Andi and the Unruly Class

All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

*****

MONDAY (

first session after morning break)

I knew that he was going to be there, and I dreaded going in.

At

22

I had finally made it. I was a teacher; a Newly Qualified Teacher maybe, with a year to prove myself, but I was a teacher. It was still my first year in my first school out of training, but I had a proper teaching job. And so far it was going quite well. Apart from Him.

I'd wanted a fresh start, something away from home and University and where I'd trained, and so had taken this post in a city up north. I'd made so many mistakes and experimented in each of those places to such an extent that a new start was both wise and desirable. The Headmaster was nice and professional, and seemed to know everything about kids and teaching in general. Which was just as well, because I was finding the older teenagers a bit difficult to handle.

The trouble with English is so many people think its easy to teach. Just because they can read. But trying to convey deeper truths and unravel the soul can be hard work, especially with unresponsive teenagers. Listen to me! I'm hardly older myself!

It wasn't that Dave Jordan did anything wrong, exactly. Or even the whole class. It was just a feeling like I wasn't in control. That when I gave instructions they were followed to humour me for now, with no promise of continued cooperation. Quite a few times I'd noticed other boys and girls in the class glance across to Dave to see if it was ok to do as I'd said, and every so often they quietly ignored me. I had found it easiest to pretend I hadn't noticed.

I wasn't sure why they kept referring to him. Ok, he had a certain confidence and assurance that was unusual for an 18 year old. Yes, he was good looking with shortish fair hair, strong chin, broad shoulders with athletic chunky arms and legs. He was a school rugby player, after all. But it didn't seem to be his looks, so maybe it was his quietly assertive manner?

Whatever it was, everyone seemed to know who was in charge. And it wasn't me.

And now it was time to start the lesson.

I knew this lesson was going to be difficult. As a school we were being Inspected next week. Everyone knew it, and had known for a little while, but suddenly it was upon us. Almost. And I needed this class to let me look good. And that was the problem; it really was up to them.

It was the first session after morning break, and steeling my nerve I pushed open my classroom door. They would be here any moment.

Since I'd been dreading this session of all my classes that day, I'd prepared meticulously and the room was ready. Date up. Texts ready. Notes printed. It wasn't the lesson content I was worried about.

Opening the store cupboard I quickly examined myself in the mirror on the inside of its door. Dark hair brushed neatly and in a ponytail. Charcoal suit short jacket buttoned and matching knee length skirt straight on my slim frame. Cream fitted blouse tidy with the button line vertical and fastened to the throat, chest not too obvious. Tights presentable, with no snags and flat black shoes clean. The gold studs, one in each ear lobe, looked nice and my makeup was discreet. Ok.

And then they were streaming in.

They all took their seats as usual, a mixture of boys and girls in sensible clothes, mostly t-shirts and jeans. Some were sporty like Dave, some musical, some academic, some more practical, but they were all bright and thanks to the highly active Sports curriculum all were physically toned and lean. Since this was a senior class there were only seven of them, three girls and four boys.

I decided to just bite the bullet and confront my worries.

"Good morning, everyone. Now, I've prepared some material in advance for next week, so that when the Inspectors are here, we all look good and get a positive assessment."

Drawing breath, I looked out over the sea of faces, well perhaps more a pond, and didn't yet detect any hint of them being on my side.

"So I'll give out the notes for you all to look at and then we'll go through them, ok?"

I shouldn't have made it sound like a request! Damn!

Already a little flustered I picked up the photocopied sheets and started round the classroom, placing one set carefully on each desk in front of the pupil.

"Miss Kay? Did you say that you wanted us all to look good?"

Oh damn. It would be Him.

"Yes, Dave, that's right, next week during Inspection."

"Wouldn't it be best if we started looking good this week?" he asked, quite reasonably I thought.

"Well yes, of course."

"I think we might be able to manage that .. Can't we class?" Dave looked round the room from his seat at the back, and every student turned to meet his eye, before turning back to look at me.

I smiled at them, proud of them all for getting behind me so quickly, far more than I had expected.

"Yes, I think we might be able to manage that," he continued, " .. Perhaps a slightly shorter skirt tomorrow might help make the class feel less intimidated, make us feel safer in expressing ourselves?"

"David!" I replied, a little shocked. Then I became embarrassed and changed what I was going to say. "Are you suggesting I make you feel intimidated? That you don't already feel safe enough to express yourselves?"

"Well, Miss Kay, IF you want US all to start looking good from tomorrow ..?" and he left the rest unsaid.

I was more than a little conflicted. Was he really suggesting that if I wore a shorter skirt tomorrow they'd all behave well? Was he also implying that if I didn't wear a shorter skirt, they wouldn't behave?

"Please read through the notes I've just given you," I announced to give myself time to think. I retreated behind my teaching desk at the front of the class, defensively making it a barrier between me and them.

When I realised how that looked I came back out from behind my ramparts and deliberately walked among the desks, showing them that I was in charge, that I wasn't in my turn intimidated by them.

As I came to Dave's desk, he handed me a small folded piece of paper. Curious, I took it and went back to sit at my desk to read it.

Opening it up I saw,

"Mid-thigh skirt. Hold-up stockings."

Looking up immediately to Dave he met my eye, and tilted his head slightly raising an eyebrow. Then he looked around the room at the backs of all the other students' heads, and then back at me.

Clearly he was asking me if I accepted the deal, and implying possible consequences if I didn't.

A shorter skirt was still well within the staff Dress Code. And stockings? No-one would ever know if I did or not, and the Dress Code wasn't that intrusive.

The question was, could I get a good assessment next week without Dave's help? There was always a chance that our lessons wouldn't be Inspected, that they'd choose others of my classes. But this was where I was vulnerable, and did I want to take the risk?

It didn't seem much of an ask, so looking Dave in the eye I nodded ever so slightly. In reply he mouthed, "Good girl." I blushed, and trying to hide my face I lowered my head.

The rest of the lesson went by in pretty much a blur. Regaining my composure I kept to the lesson plan from that point on, and soon it was the end of the session and they were gone. Without further incident.

The next class was in almost immediately and I didn't have time to think about what had transpired until the end of the day and my drive home.

I fretted all evening about whether I really would go through with it, picking out the skirt, and the stockings but having my more usual choices ready as well. I didn't sleep well that night.

TUESDAY

(Last session)

The next day I was up and dressed early, and made it to school in record time. The traffic was lighter than usual, and all the lights seemed in my favour. I went through my usual routine, got through the school Assembly and morning lessons, and didn't feel at all hungry at lunch. I was dreading the last session of the day, with That Class.

Eventually it came round. It had been a horrible day. In my nervousness I'd been a bit harsh with some of my younger groups, and they'd become fractious picking up my own uncertainty. I'd had to punish a few pupils yet I knew that the problem was not with them. Until I sorted things out with Dave's class, the rest of my teaching was going to suffer, which meant it didn't matter which classes of mine were Inspected next week, I was going to bomb.

And here they were, filing in, smiling when they saw me. I wondered if it was the smile of sharks before they feasted.

Calling the class to order I asked them to get out the sheets from yesterday, which they did.

"That's a nice skirt, Miss Kay," said Dave from his usual place at the back. The rest of them grinned at his remark. "Is it new?" he asked, "I don't remember seeing you in such a short skirt before?"

"No, Dave, its not new. Now, in the material on page one, does anyone have any questions?"

"Um, I do?" said a pretty curvy blond girl in the front row.

"Yes, Sandra?"

"Um, it talks about a 'Quid pro quo'? What exactly is that?"

"It basically means a fair exchange, 'this for that' though not literally in the original latin."

"And the suggestion is that this is a good thing?" she continued.

"Yes, generally its what makes the world go round. It's the basis of commerce, bartering, money, business, human interaction," I replied

"A bit like here then?" added Dave from the back. "You're looking good for us this week, and we're gonna look good for you next week. Our very own quid pro quo. You did wear the shorter skirt for US, didn't you?" he asked, "And you DO look good in it."

There were a few chuckles and smiles, but they were basically quiet, curious to follow this exchange.

Well how was I to answer that? If I said 'yes', I was admitting to dressing for their satisfaction in return for their cooperation. If I said 'no', I was saying I was doing nothing for them, so how could I expect anything from them?

"So anyway," I continued but was interrupted by Dave again.

"Did you, Miss Kay? Did you wear it for us?" he insisted. Just a glance at the rest of the class was enough to know that they weren't going to move on until I had answered Dave's question.

"Very well, yes Dave, this is an example of a quid pro quo, a fair exchange in which neither party is diminished. Do you see, Sandra?" I replied, trying to make it seem normal and incorporate it into the lesson.

"Let me get this, Miss Kay," he continued, "you wore a shorter skirt today for us so that we would make you look good next week for the inspectors?"

"Its not quite as simple as you're making out, Dave .."

"Oh but it is, Miss Kay. Either 'this is an example of a quid pro quo, a fair exchange,' or you were misleading Sandra, in which case we can't trust what you're telling us, so we'll be very confused all next week. So we need to understand, Miss Kay. Did you wear a shorter skirt today in exchange for us making you look good next week for the inspectors? Either Yes or No."

I had lost what appearance of control I'd had. I didn't know how to answer. I couldn't tell Dave off, or punish him, he'd done nothing wrong, really. I could leave the room, but that would be a disaster for my career. I'd never regain any respect. But the class wouldn't allow me to avoid the question.

"Yes," I answered, chin up, defiantly, trying to make the best of it.

"So you wore a shorter skirt and showed off your great legs showing us how good you look, so we'd look good for you next week?" he persisted.

Throwing away what caution remained, I again answered confidently, "Yes Dave."

"Could you just repeat my statement again, so we all get the idea of a quid pro quo?"

Tutting and huffing, I repeated, "In a quid pro quo I wore a shorter skirt and showed off my legs looking good for you so that you'd look good for me when the Inspectors are here. Ok? I think we have the concept, now!" I tried to persuade myself that the feeling in my tummy was from being cross with Dave.

"Good girl," Dave replied softly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. Again I felt a blush rising and turned back to my desk to hide it. That feeling in my tummy intensified. Getting a grip on myself I turned to face them, and they let me continue with the lesson without interruption. Near the end as I was wrapping things up dealing with their questions, Dave asked,

"Those instructions on yesterday's note. I can see you did the first one ... what about the second?"

I felt chilled. No-one was supposed to ever know either about the note or whether indeed I had obeyed both parts.

Looking at Dave I silently pleaded with him to stop. The other class members were confused but alert. Clearly he hadn't confided in any of them.

"Yes or no?" he asked casually, but again the rest of them weren't going anywhere until this little episode was done.

What harm could there be in a simple yes or no?

"Yes, Dave."

He smiled, rather charmingly I thought. "Good girl." Damn but I was blushing again.

"I think you should prove it." He stated.

"No! Absolutely not! That's too far, David!"

"Oh well, we aren't going anywhere until you do. No-one leaves. Which means that effectively you are keeping us in after class."

There was a silence in the room, a stillness of expectation, anticipation. They all knew that this was important without knowing anything else.

I really didn't know what to do. I walked out of the room and wandered the corridor where I bumped into the short stocky middle aged figure of the balding Deputy Head, Mr Cosgrove.

"Is everything alright, Andrea?" he asked, clearly sensing my agitation. The noise coming from my classroom was like a sea of murmuring. "Did you keep the class in? You do know we have to give a day's notice? And its most unusual in a class this senior. Though I'm impressed that they're still there even though you left the room. So what was it? Lack of homework? Discipline issue?"

"Oh, a discipline issue ... not obeying instructions ... not demonstrating that instructions have been carried out?" I answered, and knew that I had to go back in.

"Well you've probably made your point .. I doubt there'll be a repeat of the disobedience. Go and dismiss the class, I want them gone in five minutes, ok? If you need help ..?"

"No, no, its ok, I can manage. But thanks." I smiled weakly at him and turned back towards my classroom.

As soon as I entered a hush rippled from the door to the farthest corner.

"Welcome back, Miss Kay," said Dave.

I didn't reply but stood leaning back against my desk, facing them.

"Now, perhaps you would tell the class what was the first thing written on yesterday's note?"

Letting out a deep sigh of defeat, I answered, "Mid thigh skirt."

"Which, like a good girl, you have worn today. And what was the second part?"

"Hold up stockings," I replied quietly.

"And did you?" He asked, gently.

"Yes," I replied, waiting for the inevitable. I only had minutes to dismiss them. It would be over soon.

"Show us." He quietly ordered.

I simply bent over a little and rucked up my skirt until the stocking tops and some thigh were showing, straightening as I did so.

I could feel the colour in my chest and face like a wave of pressure.

The class members were stunned.

"Good girl. Tomorrow same length skirt, again hold up stockings, and you will not wear your jacket in our class. Understood?"

I simply nodded and let the skirt return to its proper length while they all filed out, grinning and whispering to each other.

I wondered where this was going to end.

That evening at home I couldn't settle, and paced around my small flat before sitting in my favourite armchair. But I couldn't relax, and again paced until I was in my bedroom looking through my clothes. If I wasn't to wear a jacket then I had a number of skirts to choose from and laid out a nice blue suede skirt fitted down to the hips then flaring but still of the right length. A fresh pair of 15 Denier black stockings with lace tops joined the skirt and I actually blushed again, here alone in the privacy of my bedroom, when it occurred to me that I was allowing for having to show my stocking tops. Far worse, I was quite looking forward to it.

A pale pink long sleeved button front fitted blouse with high collar complemented the set, and I knew that I was going to 'look good' tomorrow. A pale blue v neck lambs wool sweater completed the ensemble and would allow my nicely proportioned chest to swell appropriately and emphasise my figure. For jewellery I chose a pair of simple gold long drop earrings. The flat shoes were replaced with heels. I could feel my excitement growing already. If I made an effort to look really good for them, then hopefully they would look really good for me next week. After all, it was about a quid pro quo.

I had a light supper and watched a sit-com before going to bed, reading a favourite novel until my eyes drooped enough to ensure sleep.

WEDNESDAY

(Last session)

In the morning I was at school in plenty of time, refreshed and quietly excited. Next week was going to go so well and I'd get a brilliant assessment. Of course I needed my senior class to learn the material I'd prepared but we now had a deal, and I was confident that they'd honour their part.

My other lessons went really smoothly with none of the crotchetiness of yesterday and I was looking forward to the Seniors last session.

In they came, and a few of them murmured 'nice skirt Miss' or something similar, and once Dave was in his usual place I began the lesson. We discussed page two of the notes and I was revelling in the positive looks I was getting from the boys and the girls too, my confidence expanding with their approval.

About halfway through the session, Dave raised his hand, and surprised me with,

"You look good in that outfit; I approve. But when I said no jacket, I anticipated an unobstructed view of your blouse, not for you to wear the sweater."

"I'm sorry if you're disappointed, Dave, but I have complied with your request," I pointed out.

"Your apology is accepted, Miss Kay. As I said, you do look very good. But on reflection I still want an unobstructed view of your blouse."

He made it an instruction, not an observation. I could feel a tingle inside, that feeling again, and looking round the room could see the mixture of uncertainty and hope on the faces in front of me. I could feel my own excitement rising, and didn't think I could resist. So I didn't.

Crossing my hands over I gripped the hem of the sweater and slowly lifted the soft garment up to my shoulders and neck. Pulling my arms through I then carefully lifted it over my head, avoiding snagging the earrings, and turned to place it on my desk.

Facing them again I pulled the rather tight fitting blouse straight, and asked, "Is that better, Dave?"

"Very nice!" he replied, "which gives me an idea for tomorrow. You will wear a t shirt top or sweater and may wear a jacket over it if you wish, except in our class."

"Very well," I answered. That might look quite nice, and I might also wear a necklace of some sort.

We continued the lesson as I'd planned it, and were making good progress through the material I'd given them. With five minutes to go I was beginning to get restless. The lesson was pretty much wrapped up, but I felt that proceedings were incomplete without our little end-of-lesson ritual. I couldn't tell if Dave was picking up on my own feelings, but with barely a minute before the bell he simply stated out loud,