The Perfect Teacher

I didn’t mean to turn the kitchen upside down — I just wanted toast and maybe a little adrenaline. You would think toast on a Monday morning is nothing out of the ordinary but paired with “Cozy Cafe Piano Jazz playlist”, it was everything I needed to start a party.

I was starting my first day as a Pre school teacher in Little Town Rainbow Kindergarten and to say I was excited was an understatement.This wasn’t my first job as a preschool teacher. This wasn’t even my first job in this city. Then why this feeling you might ask?

Little Town Rainbow kindergarten stood as a symbol of joy in an otherwise dreary town. Four pm was when the little kids came trotting home happily with their bag packs that looked two sizes too big for them. On my way to the bus stop every morning, I saw the parents dropping off their children, whose faces, if sad for being separated from them, showed no such sign.

I now had fifteen minutes to get myself ready for everything I had been anticipating over the past several weeks. Black or brown pants? Brown, absolutely, I thought to myself. When unsure, always go for brown. A little bit of blush and there, I was ready. Grabbing my watch from the stand, my eyes fell on the photo of a group of five teachers standing in front of Little Town Rainbow kindergarten, on my dressing table. It's funny how we’re all smiling, unaware of the tragedy that was going to take place a week later. On the day before Christmas break, a fire broke out in one of the classrooms. All of a sudden, the place which was once a delight to the students now became a reminder of a tragedy which claimed two lives. Anyway, there was no time to be mopey now. Little Town needed a new homeroom teacher. I glanced at the clock one last time, grabbed my backpack, and whispered, "Okay. Let’s do this."

The walls of the school, though a dull brown, still had a warm feeling that would draw one in. However mundane it had looked on the outside, the colorful hallways made up for it. Potted plants lined the corridors. I thought I even spotted some orchids near the entrance. The classrooms were no less. Each classroom sprang alive with drawings and posters made by the students.The children sat in groups of five on small wooden chairs, which were arranged in the center of the classroom. In the table in front of me, were eight sticker sheets, six coloring books, and a dozen pairs of hand puppets. Maybe it was a lot but I wanted to be prepared. It was twelve pm, and not one child had shown any sign of reaching for them. I sighed, knowing that toys were no medicine for what the children witnessed. Still, I hoped for a change in the upcoming days.

Earlier, in the teacher’s lounge, Mrs Sheila had remarked, with a far-away look etched on her face, “The children have been through a lot.”

I felt it now. With every glance, every conversation I had with the teachers, the weight of the incident pressed down on me. I thought I smelt burnt ash, or that was just my mind playing tricks- reminding me of the horrific ordeal every child before me had seen.

“So, Ms Lara”, I think it was Mrs Sherry?, who asked, ”you used to work in Mulberry’s before?”

“Yes, for five years.” I smiled.

“Then I hope you won’t find Little Town too hard to get used to.” she said.

“We’re truly lucky to have you.” Another teacher, whose name I couldn’t remember, spoke. “I was going to quit last month due to the salary cuts. But now since you are with us, I truly believe the children will be happy to come to school everyday.”

Ever since I had joined Little Town, stories from Mulberry’s, the previous school I was working at, spread like wildfire among the teachers, or so I thought, judging from the way they were looking at me. Hope was clearly marked across all their faces with something unrecognisable lingering on it.

“I will give my best.” I said, forcing a smile. The bell rang and I waited for a few seconds. Gathering my books, I headed towards the classroom while reminding myself that it was only the bell.

***

“Good morning students.” I said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Good morning Ms Lara”, the children mumbled as they got up. The sound of scraping chairs felt louder that morning. Standing before me, some of them looked distracted, and some were staring at the window. Some had their gazes fixed on the floor.

No, I’ve got this, I told myself.

“Did you all have a good time coloring the farm animals yesterday?” I tried again, forcing a smile. Back came, a feeble “Yes ma’am.”

“Today we’re going to learn the names of those animals.” I said, as I looked back to make sure the door was shut.

Yes, it was.

I handed out worksheets I had printed out earlier this morning. I went around, handing them a pencil each. Today’s task was simple: Read the names of the different animals in the textbook and write the same in the worksheet. Halfway through the worksheet, I noticed Charlie looking distracted and not writing anything.

Should I ask him what’s wrong? I thought.

I should. A good teacher would do that. The other teachers would do that.

I got up from my seat, and without realising, knocked down my steel water bottle at the far end of the table. It crashed to the floor, a loud clang spreading through the room. The room became silent and the air felt suddenly tight.

First came Charlie’s sobs. He had his arms clutched around his bag-pack as though it would shield him from the memories I just dragged back.

What had I done?

How did I forget to keep my bottle in my bag-pack?

That's where my bottle goes–always. Anna, a little girl who came the first to class each day, had her little fingers pressed into her ears. Her eyes were trying to force themselves shut.

This was all my fault.

Not even a week here and I had already reminded them of the fire. “I’m sorry, it's just Ms Lara’s silly water bottle and nothing else.” I said, trying to keep my voice stable. “I’ll keep it inside my bag so that it doesn’t disturb us. Everything is fine. Let’s go back to the worksheet”

Yes, the lesson would keep them distracted.

Crouching next to Charlie, I said, “Everything is okay. My bottle wanted to stretch its legs. That’s all.” My voice came out too thick, too high.

After the sobs had faded, I started again. No messing up this time, I reminded myself.

“Now Charlie here has done a very good job, as I can see.” I said. I held up his paper which had the names of only two animals:

A cow. A chicken.

“Charlie, can you tell me what the cow gives us?”

Charlie looked up at me with tear stained eyes, still clutching on to his bag-pack.

I tried again, this time, reducing my decibel so that only Charlie could hear me. “Charlie,what does a cow give us?”

But he sat, staring at me, stiff-lipped.

“Cows give us milk,” I said. Maybe a question would help? “Do you like cornflakes with milk Charlie?” At this, he gave the slightest nod and that was everything I needed to know he was okay. “And does Charlie like a bowl of cornflakes with fresh milk?” Another nod, certain than the last.

It was true.

The lesson always keeps us distracted.

Later that night, as I sat finishing up the work for the day, the pile of worksheets lay untouched on the table. On top, was Charlie's crumpled paper,unfinished.

A cow. A chicken.

Those two words stared back, almost mocking me. It was my mistake that his worksheet was incomplete. That Charlie sat without doing anything in that period and probably for the rest of the day. If I didn’t correct my mistake soon, I would be the reason Charlie would perform badly in the exams. No, I was thinking too much. Charlie would probably forget all about this tomorrow. All the kids would enjoy my coloring activity which I had prepared for them.

I’ve got this, I reminded myself.

I’ve still got this.

***

Twenty three notebooks to get through. Two and a quarter minutes for each book would allow me to reach the bus stand by 3:43 pm. Four minutes for the bus and-

“Ms Lara” I was cut off from my thoughts by a voice to my right. It was Ms Shelly. She and the other teachers had a questioning look on their faces.

“I-”, I began. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Could I borrow your charger?” she asked. “I think I might have left mine in the classroom.”

“Yes of course.” I smiled weakly, handing her the charger from my bag.

“By the way, Ms Lara, did you familiarise yourself with the emergency drill today?” Mrs Evans asked.

“Yes of course.” I began, “In case of emergencies, do not panic and wait till the emergency lock is open-”

“I wasn’t testing you,” she laughed. “Well, it's good to know that the children are in good hands, in case of any emergency.” She added, “touch wood” and a round of giggles went around.

“Ms Evans, I had a question.”

“Yes?”

“How did the fire start?”

At this, her face darkened. The teachers exchanged glances, trying to busy themselves with the corrections. And just like that, with my stupid question, I had spoiled the mood.

Great.

“Well” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Nobody knows for sure but we all suspect it was because of a short circuit. It is said that a teacher accidentally left the projector, phone charger and the table fan all switched on in the same power strip. And that’s how the fire started.” She paused, “The fire got so bad, that it spread to the hallway on the third floor.”

“It could all have been avoided if she had been careful.” Mrs Perez remarked. It was the first time I’d seen her speak about the incident. Something in her voice told me she wasn’t really talking to me. Two children lost their lives over what- a careless error.

Sheer negligence.

“Everyday we hope that the children will never have to see a day like this, again.”

But I wasn’t really paying attention to Mrs. Perez anymore. My eyes darted to the door-it was locked.

Always make sure the door is locked.

I had promised myself a movie night as a reward. Today marked one month of me working as a teacher in Little Town. I browsed the movie options, reminding myself I deserved this. Comedy? Maybe that would be good. Ten minutes into the movie, I wondered if I had switched the kitchen lights off. It wouldn't hurt to go check.Yes, they were off.

I clicked on resume and opened a pack of popcorn. Some popcorn was allowed, right?

After about ten minutes or so, I got another thought-Did i switch off the stove? I sprang up from my seat, not stopping to pause the movie.

Off.

As I was coming back to my seat, the bathroom lights caught my eye. They were off and the door was shut tight. Go check if they’re really off, a voice spoke in my mind. I clicked the switch on then off. No, that doesn’t feel right. Do it again.

Click-Clack, I switched it on and off once more. What if the switch is broken, I should open the door and check. But the door pushed open, revealing the dark bathroom. “Don’t be silly, the light is switched off” I told myself and made my way back to the sofa. At the interval, I decided to make my dinner. Today it was cup ramen. Surely I deserved a break from cooking. Didn’t I?

Stop, I told myself.

I switched on the electric water heater and began cleaning my counter.

You should switch off the fan. The laptop is switched on too. You’re drawing too much power.

Maybe I should switch off the fan. But it was thirty degrees- No,The last thing I needed was a fire. After about five minutes, my noodles were ready. Maybe I should disconnect my laptop too. The charge was about sixty five percent which would be enough to last the remaining part of the movie. I resumed the movie and took the first bite-the bathroom switch. Had I switched them off after I had got up to use the bathroom just now?

Go check, a voice in my head said.

Click-clack. Yes, on and off.

I turned around when a voice in my head said, a little stronger, “Are you sure they’re off?”

What if your fingers are playing tricks on you, switch it on and off again.

Click-clack. No that didn’t feel right, let me just do it again.

Click-clack

By the seventh time, the voice screamed in my head, “again”. The movie played on in the background like someone else’s life. By the time the credits should’ve rolled, I was curled under my blanket, sweat coating my skin. But sleep did not come. Even when the door was locked and the laptop was not plugged in. I whispered to myself in the dark, “I can’t sleep.”

***

The science experiment. I woke up with these three words ringing in my head, in a pool of sweat and a throbbing head ache. I might have slept around three in the morning.

It was five am now. No time to rest. Today was the day of the science experiment demonstration. For the past week, everyday after school, I spent my time searching, buying and preparing the ingredients for this class. The students of Little Town are shown the demonstration of this experiment every year. And since I was the home room teacher this time, I had to conduct this experiment. And make sure it went smoothly. And make sure there was no harm to the children.

The children were gathered around the table. Did I finish calling out the attendance today? I couldn’t seem to remember. I had everything I needed on the table in front of me. The candle, the bottle of vinegar, the baking soda and the stack of worksheets. I began explaining each step in detail but my voice shook and so did my hands. Everything came down to this. If I was worthy of being called a teacher or not. Lumps of baking soda spilt onto the table while the children stood whispering, as if expecting something marvelous to happen.

The last step, light the candle and close the jar.

If the bottle tilts, the mixture is going to spill and hurt the children.

“No”, nothing like that was going to happen I told myself.

Did you switch off the gas stove? A voice in my mind asked. I definitely did. Before I grabbed my bag, I went to the kitchen and-

Had I?

Yes, stop thinking so much.

I told myself to breathe, focus as the match in my hand felt heavier by the second. Had I switched off the projector? It wouldn't hurt to check, right?

No, I should focus here.

If I don’t check now, there might be a short circuit. It might lead to a fire. This is common sense. Any teacher would check.

My eyes burnt either because of the flame or lack of sleep-I didn’t know. I lowered the lit match to the wick and waited.

Forcing a breath, I said, “Now watch carefully.” The flame grew into an ochre orb, smoke dancing above in weird shapes. But I didn’t pay attention to it. The stack of worksheets were on my right, too close to the candle. I should move it, I thought. But how can I leave the flame unattended?

Any child might put their finger and burn it. And it will all be your fault.

No, I should continue the experiment. I was fine.

With my left hand, I reached for the glass jar and kept it down.The flame quickly got bigger, as if angered by the lack of oxygen. I thought I heard a spark, no you’re imagining it, I told myself. Beyond the glass, I could see the children’s blurred faces looking back, in excitement-or fear, I couldn’t tell. The smoke grew in large grey puffs.

No, this couldn’t be right.

I had done everything right, hadn’t I?

The children were surely enjoying themselves.

Now the only thing left to do was ensure the door was locked.

The last step, before everything was complete. Then I would be the perfect teacher.

I walked to the door. Such a beautiful flame, I thought. How effortlessly captivating and perfect.

Make sure the door is locked.

“Miss?” A child screamed.

I turned around and locked the door, as I saw a stack of papers burning on the table through the classroom window.

Click-Clack.

The door was locked.