I'm Meredith and I've just been appointed as a teacher at Fairmont High. I had a brand new degree behind me and Fairmont High had a good reputation, though there were a few odd rumours that floated around about it. Not that it bothered me. I had a job.
I fronted up at the school the day before the term began to make the acquaintance of the other teachers and familiarise myself with the school and the school rules. I won't say I made a sterling impression, at least not where Mrs Fotheringham, the headmistress was concerned.
"Is that the sort of attire you intend to wear?" Mrs Fotheringham asked me, running her eyes up and down my skirt and blouse rather disdainfully. "We do tend to dress a little conservatively at Fairmont. You might like to keep that in mind."
I was all, yes, ma'am, of course, ma'am, while at the same time wondering what her problem was. I'd already met several other women teachers and their outfits were similar to mine. A surreptitious check of the school rules assured me that I was fine. Perhaps Mrs Fotheringham just liked the female teachers to be more demurely attired. (For demurely read old-fashioned.)
"Yes, well off you go. Just be careful around the boys. They're not what you would call gentlemen. If you have any problems feel free to come and talk to me. If I'm not available speak to Sam Ogilvie and he'll sort things out. He's in charge of discipline, by the way. Remember to read the rules regarding discipline."
I looked up the discipline rules and was surprised to find that Fairmont endorsed corporal punishment. I hadn't known any schools still had corporal punishment, although I could recall a few cases where it has been badly needed.
The first morning everything went well. At lunch-time I had a quick meal and then set out to explore the school more thoroughly. If I had to get somewhere I need to be sure I knew where that somewhere was.
That's when I fell into trouble. I was at one of the lonelier parts of the school, checking out one of the classrooms when I heard the classroom door close. Turning around I found two of the boys standing there, smirking at me.
When I say boys I suppose I should really say young men, or young thugs in this instance. They were both big and beefy, undoubtedly part of the football team. From the look of them I'd have said age eighteen, or even older if they'd been held back a year.
"Can I help you?" I asked, my tome plainly indicating that the reply I wanted was no.
"Maybe, cutie," said one of them, his smirk growing wider. "We're stars of the football team and we just know you want to make our closer acquaintance."
"I'll pass," I said, icicles dripping from my voice. "Be on your way."
I wasn't going to give these two creeps even the slightest leeway.
"Now don't be like that," protested the second boy, both of them moving closer. "You really need to get to know us better. You'll find we grow on you."
"Like fungus? Goodbye." I stepped forward to walk past them and away and was quite shocked when they grabbed me.
I promptly started to struggle, to make them get their hands off me. I was just opening my mouth to scream when one of them slapped his hand across my mouth.
"Let's not invite in any extras," he said with a laugh. "You'll find that we're more than enough to satisfy you."
I managed to twist my head to the side, not enough to remove the hand but enough to give me some leeway. I opened my mouth and bit down, hard. At the same time I kicked out at the second boy, scoring hard on his knee. The boy I was biting was now trying to get his hand free, yowling. The boy with the knee had sunk down to the floor, holding his knee, swearing something chronic. Apparently sensible shoes weren't just good for being on your feet all day.
My chew-toy managed to yank his hand free and push me away. He grabby gimpy by an arm and hauled him to his feet and the two boys beat feet out of there, apparently not wanting to stop and fight. I let them go.
With the boys departure I was angry enough to decide that a follow-up was required and went to report the matter to Mrs Fotheringham. If an assault on a teacher didn't warrant official action I didn't know what would. I was out of luck with seeing her.
"I'm afraid that she's fully booked for the afternoon and the next two days," her secretary informed me. "Unless it's urgent it will have to be put off for a while. Can someone else help you?"
The implication came across loud and clear. Don't bother Mrs Fotheringham. Sort the problem out yourself.
I smiled and said I'd talk to one of the more experienced teachers and get some advice from them and departed, deciding that I didn't like secretaries. Considering what to do and who to see I remembered Mrs Fotheringham telling me to speak to Sam Ogilvie and mentioning he was in charge of discipline. If anything was a matter of discipline, this was.
Before I went to see him I review the rules and regulations, wanting to be sure I understood all the rules. They seemed fairly straightforward. With my next class due in a few minutes I didn't have time to sit and talk with him right then but I did swing past his office and asked him if I could talk to him later. He smiled and said to see him in his office immediately after last bell and I'd have his full attention.
I carefully reviewed what had happened so that when I went and saw Sam later I was able to lay it all out succinctly and accurately, with a description of the two boys and what I'd done. Basically I had several questions I wanted answers to. What to do about those boys? Why would they try to jump me like that? What could I do to ensure that it doesn't happen again?
I approached Sam's office at the same time as a student. She politely indicated that I should go first and took a seat outside the office. I went in and greeted Sam.
Everything went as expected. Sam was sympathetic and helpful. He produced an album with the senior boys in it and I was able to pick out the two boys I'd tangled with. He told me to forget about them -- he'd handle it. That was fine by me. If I never saw them again I was OK with that, too.
"What I want to know was why they thought it was alright to treat me like that," I complained, "and what do I do to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"They're boys," said Sam, "and a certain type of boy sees every girl as a potential chance. They work on the principle that some girls do and if some girls do then all girls do and when those girls see their masculine charms they can't help but succumb. You need to ensure that the boys know that where you're concerned the some girls don't mantra comes to mind. Did I see Darcy sitting outside my office?"
I nodded and Sam laughed.
"I wonder what she's done this time. Invite her in for a moment."
I called Darcy in and she came in, looking nervous.
"You'll notice that Darcy's clothes are of a style similar to yours but she's never bother with unwanted attention. Well, I won't say never, but any attention that comes her way is very circumspect. Darcy, why don't you tell Miss Fanfield the story of numb-nuts Hogan?"
"I wasn't involved with that," Darcy said quickly.
"Yes, yes, but I'm sure you know the story well enough to tell Miss Fanfield."
"Um, yes, well, Hogan made a very crude pass at one of the girls, groping her in a way not to be tolerated. The girl grabbed him by the testicles, crushed them together, and then rubbed them hard against each other. While she had his attention she explained to him that if he ever groped her like that again she'd change his new nick-name from numb-nuts to no-nuts. It's been said that she pressed the edge of a knife again his groin, just to get the message across. That probably didn't happen as knives are against school rules and I'm sure the girl wouldn't dream of breaking the rules that way. I certainly wouldn't. She was just giving a hypothetical possibility if Hogan was stupid enough to test her again."
"And did the threat work?" asked Sam.
"Like a charm. The girl hasn't been bothered by unwanted attentions since."
"You see," Sam said to me. "Make a big enough impression the first time someone gets out of line and you'll find it carries through. According to what you told me I suspect that you made that sort of impression. I will, of course, emphasize it when I speak to them."
That answered my questions. They tried it on because they were idiots. My rather violent response should be enough to keep the other idiots out of my way. Just normal care should suffice.
"While you're here, Darcy, did you need to see me for something? Don't worry about Miss Fanfield. She'd busy learning out ways."
Darcy produced an envelope and handed it over, seeming a little reluctant. Sam took it and sighed.
"From Mr Wills, I see. Why don't you give me your version about what really happened?"
"Um, Mr Wills seemed to get the impression that I told him that if his drunken hands touched my breasts I was going to break them, not that I actually said that, he just misheard. Anyway, he wouldn't listen to reason and sent me for corporal punishment. Mrs Fotheringham is unavailable so I came here."
"Was Wills drunk?"
