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I thought. Thank God I had already taught that man's daughter today. I grinned as I pictured myself contemplating, during a discussion about our current novel The Outsiders , if Eva’s father was as good in bed as he looked. The thought almost caused me to laugh out loud as I scampered down the hall to beat the late bell to class and ensure that the animals didn’t claw each other to death.

Seven
    Thankfully, the rest of the day had been smooth.  I guess I had made enough of an ass of myself for one day.  My students were engrossed in The Outsiders and completed their reading assignments without complaint.  Or at least, without much complaint.  As I sat at my desk, scanning the empty desks, I smiled.  I recalled the heated discussion in third period over whether or not the Socs and Greasers were really all that different.  Fourth period willingly delved into the significance of having a gentle, forthright character like Johnny present in the book.  Sixth period uncovered the crux of the novel—that gentleness and violence often existed side by side, and that perhaps, without one, the other would also cease to be.  
    Highlights like those reminded me why I chose this profession instead of entering law school after graduating with an English degree from Penn.  Law school had been all my parents could talk about since I was able to walk.  My father was a defense attorney and my mother had been a prosecutor until she got pregnant with me and my dad convinced her that motherhood would allow her to have a far greater influence on the world than working for the Chicago D.A.'s office.  You’d think an assistant district attorney would have been able to see right through that line of bullshit.  
    I had never disappointed my parents until the day I told them that, not only would I not be returning to Illinois, but I was also accepting a teaching position at a public (for shame!) middle school 25 minutes outside of Philadelphia.  They hadn’t known that I had taken on a minor in education my sophomore year.  I had done it simply to keep my options open, but as graduation approached, I knew that all I could really envision myself doing was teaching a subject I adored to the precocious young minds of our future generations.  That last bit ended up being a hot pile of dog shit, but I still do adore the subject and I still get lost in the hope that I may make a true impact on a child’s life.
    Okay, time to end my trance of bliss and get the hell out of here.  I still had thirty minutes before I could actually leave, but I would damn sure be ready when the clock hit 3:15. Just as I was closing out all of the open programs on my computer, I heard our PA system click on and our principal’s voice bellow, “Attention staff: there will be a mandatory meeting in the auditorium immediately following this announcement.  See you there.”
    Jesus Christ!  I had already done my job for the day. Couldn’t they just leave us alone?  I was shaking my head at the injustice of it all when my friend Tina walked in.  “This had better be good,” she declared.  “I was in the middle of a very important game of solitaire.”
    We walked to the auditorium, loudly voicing our dissatisfaction with the administration.  Slave drivers are what they were!  They had no respect for our after school time, time we needed to make sure our lessons were in order.  Sure, some teachers may be using this time to sit around, shoot the shit, and play on their cell phones.  But no need for subtle hair splitting.
    Tina and I walked in and took seats in the middle of the auditorium.  We had learned the hard way that sitting in the back would only get you asked to move forward and that only ass kissers sat in the front.  I kept my eyes cast down, examining my cuticles, refusing to give the principal my focus, and therefore making it clear what my priorities were.  Surely he would notice how I refused to look at him.  I mean, there were only