In for a Treat

When Norman Aman pulled open the classroom door and stepped inside, every eye turned to look. A stream of silence bloomed into a wave as one child raised eyebrows at the other. It wasn’t that Norman looked strange. He wore his usual navy-blue pants, polished black shoes, and crisp, white collared shirt. A twinkling gold chain peeked out from behind the unbuttoned top holes. Norman enjoyed wearing jewelry, and most recently, to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, he had his ear pierced with a large diamond stud.

He glanced around as his faded blue eyes swallowed the large cluttered desk toward the back of the room and the wall of rectangular windows, opened slightly, that ushered in the occasional squeal of tires from the street below. Posters of Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, and Carl Gauss surveyed him with biased suspicion. He stared back, head-on, for he wasn’t the type to back down from a stare—even from an inanimate object. The students stared at him as he sauntered past them to the front of the classroom. He met their gazes with an easy grin.  

One thought popped into his mind, and he agreed with it. These kids are in for a treat.

Upon reaching the desk, he shoved a pile of papers and books aside and plopped down his worn black leather bag—a birthday gift from his ex-wife some fifteen years ago. He thought of her fondly, although not too often, but he had to admit that the life they once shared was a good one, filled with the chatter of children, the frenzy of pets, and even backyard barbecues. If you were to ask him what happened to this idyllic existence, he’d point only to himself, or, more specifically, to his roving eye, the reason for his divorce when his children were teenagers.

He nodded at the students, but before he could say anything, a short boy jumped from his desk and rushed forward.

“Hello, I’m Jackson Tucker.” He extended his hand. “But you can call me Jack. Welcome to Honors Algebra. Mrs. Mills said to expect you.”

If Norman was surprised by the teenage boy’s display of hospitality, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shook the boy’s hand. “Hello, Jack. Most of the greeters I meet are at Walmart, so this is a nice surprise.”

“I know,” Jack replied. “That’s where I got the idea. Life would be more pleasant if people just took the time to say ‘welcome to Walmart,’ except this isn’t Walmart. But you get what I’m saying. Right?”

“I certainly do,” Norman said. “Now, take your seat because we have a lot to cover this hour.” Looking over the room, he continued. “Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Aman, and I will be your substitute teacher today.” He paused to brush back a strand of blond hair—compliments from his stylist, Miguel—from his forehead. “We’ll be working on something new and wonderful. I know you all will love it.”   

Two girls in the first row giggled. Pushing up her glasses, a third girl scowled at them. “Mrs. Mills said we need to work on our review. She left the instructions on her desk and wrote the problems on the board.”

Norman rolled his eyes “That’s nice but hardly necessary. You kids look like a smart bunch.” He couldn’t care less about what their regular teacher had planned for him. After all, she wasn’t there. He was. The thought made him smile, and he relished showing off his newly-whitened teeth. “Before we begin, let’s straighten something out, shall we?” Pausing for effect, he took time to meet as many eyes as possible. “I’m not who you think I am, and I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

He watched as the students looked from one to another. More whispers ensued.

“I realize that I strike an uncanny resemblance to Anthony Hopkins—Sir Anthony Hopkins, no less—but I assure you, I’m not him, so please, don’t ask me for my autograph unless you want to save it for when I become famous.”

One boy, wearing a bright red Arizona Cardinals sweatshirt, gave a muffled laugh. “Who?”

“Anthony Hopkins.” Norman met the blank faces around him. “He starred in The Elephant Man, Titus, and Surviving Picasso, to name a few. Surely, you’ve all heard of him?”

When no one responded, Norman paced the room. “He won his first award in the early 1970s, and quite a few more have followed.” Sighing, he ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Oh, well. I do suggest you look him up and watch some of his work. The man’s a genius.”

“I know you said you have something new for us to do, but you should read Mrs. Mill’s notes,” Jack said. “I know she’ll be upset if you don’t follow them. And, we’re supposed to work on the problems on the board, too.”

Shrugging, Norman said, “If you insist.” He flipped through the folder marked Substitute Notes and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “What in the world? Is she serious?” Tossing the folder down, he turned around to face the board and gasped. Numbers, signs, and strange-looking symbols that looked like equations screamed mocked him.  

Norman swallowed. Hard. “Is this some kind of joke? Have I stumbled upon some strange alien language?”

“Is something wrong, Mr. Aman?” A girl asked. “Aren’t you a math teacher?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, young lady, but thank you for asking. By the way, what is your name?”

“You’d know that already if you had taken attendance,” she said. “You’re supposed to do that before class starts. Is this your first-time subbing here?”

“Of course not!” He had a momentary flash of a bad memory regarding an encounter with the principal at that very school. But it had happened during the previous school year, and in Norman’s opinion, a new year meant a clean, new slate. Besides, the principal’s parking spot was empty when he arrived, a sure sign of a good day.   

“Mr. Aman?” The girl persisted. “You’re supposed to take attendance at the beginning of every class and then turn the sheet into the office at the end of the day. Don’t you know that?”

His brows snapped together. “For your information, I’ve already taken attendance. I don’t see any empty seats, so it looks like everyone is here. By the way, you didn’t answer my question. What’s your name?”

“Why? Are you going to mark me down or something?” She gave a lopsided grin. “I’m Lauren, and whatever you put down about me, Mrs. Mills won’t believe it. I’m her favorite.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Jack said. “Mrs. Mills doesn’t have favorites.”

She ignored him, and instead, focused on examining her red-painted nails. “Are you going to get started with the review or not? We have a test tomorrow, and everything we need to review is on the board.”

The girl beside her nodded. “That’s right. We’re supposed to get through all the problems today. By the way, you do know algebra. Right?”

Norman resisted the urge to scowl. “And you are?”

The girl turned to Lauren. “Is he for real?”

Norman continued to stare at her, his mouth in a firm, hard line. The girl blushed and said, “I’m Natalie Wood. And, please don’t ask me about it.”

“It’s obvious that explanations aren’t necessary. You were named after the actress – a beautiful and talented woman. You’re quite lucky.”

Natalie’s brown face flushed. “No, I’m not. I’m named after my aunt.”

He glanced back at the board again. “Your teacher certainly likes to write things down. My therapist told me that obsessions like this could lead to psychological issues.”

Lauren looked away from her nails. “What are you talking about? Are you saying our teacher is crazy?”

Norman didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced at the clock, and said, “The bell won’t ring for another 40 minutes or so. I think it’s the perfect time to take a break.”

A tall, burly boy, who reminded Norman of a linebacker, slammed his fist on his desk. “Yeah! Finally, we get a cool sub.”

Norman beamed. “Thank you, whatever-your-name-is. Think I’ll just call you Lineman because I’m guessing you’re on the football team. Am I right?”

The boy nodded. “Hell yeah.”

Jack sat back with his arms crossed. “Mrs. Mills said yesterday that if we didn’t review today, we’d all fail the test.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Norman said. “You kids look pretty smart to me, and besides, we’ll have plenty of time after the break.” He pulled out a bulging file from his bag. “I’ve got something new for you, and trust me. You’ll love it.”  

Lauren pointed to the board. “But Mrs. Mills said to review. And if all these problems are going to be on the test, then we should get started, or we won’t finish them in time.”

Norman’s heart pounded. Wiping his sweating brow, he said, “Like I said, it’s break time. Now, wouldn’t you like to see what I brought?”

Lauren turned to Natalie and grumbled. “This guy’s clueless.”

“You may not believe it,” Norman said, “but I’m not just a substitute teacher. I’m a play writer.” He waved a folder in the air. “I’ve brought my latest masterpiece to share with you. Let’s move these desks over to the side. Now, if everyone is agreeable, I’m going to rely on my undisputed intuition to assign parts.”

The class went quiet.

Slightly perturbed by the lack of response, he pulled a small silver flask from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and took a swig. The liquid burned his mouth, but he welcomed it. What a tough crowd, he thought.

“What’re doing, Mr. Aman?” Natalie peered over her desk. “Are you drinking alcohol?”

“No, of course not.” Nosy kid.

“But …” Lauren pursed her lips. “My grandad uses the same flask when he travels. He puts alcohol in it.”

Norman smirked. “Good for Grandad. It’s herbal tea, organic, no less. Now, come on guys, these desks won’t move themselves.”

Norman drained his flask and coughed while he watched the boys shove the desks aside. Then, he grabbed the folder and opened it.

“Are you a drama teacher?” Jack asked.

Norman nodded, pleased that someone had asked. “I taught drama for twenty-five years, but mostly at the college level. Now, I’m a substitute teacher and full-time play writer.”

“So, you’re not a math teacher?” Lauren groaned. “Wait until Mrs. Mills hears about this.”

Lineman scowled. “Don’t be stupid. He said he writes plays. I’m sure you need some math skills to do that.”

Norman nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a puppet. “Has anyone seen ‘Some Water for William’ at the Hailee Theater?” He stood taller. “That was mine. Unfortunately, it only ran one week.”

No one said a word.

“Well,” Norman said, nonplussed by their lack of enthusiasm, “How about Jump the Line? That one played at the Fountain Theatre. It was a huge success.” He caught a few eyes of his students. “No? Frankly, I’m surprised. It’s a shame your parents don’t introduce you all to the arts, but that’s okay. I promise you’ll love this one. It’s got a little of everything—love, hate, revenge, and redemption.”

“Didn’t Fountain Theatre close? Like, a million years ago?” Jack asked.

Lauren tightened her ponytail holder. “This isn’t a drama class, Mr. Aman. No one is interested.”

Murmurs of agreement flooded the room.

“Look!” Norman pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow. “Just humor me for a bit. Okay? Then we’ll look at the problems. I promise.”

His words tumbled from his mouth and smashed into the floor. No one caught them. Norman didn’t know what to think. Usually, kids loved getting out of school work, but maybe these kids were different. Or weird. He mopped his brow again and shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. Hands now shaking, he grabbed a cigarette and lighter from his shirt pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he lit it and took a quick drag. He inhaled and savored the calm sensation. His mouth curved into a smile.

“Maybe you guys will get more excited when I assign parts. You, Lauren, get to be Elena. She’s an obnoxious know-it-all, and I think you’ve already nailed the part. Jack? You’ll be…”

“Excuse me?” Lauren scrambled from her seat. “You should be teaching us math, not drinking alcohol and smoking, which are both against school rules. I’m getting the principal.”

Norman remembered seeing the principal’s parking spot earlier—it was empty—still, his chest tightened at an unwelcome thought: What if she’s here now?

“No, wait!” Norman almost jammed his cigarette back into his pocket but remembered that it was lit, so he stubbed it out on the desk before shoving it back into his pocket. “I know her. She’s one mean broad. If she comes in here, I’m toast. They’ll ban me from subbing forever, and I need the money.” He waved the smoke from the air. “As for the cigarette, I wasn’t thinking. Please, just humor me for a few minutes, and then we’ll look at the problems on the board. Okay?”

“Sit down, Lauren,” Jack said. “Give the guy a chance. You don’t him to have a breakdown, do you?”

Linebacker echoed him, adding, “Yeah, what’s wrong with you? He’s legit.”

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m not participating.”

Norman exhaled in relief and then passed out the role sheets. He paced around the room and gestured wildly as the students fumbled over their lines, mispronounced words, and spoke in deadpan voices. His fingers twitched; he ached to hold his cigarette, but he fought the impulse and chewed on his fingernails instead.

Norman could no longer restrain himself. “You’re butchering my play! My God, you kids have no talent. What the hell was I thinking? We should’ve just worked on monologues instead.”

“We’re not actors, Mr. Aman,” Linebacker said.  

“Well, I am,” Jack said. “I’m in the drama club, and I’m also the lead in the spring play.”

“To be honest, Jacko, I don’t know who your drama teacher is, but you could certainly use some work.” Norman’s hands trembled as he pulled out his cigarette and lighter again. “See me after class, and I’ll give you my card. I offer coaching on the side.”

Jack stuck out his lower lip and turned away.  

Norman watched him and shook his head. These kids are a lost cause, he thought, but maybe the next class will be better. He struggled to light his cigarette. “Okay, everyone, get your desks moved back. The break, unfortunately, is over.”

He watched them scramble to move everything back while he sat on the edge of his desk and blew smoke rings into the air.  

“You’re not supposed to be doing that,” Jack reminded him.

“Be careful of the words supposed to, kid. They can ruin your life.” Norman flicked the ashes onto the floor.  

Natalie opened her notebook. “How do we do number four? I got sixty-two as an answer, but I don’t think it’s right.”

Norman yawned. “Haven’t a clue.” His eyes narrowed. “By the way, where’s that know-it-all Lauren?”

“But …” Natalie’s mouth dropped. “You said we’d do the problems after the break.”

Norman stretched and took another drag of his cigarette. “No, I believe I said that we’d look at them. I never said we’d actually do them.” He walked over to look out the window. “There’s a difference between the two, you know.” As he stared out the window, he heard the door open.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lindenwold!”

Norman squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Talk about bad luck.

“Mr. Aman, the principal’s here,” Lineman called out. “She doesn’t look happy.”

Norman slowly turned around. He thrust his cigarette behind his back and forced a smile. “Good morning. Can I help you with something?”

The woman sniffed the air and frowned. “Are you smoking in here?”

He dropped his cigarette on the floor and crushed it out with his shoe. “No, not at all.”   

Lauren stood beside the principal. “He’s lying, Mrs. Lindenwold. That’s why I got you. He’s been drinking, too. He has a flask.”

Norman began to stutter. “Look, you little brat. I told you it’s herbal tea.” He gulped and met the principal’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but it’s been an extremely long morning.”

The principal scowled. “You’ve been here less than an hour.” She grabbed Norman’s arm, dragged him out the door and into the hallway. “I thought I made it clear you were not to come back here. Ever! Now, get the hell out of here before I call security!"

As Norman’s faded blue eyes locked with the principal’s bright blue ones, he had only one thought: my daughter is too much like her mother. She’s one mean broad.