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misbehaving in class. Nothing big, just bad
attitude, being rude to teachers, getting in fights, ditching
classes, that kind of thing.
    “This summer, I read
an article about a teacher in Australia who became a mentor to
children just like ours, and, through performing arts, managed to
help them work through their problems. After talking to you and
Maureen, I have been convinced of you being able to do this. What do
you think?” She sat back in her leather swivel office chair and
awaited my response.
    “It sounds amazing!”
I answered back excitedly. “I’d love to see if I could get
through to them. Oooh, I’m already getting ideas of how to help.
One question though, do I find out why they may be acting up, for
example their family situations?” I asked.
    Shaking her head, Mrs.
Thomas explained. “That’s the kicker. You go in blind. There are
laws, etc., on why, but also some information can’t be shared as
per request of the families. They fully support the initiative, but
for their own reasons ask that you don’t ask questions or delve
into the girls’ backgrounds. With one girl in particular, a Miss.
Jones – this is her first year here, she has just transferred from
another school in the local area in which she only lasted one year
due to personal issues – discretion is imperative,” she informed
me, stressing the point.
    “Okay, intriguing,
but I respect the need for privacy. It’s a prestigious school, I’m
sure that means some of the students come from powerful and
prestigious parents. I’m kind of on the right lines, huh?” I
cheekily probed, knowing by her small smirk that I was close to the
mark.
    “You could say that,”
she hesitantly agreed.
    “And a badly-behaved
child would not be good for such a parent’s social reputation?” I
continued, fishing for more details.
    “You’re good,
Natasha, but not as on the mark as you think. Some of the secrecy is
for the child’s sake too, just keep that in mind,” she said
pointedly, staring at me over her Chanel glasses.
    “Right,” I said,
chastised. “Well, I’m in. When do I meet my little delinquents?”
    “Tomorrow. You will
have four afternoons a week with them. We are going tough on these
girls. Like, Private Benjamin -tough. Intense and quick, to get
them back into mainstream classes,” she winked.
    “Well in that case,
I’d better get organised,” I said, rising from my seat. “Thanks
for this, Mrs. Thomas. I’m excited about the challenge, and I’m
flattered that you think I’m good enough to take it on.”
    Getting out of her
seat, putting a hand around my shoulders and walking me to the door,
she added, “Natasha, call me Mandy. I think you and I will get on
great, and if you tame these wild ones and get the superintendent off
my back, then I’ll be extremely grateful.”
    Walking back to her
desk, she added, “I see a big future for you here, Ms. Munro.”
    With a bounce in my step, I rushed
back to the classroom, grabbed the key to the dance studio, and began
to prep for my biggest challenge in teaching to date.
    Arriving home that
night, I was greeted by the wondrous smell of homemade lasagne and a
pizza Margherita brought back by Tink from the restaurant.
    “Hey, Pinky, how was
your day? Do you like the school?” Tink asked while plating up the
yummy grub and pouring out two glasses of prosecco.
    “Tink, I love it! The
facilities are out of this world, and the staff are really nice. It’s
a dream come true. Plus, I kind of got put on a special project
today,” I confided.
    “Really? On your
first day? You casting-couching your way to the top or what?” he
laughed.
    “Not quite. But it is
exciting.”
    Tink placed our dinner
on the table and gestured for me to sit. Raising his glass he
announced, “ Buon appetito ”, and began tucking in.
    “So, don’t keep me
in suspense, what’s the project?” he asked.
    “Well, it’s working
with the bad kids really. Well, as bad as