Magic in Costa Rica

Paisley

I arrived five minutes late for my first class, which was the advanced English course my ninth grade teacher had pushed for me to take. I opened the door cautiously and walked towards an empty desk with my head down.

"You're late," a voice said from the front of the classroom. The tips of my ears burned red with embarrassment as I turned to see the teacher sitting with his arms folded at his desk. He was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with wire-rimmed glasses and an overly-serious expression. His face was clean-shaven, although his dirty blonde hair looked as messy as if he had woken up five minutes earlier. He wore a light blue button-down shirt and a red paisley tie, which I thought was a bold fashion choice for the first day of school. I looked down at the nametag on his desk: Mr. Miller.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. It won't happen again. Also, I like your tie." The class snickered and Mr. Miller narrowed his eyes.

"What's your name?" he leaned forward in his chair.

"Alma Larson?" I said. My voice tilted upwards, making my response sounds more like a question than an answer.

"Ah, yes, the sophomore. Well, Alma Larson, you should know that neither tardiness nor sass regarding my clothing will be tolerated in this classroom. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now sit there," he pointed to a desk in the front row. I nodded and sat down, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the class, although I felt their eyes practically burning holes into the back of my head. Great, the only class I really cared about and I came late on the first day and sassed the teacher. Mr. Miller got up from his desk and walked towards the front of the room. "Now that everyone's here, let's get started. I'm Mr. Miller, your teacher. This is my first year teaching, but that does not mean that this class will be easy. In fact, I expect it to be very challenging for most of you. But if you're willing to put in the effort, I will help you and guide you the best that I can. Sound good?" A few students nodded enthusiastically, while the rest bobbed their heads in unison. "Good!" Mr. Miller said. "Now, who here has read To Kill A Mockingbird?" About five students raised their hands, myself excluded. "Those of you who have, congratulations, you get to read it again! And to those of you who haven't, congratulations, you are about to be introduced to one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written," he started handing out copies to each student. "I want this read by Friday. Now, let's go over the syllabus."

I spent the rest of class trying to pay attention to boring syllabus information, but found myself drifting off, staring mindlessly through the window more than once. When the bell rang, everyone began collecting their things, and I walked towards the door.

"Miss Larson," Mr. Miller stopped me, "Hang back for a bit?" I waited until all the other students began filing out. Mr. Miller looked at me with an inscrutable expression as I stood awkwardly, desperately wanting to leave.

"Mr. Miller, I know I was late, but I really am a good student and I promise it won't happen agai-"

"I wanted to apologize," Mr. Miller interrupted me with a sigh. "I know I was a little harsh on you today, it's just that it's my first day teaching and I didn't want everyone to think that I'm a pushover. I'm sorry I made an example out of you."

"That's alright," I breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't blame you. I was late on the first day after all."

"Yes, well, we don't want you to be late for your second class either, so you can go," he smiled politely and gestured towards the door, "Oh, and don't forget your book."

"Looking forward to reading it," I said as I slid To Kill A Mockingbird into my bookbag and started towards the door. "By the way," I looked over my shoulder, "It wasn't sass. I really do like your tie," I called as I turned down the hallway.