Page 2 of Not My Type
“Is it the same book?” I ask and she bobs her head.
“Yes, To Kill a Mockingbird,” she steps in the class and I followher closely. The students are staring at me with wide, curious eyes.
Dem extra eeeh? Jeez
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Adams and... ” they trail off.
“Good afternoon students, I’m Ms. Williams.” I smile as anxiety eats me alive. I look over at Mrs. Adams, she seems impressed.
“Okay, so Ms. Williams is a student teacher. She’ll be leading your lesson today. I’m asking for you to be on your best behaviour! It’s her first time, so please be nice to her.”
A smile lingers on my face as she addresses the class.
“Am I clear?” she adds.
“Yes Mrs. Adams,” they retort.
“Miss, suh she a tell wi har age?” Asks a tall boy seated at the back of the class.
But a wah kind a bad pickney this?
“Excuse me!?” Mrs. Adams is furious. “Mark don’t start, have some respect, will you?”
Mark. Yuh mark him name?
“A nuff him nuff miss,” another student says from the back. He’s much taller and he looks rude too. “Okay be quiet,” Mrs. Adams walks to the back of the class and sits.
You’re on the floor now.
Jesus mi nervous.
I saunter to the white board, facing the 34—I think— students ogling me.
“Good afternoon again students, I’m Ms. Williams, I’m in my finalyear at St. Joseph’s Teachers College and I love linguistics–actually, anything associated with literature. What I—”
I’m abruptly interrupted by Mark, who insists on knowing my age. “I’m not too young,” I simply say before I revert back to my introduction.
“What I like to do before I dive in this amazing novel though, is to make fact files on each character...”
From the back of the class, Mrs. Adams nods in admiration. It does wonders in boosting my confidence. Before you know it, I’m teaching like a well-seasoned teacher. It’s unbelievable. I’ve captured their attention, even the rude ones. I’ve earned laughter from them too. A really me dis, Michelle one daughta?
Sure is! Ayye, a farrrrr mi a come from enuh.
“Yow deh teacher yah cute enuh, mi affi get har number,” Mark says and I look up in surprise. What a likkle mood killer. Mrs. Adams doesn’t hear him.
Weh dem pickney yah come from mon?My subconscious asks, clearly upset.
“Bad man know yuh place nuh,” I look over and notice a boy at the side. I hadn’t seen him at first. He’s looking like trouble, the type of student you wouldn’t want to be around. Good looking too, hazel eyes, that explains why the girl next to him can’t stop blushing. Why him bleach him skin?
Nosah, dem pickney yah too big fimme.
“Students!” Mrs. Adams shouts, eyes piercing daggers through them. “Jordane! Mark!” She’s frustrated. Who wouldn’t be though?
No mon, dem set dem fi mad wi.
NICKOI
“Nick yuh phone a ring,” Lorie says from behind the wall, followed by the clanking of the gate as she opens it. My eyes dart back to the juvies playing football in the street.
