I have always been one to try and get the most out of school. I recently turned 18 and am currently studying for my A levels which I take at the end of May. However, no matter how much anyone likes school, there is always one day which contains certain lessons or a certain teacher which no-one can find bearable. For me that day was Wednesday. Wednesdays were absolute nightmares. Admittedly I finish early on Wednesdays, but the lessons I have before become one hard slog. I have no free periods, and the only respite is the twenty minute break I get halfway between the four hour string of lessons I had to face. Lessons one and four have to be the most unbearable. The lesson itself is fine, but the teacher makes it so boring and repetitive, that I cannot concentrate properly. The fact that it's the first lesson of the day usually means that I'm half asleep when I get there anyway. There is nothing that can wake me up.
Today was a normal Wednesday, I had arrived at school, and was thinking about how boring my lesson would be. I am always hoping that the teacher is absent. In the sixth form, no teacher means no lesson. I amble slowly toward the classroom, pushing my way through all the little year eight kids who always cram the corridors. I get to the classroom and walk in. No sign of a teacher. I start hoping. Better yet, no sign of a teacher's bag. This could be what I'd hoped for. The rest of my classmates begin to join me in the room.
"Looks like he ain't here" I tell them. We search the teacher's desk for any signs of work he may have set for us to do anyway. No signs of that either. As we turn round, intending to leave and head for the common room, a woman enters the room. She seems vaguely familiar, but I cannot decide where I've seen her before. I, probably along with the rest of my classmates, wonder who she is and what she's doing here.
"Your teacher has been forced to travel to Newcastle for two weeks," she begins to explain, "his mother has been taken ill. Due the length of his absence, the school has asked me to teach all his classes including the sixth form, so can you all sit down." We sit down and she takes a seat at the teacher's desk. She puts her bag down and takes a diary out, probably her notes for the days work.
"Great," I think "this could have been a lot of extra free periods, instead we get a substitute teacher." The new teacher begins to speak.
"Let me introduce myself, my name is Miss Gehring." She pauses and starts to scan the class. I wonder why. The I think about her name.
"Gehring, Gehring. Sounds familiar." Then it hits me where I've seen her before. Amy Gehring. She was accused of seducing boys at schools she's worked in before. Back then her face was plastered over the newspapers. She was found not guilty in the end, but became an instant celebrity. Now I know why she paused. I scan the class with her, but see no-one seems to recognise her.
"I see the current focus is population," she continues, "just fill me in on where you are and I'll take over from where your teacher left you." The lesson continues as normal, though on a few occasions I swear I saw her glance at me for long periods and maybe even wink. I remember how much I wished I had been one of her supposed victims when she was in the news.
The lesson ended, I left without incident. I knew I would be seeing her again for lesson four in just over two hours. As I headed to my next lesson, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
I could not concentrate in my next lessons. My mind kept focusing on Miss Gehring. On some occasions I could feel myself getting hard. Fortunately tables were hiding my excitement.
Lesson four finally came and it was time to see Miss Gehring again. Again I was first to arrive. She was already there. She winked a me and welcomed me in her English-Canadian accent. I said hello and took my seat. The rest of the class arrived and lesson took the same pattern as the first.
At the end, I was the last to leave. I could go home now. Miss Gehring began talking to me.
