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The Perfect Teacher (Andy & Tyr)

AndNich123

AndNich123

Pulsar
Joined
Jan 22, 2014
Callie slowly made her way down the hall looking at the room numbers with name plates by them. 208. Ms. Emerson. She stood at just 5’ 4. Shorter by comparison than her classmates, and two years younger than most she was only 16. Deemed a genius, she had skipped ahead two grades simply because she was getting bored with her studies. Her tiny frame paled next to those of her fellow classmates. She always tried to blend into the background as being forgotten and overlooked was better than being noticed. Being noticed lead to teasing and torture. She would rather avoid all of that and simply learn.

A simple mishap in her cooking class had lead to her being placed in another class. After catching her shirt on fire while cooking, her teacher thought it might be best if she found another class before she hurt herself. No matter to her. The girls in the class treated her badly. This was another chance in her eyes. She had sat in the guidance office looking down the list of available classes. Music was full. Too bad. Ms. Emerson. A female teacher in an automotive class. That would be interesting. She had decided that was her class. It couldn’t be that hard, she thought. I can learn to fix cars, and be taught by another female.

So she was making her way down the hall in search of room 208. Ms. Emerson. She smiled finding it, but the smile was quickly gone before she even opened the door. Looking around, every single eye was on her, and she began to tremble. Her eyes drifted over to the teacher’s desk, and she froze. That wasn’t a lady. Her brow furrowed, as she stepped forward handing him her new schedule. She hid behind her books she carried nearly peering over them behind her glasses. Her black bag draped over her shoulder hanging by her hip. She wore jean overalls with a tacky button up shirt underneath. Her clothes were two sizes too big. “You’re not a lady, “she told him. “Look at it. Ms. Emerson.” Pointing to the name on the paper, she giggled softly for just a moment before meeting his gaze. Her hand covered her mouth as her eyes fell, and it was gone. The smile, the giggle, it was all gone. She scurried away to her seat quickly avoiding any eye contact and listening to the laughter and comments rising from the guys.
 
Jake Emerson watched as the young thing with her books slipped into the classroom. Even in this day and age of female empowerment, it still was uncommon for a girl to take the automotive class. And the ones that did were usually there for a particular guy or guys in general, or thought the class would be easy figuring it was filled with knuckle dragging guys. Yet, this girl was clearly the opposite she carried herself like one of the smart kids, the kind that were bound for college, so it was odd. He’d just have to see why she was here, but that was for later consideration. He looked over the proffered paperwork, nodding as she voiced her consternation at his sex.

No I’m not a girl, far from it in fact.

Taking the paper from her he glanced over it and saw the mistake, which was of course was irrelevant to him, but must have had some meaning to her. With her being so close, he noted her choice of clothing left much to be desired as she’d done nothing to enhance her looks or to improve her image. It was hard to tell, but on first inspection she appeared to be quite attractive, even if she’d given no effort to assist her natural looks. One of the things he so enjoyed about teaching high school was the young girls and their nubile bodies, especially when the flaunted or showed them off. Most of them preening and dressing for the attention of the boys and in some cases men they were attracted to or around. Jake taught several classes and the only disadvantage to this one, it didn’t have as many of the young attractive girls. He casually watched as she scuttled away to find a seat before he continued with the lecture.

The class was half physical application half book education. Usually he’d go over something, and then they’d go to the shop and work on the practical side. Today it was carburetor cleaning, and as Callie had only heard the last part, she was going to be at a disadvantage. Soon the class was heading out to the work area, where various carburetors were lined up on a series of long work benches, each student having a spot to work.
 
She listened to every word he had to say, devouring it and taking notes, like she always did. The boys noticed and thought it was funny and strange. She never noticed them. Once Ms…..Mr. Emerson began to speak, they were not even in the room. Focused and dedicated, she thrived on knowledge. Knowledge is constant, ever growing, and how we evolve. People? Not so much. Callie had found that people, most often, tended to be a source for pain, teasing, and abandonment. She had not been given much reason in her life to expect anything more from them than exactly what she thought.

As the class began to move, panic began to take over. She followed the guys with reservations, as she wasn’t sure what to expect. Her eyes widen in horror at the sight of all those carburetors. She swallowed hard before turning and raising her hand.

“Ms…..Mr. Emerson. I….I don’t know….I mean.” She cleared her throat. “A carburetor is a device that blends air and fuel for an internal combustion engine. It is sometimes colloquially shortened to carb or carby in Australia. The carburetor works on Bernoulli’s principle. The faster air moves, the lower it static pressure, and the higher its dynamic pressure. The throttle linage does not directly control the flow of liquid fuel. Instead, it actuates carburetor mechanisms which meter the flow of air being pulled into the engine. The speed of this flow, and therefore its pressure, determines the amount of fuel drawn into the airstream. Now I can also tell you about its history if you like.”

Facts she was able to rattle off quite easily, but looking at this thing on the work bench before her terrified her. It looked like alien technology. As far as she was concerned, it could have been. Facts are one thing. Practical application yet another, and one she wasn’t well vexed with. Having no idea how to even begin to work with one of these, she hoped to dazzle him with her knowledge. It worked on most people. If nothing more, it made them want to send her away, dismiss her, anything but listen really. Why should he be any different? In her mind, she was repeating one thing over and over again. Please don't ask me to do this.
 
None of the work areas were assigned, so each student just had to find an open space, though a few preferred to work in the same spots over and over again. The boys goofing off and jesting as they headed to their spots. As the classroom began to clear, the new student got his attention and began to spew a litany of more technical information about the carburetor, and she was preparing to go even further and give a history of it. Now Jake knew his students well, and realized they’d be bored shitless at such a dissertation.

I don’t think we need to know the history of the carburetor, we just need to know how to clean it. That's today's lesson

Jake could already imagine her raising her hand and inserting a myriad of trivial and inconsequential information. It wasn’t that it was relevant, but most of his students weren’t bound for college, and they only cared about how to make it work, not all the why and wherefores of its genesis or physics. Still Jake noted the look she gave the dirty thing that sat on the bench before her. Where others were already picking theirs up and disassembling, she just stared at it, like it was going to eat her hand. Jake didn’t roll his eyes, but had a small inner smile because of her reaction. None of the guys needed help or were even asking questions, but then again even if the boys didn’t know what they were doing, they’d hardly ever ask him, it was a guy thing. They’d just ask a bud, when he wasn’t looking. So he moved over to the newest student, and came right up behind her, and leaned over her shoulder.

Do you need assistance?

The tone was neutral and nonthreatening, but clearly indicative of him noticing her predicament and indecisiveness. While Jake stood there hovering over her, he started to think about this year, and his loss of his current special student. He tried most years to select one, very special student to educate and mold, usually he selected a loner, someone who didn’t exactly fit in, someone who had the right mix of personality, looks and brains.
 
“Do you need assistance?”

That was the understatement of the year. Of course she did. She had no idea where to even start or even pick this thing up from. Not to mention it was dirty. She shook her head slowly much to the giggling snickers from the idiots on the work bench. It should have come as no surprise to her at all how they were reacting. Just like in her cooking class when she didn’t know how to turn an oven on, she was faced with this same reaction from the girls. She looked over to them her frustration and sadness clearly evident on her face. Their teasing took a new turn.

“Awwww. Poor little rich girl. Doesn’t know how to clean a big old mean carbeaurtor? Do you need somebody to help you with it? Shit! Mr. E she don’t know nothing about this. Hell send her to study hall or something!”

The group erupted in laughter only to be followed by more teasing.

“Hell she can’t even dress herself worth a damn! Do you need somebody to come help you pick out clothes too rich girl?”

More laughter, and now her face burned red from embarrassment. She turned wanting to ask if she could be excused, transferred, anything but this. She was met with his chest though, and slowly her eyes rose to meet his. It took her a moment to find her voice and even a moment still to find the words.

“I….I was wondering….could I..that is if you don’t mind..Could you,” she looked back at the guys still laughing at her expense. Sighing she looked up at him once more. “Could you..help me? If not, could you..send me to another class. Study hall? Maybe?”

Study hall. That’s it. Send me to study hall, she thought. Part of her was hoping against hope he would just send her away to study hall, but she had to at least ask for help. That way if he said no, then she would have a good excuse for asking for the transfer. She wasn’t about to stay in a class where the teacher refused to help the student. That would be simply barbaric she thought. No one would expect me to stay here if that were the case. Part of her stood there willing him to say no he could not help her while the rest of her simply waited for his reply.
 
The young girl stood there tentative and nervous, looking at the dirty carburetor as if touched some sort of communicable disease would be acquired. The boys in the class giving her a rather hard time, which spoke to her social status, as she clearly wasn’t a member of the ‘in’ crowd. Now if she was on the outskirt of some social clichés, or truly a social outcast in school he didn’t know, at least not yet. The boys continued with their jesting till he gave them a stare, and verbally interrupted them.

Why don’t you boys stop your chattering and get the assignment done.

The boys knew better than to cause trouble with Mr. Emerson, so they quickly shuffled off to their work areas. While the boys retreated, Jake continued to stand right behind the new student. She took up this moment to question his teaching skills or more accurately his willingness to teach. Putting up the rather bold argument that if he wouldn’t help her she should be allowed to transfer. He responded rather calmly, but sternly.

Are you insinuating young lady that I wouldn’t be willing to help you, that I would simply ignore your education needs while in my class?

Jake’s strong deep masculine voice conveyed that her request was not only unappreciated, but quite unacceptable. The other students were far enough away that they couldn’t hear his confrontation of her comment. Over the years Jake had become very astute at manipulating the young girls he desired to pay special attention to. He watched and judge how they reacted, to his comments or actions, trying to get a feel for their personality and general nature.

And you feel, never having giving me a chance that your best educational chances are in study hall, and not here in the class you signed up for?

A little guilt never hurt, and just the right application went a long way.
 
“N-No. I would….never do that. Y-You would never….do such a thing. I’m sure of it. In fact, help me,” she called out spinning around to the table and grabbing the greasy mess. She turned once more, just as quickly pushing it towards him, nearly dropping it. The grease smears his shirt, and her mouth hung open.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to..get you..dirty. Here. Let me clean that.”

She turned grabbing a cloth from the table and started to rub his chest. No matter how hard she pressed, the spot only seemed to spread, and the frustration began to show on her face. It wasn’t coming out. In fact, it was getting worse. Only then did the thought creep into her mind she was rubbing his chest. Callie froze, and her eyes slowly lifted to meet his once more. She went numb in a matter of seconds. She had never even touched a man before, and here she was, before the class, rubbing the teacher’s chest. Her hand that still held the greasy trap that had caused all of this in the first place relaxed far too much, and the part fell to the floor. The entire room echoed as the students nearly leapt from their skin all giving her an awful, glaring expression.

“I-I’m so sorry! I’ll pick it up. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

Callie bent over picking up the huge blunder she had made only to find the part broken. She tried to fit it back, but it was clear it was completely finished. Once more her eyes slowly lifted to him. She swallowed hard not having any idea what was done in this situation. What would he do? Was she in trouble? Did this sort of thing happen all the time? She took one step back away from him into the work table behind her. It was the only thing that stopped her actually.

“I’m sorry. I can pay for a new one.”

“Yeah. Flaunt that money rich girl.”

“I have a job after school. I can pay with my own money. I work at a..a place..down by the beach. I can pay for it myself. My money,” she forced a smile. “I want to stay. Please. I don’t’ want to go to study hall. I want to learn all you can teach me. Will you help me?”
 
The new student was immediately apologetic, and make clear she was receptive to help. Before he could even help though, she grabbed the carburetor and basically tossed it at him; though it was clear she lost her grip. The front of his shirt got smeared with grease as the carburetor fell to the floor. So like some Pink Panther film, the young woman proceeded to compound her initial mistake by smearing the grease even more about his shirt. Jake didn’t initially do anything, but stood there passively staring as she made matters worse. The girl was a bit of a klutz and only when he grabbed her wrist did she stop her near maniacal scrubbing.

Jake held her wrist long enough to get her to stop her less than productive efforts. The girl didn’t really notice him holding her wrist, as she continued her blithering about replacing the shirt, which was interrupted by another student’s rude comment. Before Jake could interject, the girl burst out about her working and earning her money, and half way through that asked him for help. Jake glared at the boy that had made the comment, who then thought better of it, and turned back to his own work. Jake hadn’t let go of the girl’s wrist, but turned his full attention on her, his eyes boring through her.

That will be enough.

The comment meant for both of them, to not only stop them, as he took control of the situation. The girl backed up a bit, now trying to get separation, but his hold on her wrist remained, and the bench behind her limited her mobility and options.

Now pick it up, and put it back on the bench.

Jake didn’t withdraw, but simply let go of her wrist.

None of these are for actual cars, we get them at the junkyard so it they get dented, dinged or broken, no harm. Today we are learning about cleaning them, so their actual future use is irrelevant.

He said it to allay her fears, about the broken unit on the floor.

Now turn around and face the bench. Remove those pieces there and there. Place them in that tray there. There is a bottle of cleaning solvent so you can give them a bath.

Any questions so far?

Jake never said please, nor asked forgiveness for restraining her, he simply issued orders in a clear commanding and concise manner.
 
Callie nodded slowly as he spoke. Not once did her eyes leave his. Even his firm grip on her wrist was unnoticed. She was drawn into something about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but it was there. It was clearly there. He had held her attention with a look and his words. Though it was there slightly, there really was no need for any physical restraint. She would have stayed.

“Y-Yes Sir,” She stammered out in her usual way before she bent down to pick up the part. She hesitated though before grabbing it. The grease, grime, and outright filth on it most certainly deterring her from following his orders. Still, she slowly reached for it and quickly spun around to nearly throw it at the table. It clanked and nearly skidded on the surface startling the rest quietly working.

“Sorry,” she whispered out so softly it could have gone unheard for all she knew as she turned to face him. She thought he was frustrated. At lease most people tended to be that way with her. He put her fears at ease as he told her about the parts. Not that it truly mattered. She could have easily bought brand new ones for the entire school year for every one of his classes. The poor, little, rich girl comments held a lot of truth, and obliviously the students all knew it. Most people at that school, in fact, knew about her father who had gone on to make a fortune in the computer world, and she the genius daughter that would follow his footsteps. If only they all knew the ugly truth behind the loving family photos that graces the pages of the magazines he often cluttered up with him mindless ramblings during an interview.

“Y-Yes Sir,” once more she replied her voice still ever so shaky. Turning, she made tight fists before allowing her hands to open and her fingers to slowly reach for the part. The grease squished as she touched it and began to remove the parts for cleaning. Her face looking as though she had eaten something sour. Yet, she worked diligently throughout the class cleaning the vile hunk of metal. Her hands always trembling, but her work spot on.

She looked around the room searching for him as she wanted an opinion on her work. The sight of him an intimidating one to her, but she still rose her hand. “Mr. Emerson. Could you….would you please take a look at my….work? Please.” She moves her body back slightly so he could see it better. “I-Is there anything else I need t-to do to it? I tried. I always try my best. Sir.”
 
The young woman quickly moved to comply with his instruction, maybe a little too quickly as the carburetor went skittering across the work bench almost off again. Jake gave a bemused look at her near accident. The girl was trying, maybe a little too hard, but she was trying. Still his neutral tone never changed as she apologized with a soft whimper. What Jake saw so far gave him encouragement that this one might be the one. He saw so many girls, and it was only a small few that had all the right qualifications, personality and demeanor that he specifically sought out. The way this girl spoke, to her the subtle movements of her body, all were giving him hope that he might have found another girl, deserving of his special attention. Her discomfort was obvious, but he made no comment about it, rather he just observed her efforts while offering instruction.

The job done by her, was by no means professional, but she applied herself trying to do the best job she knew how. Leaving her to work, neither wanting to show special interest or to draw attention to her, he walked about the work area, inspecting everyone's work, offering assistance, compliment, critique and when necessary admonishment. As he was finishing up with a student he heard his name being called, and as it was feminine he knew exactly who was seeking his audience. Jake finished with the student he was with, before he made his way to the corner of the shop where his newest student stood before her work area asking him to inspect her work. As he approaches she steps back. Jake takes a moment to look at the various components and parts that the girl had cleaned.

I see you have done an adequate job, considering it was your first time. You should have taken those pieces apart and gotten in behind them, rather than dump them into the wash bash together. It cleans the outside of both, but leaves grime that could have been removed if you’d taken just a little more time.

Jake steps away from the work area, and stops.

Now put them back together again, after you clean that spot. No one wants a clean carburetor in pieces.

Then almost as afterthought he continues.

Oh and since I didn’t know I had a new student, so come back after school, and I will have your course material, book and syllabus for you. Plus we need to discuss how you are going to catchup and make up the material you missed, so we can get you up to speed.

Again Jake didn’t politely request her to come to see him, he rather just told her. His words all professional and businesslike, even if his thoughts weren’t.
 
“Yes S-Sir.”

She watched him walk away before returning her attention to the part in front of her. She had done an okay job, but that was never enough for Callie. She bites her bottom lip before starting to work even more so on what was before her. She could hear them talking, whispering about how she didn’t have time. They didn’t know Callie.

The grease and grime seemed to vanish to her. This became something new to her. A challenge maybe? No. A test? Maybe a little bit of both, and she was going to rise to meet it. Callie flourished in this type of setting. She took the part down to the most basic of its set-up, and with child-like care, she bathed and cleansed the parts. Her feminine, tiny hands working with grace though they were slowly becoming covered by thick, black sludge. She didn’t seem to notice anymore. She was far too focused. Something had snapped inside her when he spoke to her. Adequate. The word didn’t settle well with her. It never had. Time in class was drawing to a close quickly, and she had the part back together with a smile. ‘I did it,’ she thought. Even though she knew nothing about car parts and the like, she was proud of her accomplishment. Even the guys looked in amazement at her work astounded the timid little geek had done such a good job.

Taking out a small piece of paper, she wrote a note on it and left it by the part as the bell sounded for class to end. She grabbed her bags and dashed out of sight slipping out of the door before the boys did. When Mr. Emerson would read it, he would see:

Mr. Emerson,
I never settle for adequate. I always put all of who I am into my work, my tasks. I hope my work is beyond adequate and to your liking. I shall see you after school for my things.
Callie Coleman
P.S. Sorry about your shirt.

She grinned walking down the hall dialing her boss, Tony.
“Tony! Hi! I’m going to be late getting to work today. I have to see a teacher after school. No. Of course I’m not in trouble. Just started a new class. Okay. Bye!”

With the end of her phone conversation, she slipped into yet another class. One more class that she would drone through until the end of the day arrived. Class after class after class behind her, she finally made her way down through the dwindling hoards of students. The halls slowly empty out, and soon she knocks on the open door frame to the class. He’s in there, and she spots him. She knocks again waiting to be acknowledged before she enters. Waiting to be noticed.
 
Jake went about grading papers and clearing his desk, not in the least concerned if the young woman showed or didn’t show, for it was truly her first test. If she passed it and showed, she’d be worth more of his time, if not, she was to be nothing more than a passing name amongst so many others, soon forgotten as the next wave of students arrived. So when he heard the knock at his classroom door, he made a brief smile, putting down his pen, the look on his face returning to its normal stern professional gaze.

Enter.

Jake said as he waited, comfortable in the knowledge that his newest student had complied with his demand. Callie Coleman, was an interesting addition to his class, he had time in his open period to go and pull her file and to casually ask around a bit, checking with his colleagues and school staff, about who she was. He’d done it all under the guise of having a student added to an already running class. He even put in the perfunctory grunts of displeasure and comments of inconvenience that were expected of a person who had been foisted upon. Many times students were lost in the ocean of other students, often no more than a number, a grade level, or a name. Still one Callie Coleman was known, as rather wealthy, academic, and a loaner. Her wealthy for Jake was of no consequence, but everything he heard and read helped him get a better picture of who she was, though he was still unsure why she was in his class, but that too in time would be discovered.

The papers on his desk really were of no significance they could have been done at any time, and his sole purpose for staying after class was to see if Callie showed up. Hopefully she was like the ones before her, would be the right mix of brain, beauty, sexiness all together in a package meant to please and serve. Jake always liked the idea that he’d taken teaching to another level, with the few that showed real potential. Usually he got a year maybe two, before he sent them on their way at graduation, knowing that he’d helped them along in meeting their true destiny. Oh sure some came back, other wanted to stay, but in the end, he let them free knowing they were more ready for what life held and discovery of who and what they were. Jake looked down at the note that she’d left, reading it one more time, wandering if he was drawing too much form it, or if it held other clues he’d not yet gleaned from it.

Shut the door.

Jake never looked up, just issued his order, her letter still in his hand. Then without any warning he asks his question.


Why are you here?
 
Enter. The word, alone, her cue to come inside. She slipped inside his classroom, her shoes not even making a sound on the floor. Unseen. Unheard. Unnoticed. That was her way. She had worked very hard to perfect it. He seemed so consumed with the papers on his desk when she had knocked. Now he seemed rather focused on her. That made her uneasy. She clutched her sleeves tightly as she embraced herself. Her clothing, that would not lend anyone to the slightest notion she came from a well off family, were a size too big. If she could pull herself into a ball, she would. Her eyes only glanced up to his once before falling to the floor searching for some unknown item that clearly wasn’t there.

Mr. Emerson didn’t seem menacing. He didn’t seem unlike any other teacher she had the misfortune of knowing in the past. Most of her teachers didn’t like her. Always correcting them, setting the bar far too high for her classmates, and simply put an over-achiever that didn’t know when to stop or slow down, Callie had earned being frowned upon by so many. Compounded to that was the simple fact she was younger than the other students, and she had a tough day every single day. Here was Mr. Emerson. Here comes the usual rundown, she thought. ‘I like you Callie. I really do, but this class may not be the perfect fit for you. Perhaps you would be better suited for another class.’ It was the same the line she had heard several other times for other teachers. The last being the culinary arts teacher. Setting her own shirt on fire, causing the teacher to have to use the fire extinguisher, taking out two shelves in the process as Callie had crashed into them. Countless things broken, the class shut down for a week now to repair and restock, and an investigation by the school board. Yeah. To say she had a tough time in that class was an understatement. Today she dropped a car part, ruined a teacher’s shirt, and was a disruption to the class. Let’s hear it , she thought. Let’s get this over with.

She closed the door behind herself and stepped further inside. Yeah. Here it comes. Her arms folded tightly, she stood there like a petulant child that was being punished ashamed of some committed offense, and then he asked his question. She lifted her head taken by his inquiry. This was something she had seen before as well, but never at school. Her father, shrewd business man that he was , had asked that very question a thousand times in equally as many different situations. Having heard and seen the way it was answered when he was working at home and she was sneaking around simply to see him, she knew the best answer would be the most honest and direct. She cleared her throat.

“M-My course material, book, and syllabus. You said we needed to discuss how I was going to catch up and make up the material I missed so we could get me up to speed.” Word for word she repeated what he had told her in class before. Once more, her voice shaky, “B-Because you told me to come….Sir.”
 
The new female student stood there sullen and pensive, her eyes down cast. Jake head slowly rose as she quoted back the obvious reason for her being there. The words were his, the voice hers as she spoke, but there was more there, much more. For she added that he told her to come and called him sir, a very interesting point. His eyes coming up, as they cast over her, she knew she was being inspected, judged by him, his face revealing nothing. The moment hung there as he seemed to be evaluating what she said, her note to him still in his hand, his head bobs in acknowledgement of her statement.

Good I’m glad you can follow instructions, a thing this day and age that seems rare. I appreciate it, when my instructions are followed.

Jake didn’t offer her a seat, but let her standing there on purpose, knowing that she would be vulnerable and exposed, no place to hide. Now that he had time, his eyes going over her, taking note of not only her clothing, her hair, but her actual demeanor.

I should have been more specific about my question, why are you here in my class?

The statement wasn’t an accusation, but it was meant to garner a better understanding of her mental state. Plus he wanted to keep her just a little off balance as he worked his way into her psyche. The girl was smart that was clear, so he needed to be smart, and get a good read on her, before he pushed to far.

You don’t seem the type to take an auto class. Or do you feel this is a easy way to coast, and that you won’t have to do anything? A way you can pad your academic record.

Now Jake was confronting her, seeing what kind of answer he could entice from her. Would she get defensive, how would she react? Jake voice was professional but in no way was he coddling her. All the time he sat their with the stained shirt staring at her.
 
Stop starring at me, she thought. It made her nervous. More so than usual in fact. She wanted to be stronger. To stand upright, chin up, shoulders back, proud, strong, not afraid of anything. Instead Callie stood there cowering. She nodded to him as he spoke, even though her eyes didn’t meet his.

“No Sir,” her voice louder than she normally spoke. “I didn’t think this class would be easy. I mean….No sir. I just….I, “ her words stammered as her eyes meet him. The realization she was openly speaking to him halting her. She looked around the room for the courage to keep going. “I don’t coast Sir. I don’t..half..do anything either. I don’t like to fail. I don’t fail.” She closed her eyes taking in a deep breath. “I won’t fail. I….” She knew what she wanted to say to him, but the words wouldn’t come easy. They hardly ever did. He wanted to know why she as there though, and she would answer. He had asked that of her. “I am here because….,” deep breath, “ In music class, I-I went in on the first day and played Mozart. In culinary arts, I set my cl-clothes on fire. In art I copied a M-Monet. In drama they….couldn’t….hear me. In cosmetology I-I cut my finger and nearly passed out. In computer class I….s-stood out. I reprogrammed the computers that have my last name on the side of them. In gym I’m smaller than everyone else. I’m not as strong. The girls took me in my underwear into the boy’s locker room. Teacher had me out of there the next day.” She looked at him still. “They all threw me out. I didn’t….fit in. So if I don’t fit in here….I understand. Sir. Just give me my paper to give to the office, and I’ll be gone.” Her stutter was slowly fading with him the more she spoke to him. Was she becoming more comfortable around him? Was it because there was no one else in the room? An observation and questions she didn’t notice much less think of. She was fidgeting when she started talking to him. Hugging her arms tightly. Shifting her weight. Now? Nothing. Just standing still. Yet another observation that appeared seamless.

She held out a trembling hand to him for her paper. The little paper that he would fill out requesting a transfer for her. It would have his reason on it. Too nervous. Too advanced. Too clumsy. Too much of a disruption. Too anything but what was needed to stay in that class. Another teacher. Another reason. Her eyes drifting down to the stain on his shirt. She felt so embarrassed. Her cheeks burned. She watched it move as he breathed for just a moment. “I’ll replace the shirt.” Her hand still out for the paper as her eyes were glued to the stain. The mocking stain reminding her of exactly who she was. An out of place, clumsy, little girl who would never fit in, and now he knew it as well.
 
The young girl stuttered as she tried to answer, her nervousness and unease clear. The words came in small snippets as she not quite coherently tried to explain her reasons for being here and taking his class. Jake did nothing to erase her concern or fear, making no effort to interrupt her, for it would only give her a respite and a chance to collect her thoughts. This situation gave him the best chance of knowing her better, seeing who she was, and why she was here. The story she told in chunks and pieces was one of being ostracized and different. She didn’t conform, she wasn’t part of the ‘in’ crowd, but she was smart, and smart was important to Jake. Anyone could manipulate some good looking airhead, that didn’t have two brain cells in her head, but the reality was such things made him bored quickly. Truly it was the smart girls, the intellectual ones that truly understood what he was asking of them and their capitulation had far more meaning for him. Then there was the practical side, the dumb ones wouldn’t know when to keep their mouths shut, and could bring his activities to light by talking. Still the smart ones, mixed with the appropriate personality and demeanor, were just so much fun. Her shaking hand held out for the paper he held.

No you may not leave.

Jake denied her request for freedom, not only because he wanted her to stay, but doing so just meant he wasn't like all the others taking the convenient way out. Even if it didn’t work out that she became one of his special students, she deserved better than being tossed aside simply because it was expedient. Jake’s deep baritone voice remained neutral as he took control of the situation.

You signed up for the class and you will complete it.

The paper he held, he now put it to the side of the desk out of reach and away from her. Not even giving her the one thing she asked for.

Not only that, but you will do so by getting the top grade in this class, through hard work, dedication, study, and learning to follow my instructions. Do we understand each other Miss Coleman?

Yet that wasn’t all Jake had in mind for the young thing, for he had no doubt that she could ace any test, regurgitate any material that she heard or read. So he needed to concentrate on the practical, the physical side of the material.

However this class isn’t only about what’s in the book or lecture, and you are already behind, and I somehow doubt that you have much or any experience with automobiles. If I’ve made an unfair assessment, please let me know. I have no doubt if I give you the book and other circular materials, you’ll do fine on that portion, I however know you are likely to fail on all things we’ve learned in the shop so far. Or do you see it differently Miss Coleman?

Jake asked her in a tone that made it clear that he would doubt her if she said she did.
 
He’s not letting me go. He’s keeping me in this class. Her hand slowly lowered. Why? Her mind filled with questions that she had never had before. Everyone else always just passed her off on someone else or ignored her. This teacher wasn’t going to do either. He would see her. He did see her. Suddenly she felt more exposed than she had ever felt in her entire life. A spotlight was shining on her, and he was examining her. Her eyes darted around the room, anywhere but him really, as she asked him, “Why? I mean….of course. Sir.”

She gripped her pant leg now as she didn’t have to look at him to tell his eyes were still on her. The material gathered in her hands, her fingers, her knuckles turning white under her grasp. There was, however, a strange comfort in his words. Of course she would get the highest grade in the class. She always did. A fact that could not keep the smile from her face. “Yes Sir.” There was no hesitation. No stuttering. A confidence that Callie only rarely showed to a select few. She relaxed in that one statement. Despite his eyes on her and her insecurities about everything, in that moment, she was herself. Smiling. Self-assured.

She cleared her throat. He most certainly was spot on with his observations about her. The practical applications of the class would certainly be over her head, but what was she suppose to do? “No Sir. You are not….wrong, but what am I suppose to do?” Her eyes suddenly returning to him as she advanced forward towards him as she spoke. “Ask one of the boys for help? As if they would.” Her tone, her movement towards him realized, she froze. “I mean….I..have..a free class. I-I help in the library here. Could it..Would you want me..to come in here? I..I can’t come..after school. I work. Except weekends. I could come..during my free class..if you..want me.” Her face burned, but for some odd reason, Callie was still looking at him. Her hands gripping her clothing once more. “Yeah. I could..come then..if you want me.”

Callie took a few steps back away from him. “Why,” she asked him her voice shaky. “Why do you..insist..I stay? You could..” Her voice trailed as her mind screamed, ‘shut up!’ She looked away towards the door. There was safety in always finding the closest door. It made running away so easy. “You could pass me off like everybody else does. You’re different Mr. Emerson. Nobody ever..took the time..to..the time to..see me. You see me.” Her eyes now on the door, her safety zone, her comfort. She felt more uncomfortable than she could ever remember feeling. Mr. Emerson clearly wasn’t like any other person, teacher or not, that she had ever encountered. He was an odd one. He would not settle for his hand on her back in a photo like her father did. He would not ignore her for his selfish desires like her mother. He would not make fun of her, or simply sit by allowing others to. He would….see her. “Why Mr. Emerson? Just..Pass me on. Don’t look at me. Don’t..see me.”
 
The girl at first began to question his statement, but stopped and simply agreed and called him sir. He’d done nothing to ease the tension or give her a respite. Jake watched as the girl's discomfort and nervousness came through not only in her words and stance, but the deathly grip of her hand on her pant leg. The girl smiled when he told her she would get the highest grade, for it was clear to him, she was proud of her academic achievements, probably the one thing in her life she got noticed for. She too realized that she was behind and would have trouble completing the practical side of the class without direct assistance. He let her work through the various permutations, till she asked if he would assist her during her free class. It was the obvious conclusion, but he let her reach it, than to push it up on her. Still rather than immediately answer, he took a moment to consider her proposal and ponder it.

Before he answered, she stepped away and asked why? Why he didn’t pass her over or cast her aside as so many had done before. He continued to sit there letting her pour a part of her emotions, fears and life out knowing each thing given let him in a little more in, gave him a little more understanding of who she was. Still he waited till she ran out of steam and stood there looking at him, as if he had answers. Jake nodded like he understood, because he really did.

Well I see. Let’s just say I like the best out of my students, and most just coast through doing nothing or the least possible. You have the potential to be special, to be different, but it’s up to you. I can’t force you, I can only guide you, and if you are willing I promise that you will not regret it.

Jake of course was speaking of something quite different, but he felt no reason to explain it to her. Now was not the time to tell her what he had in mind for her future, only to hint at it.

I will take the time, if you are willing to give it.

Jake abruptly stood.

Come let’s start right now, no time like the present. We’ll go to the shop and start your education. Are you ready to learn? Can you follow my instructions, and do I as I tell you?
 
I will not regret it. The words emanated through her, with her. I will not regret it. He seemed so sure. So confident. Something she wished she could be. She drew in her bottom lip, chewing it, as she looked at the floor. Callie spent more time staring at the floor, the walls, and of course doors than anything else. Some strange comfort in that perhaps. She brought her eyes back to him though. He will guide me. I just have to be willing. Then the other words he had spoken settled with her. Something that she had overlooked. I have the potential to be special, to be different? He thinks I have potential. Nobody has ever said that to me before. He does see me. He does notice me. In just one class, one hour, this teacher has gotten to know more about me than anybody ever has in my entire life. It was a thought, a realization that hit her hard. It felt like being hit in the chest. She shook her head.

“You think I have potential,” she whispered. “Nobody ever does. Thank you.” A smile. Something she didn’t plan on spread across her face. “Okay. I’m willing. I can….do this. I won’t coast.” A laugh. Her stutter disappearing more and more. Was she relaxing around him? Was this teacher getting inside her walls and making her comfortable? Maybe. “I’ll give you my time Sir. Y-You have it.”

She jumped slightly as he rose rather quickly. Taking another step back. “Right now,” she questioned. “O-Okay, but I need to do something first.” She took out her cell phone calling her job. Turning to face the window, she waited for her boss to answer. “Tony. I’m not coming today. I have to stay after school. No,” she laughed. “Of course I’m not in trouble.” She smiled as she talked to him. In that moment, she was herself. Happy, relaxed, and self assured. Her true self, her true being shining through. “I’m just getting caught up in my new class. Hands on application and the like. I’ll let you know when I can come back. I’ve got to really pound this one out. I’m going to pass, and I’m going to do so with the highest grade in the class. You bet. You know me too well. I can do this. Okay. Bye.” The entire time her conversation was taking place, not once did she stutter. She literally forgot about Mr. Emerson being in the room. As soon as she turned to face her teacher though, the familiar, nervous girl returned. “Al-Alright then. I’m ready. I-I can do this. I can follow your instructions Sir, right down the tiniest detail. Just like you tell me to.”
 
The young girl affirmed his statement by saying she wouldn’t coast and would give her time to accomplish this. Jake just nodded his as she spoke, and though she seemed surprised about his offer of doing it right now, she handled it by making a quick call.

Good, let’s go out into the shop and get to work.

Leaving the book, paperwork, and syllabus on his desk, he headed directly for the metal doors that separated the shop and the classroom. There was no one around, as classes were over and the school basically closed for the day. And though there may be some staff and janitors about school, none would be around or in the shop, and Jake knew it. The shop itself was at the edge of campus off the parking lots away from the regular classes so any noise generated there wouldn’t disturb the normal and usually more important academic proceedings. Jake just smiled for that same academic shunning worked in his favor, as gave him and his special student lots of privacy from prying eyes or ears.

Let’s start with that car over there.

Jake indicated an older muscle car someone was either restoring or just making road worth, but with it securely blocked up and its wheels off, made no doubt that it wasn’t going anywhere. Heading directly for it, Jake lifted up the hood, and then looked back at her.

This is going to be dirty, and well…

Jake looked down at his own grease smeared shirt.

I’m already dirty. Get into one of those coveralls over there, no need for you to get dirty too.

Jake pointed at a series of mechanics jump suits that hung in a line on the wall. He went over and grabbed a mechanic towel or blanket, to throw over one fender, so they could work together.

I hope you aren’t afraid to get dirty. Now get that on and get over here, and get that head under this hood, time to show you around.
 
She followed him taking two steps to his one. Keeping up with him, she pushed through the doors; she caught up to his side. He seemed to tower over her, but she never looked up at him. Stopping when he did, she looked at the car he gestured towards. It was a pretty car, and sadly that was her only evaluation of it. Clearly it wasn’t going anywhere, but her knowledge of cars was very limited. Her father wanted her to be chauffeured around like a pampered princess, but Callie refused riding her bike everywhere. It was hard enough to try and blend in, and showing up for school every day in a limo would certainly not help that cause. This car looked like one she had seen on a magazine cover or a calendar somewhere. She watched him lift the hood. Inching ever closer she stood on her tip toes looking in as he spoke. The mere mention of his shirt as he looked at it drew her eyes to the stain once more and her cheeks burned.

“I’m….sorry about that,” she stammered out before retreating to the coveralls. It was a welcomed retreat actually. Granted she was still with eye contact of him but no longer by his side. Looking up, she saw him with his attention at the car. Anytime he would look back over to her, she would quickly look away. The coveralls smelled putrid to her, and they nearly swallowed her whole. I guess these things don’t come in girl sizes, she thought.

Still pulling on the coveralls, she made her way back over to him. “I’m not afraid of getting dirty.” A truthful statement. She just never got the chance to get dirty. Her home a museum and doting parents. Not many chances to get your hands dirty with anything. The car seemed like it was suddenly twice as high as it was moment ago. He had laid what looked like a soft blanket against the car, and while she didn’t know how to change the oil, she knew enough to know he wanted her there. She leaned against it maneuvering her body next to his. The closer she got, the faster her heart was beating. She was well aware of the just how close they were as her arms touched his. “O-Okay,” she said looking over to him. “Now we get dirty. Right?” A lump in her throat, she still looked him in the eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do first.”
 
That’s right, time to get dirty. No come over here, let look under this hood, and see what we can see.

Jake pats the spot next to him. As he sticks his head under the hood, with his toned ass sticking out, on his tight blue jeans. He’d put a light that hung from the hood to illuminate the engine compartment. The car was od and the engine less than clean, though there were a few parts that looked newer, like the belts and some of the hoses. There wasn’t a lot of room on the blanket so their bodies would be touching, as he started her education.

That’s the carburetor, that’s the alternator, that’s the oil pump, ….

Jake began to name each of the major components, pointing to each as he said their name, even leaning across her as he did so. To steady himself as he leaned over he put a hand on the small of her back, making contact with her. In fact he made no effort to not touch her, and did so as was convenient.

Now you tell them back to me.

Every vehicle is different, but in the end they all basically the same component. The older vehicles without electronics are much easier to understand and work on. Now why don’t you get a little further in there, and since you’ve cleaned a carburetor, let’s have you take this one off, so it can be cleaned.

Jake had already put a few tools he knew he needed, on the blanket on the other side. Reaching over he picks up a wrench and hands it to her.

Try that, and if its stuck, I’ll help you.
 
That’s right, time to get dirty. Now come over here, lets look under this hood, and see what we can see.

Jake indicates the spot next to him. As he sticks his head under the hood, with his toned ass sticking out, empathized by his tight denim jeans. Jack tended to wear jeans as he taught shop and slacks just weren't very appropriate and tended not to last. He’d put a light that hung from the underside of the hood to illuminate the engine compartment. The car was old and the engine less than clean, though there were a few parts that looked newer, like the belts and some of the hoses. There wasn’t a lot of room on the blanket so their bodies would be touching, as he started her education.

That’s the carburetor, that’s the alternator, that’s the oil pump, that over there is the….

Jake began to name each of the major components, pointing to each as he said their name, even leaning across her as he did so. To steady himself as he leaned over he put a hand on the small of her back, making more contact with her. In fact he made no effort to not touch her, and did so as was convenient.

Now you tell them back to me.

Every vehicle is different, but in the end they all basically have the same components. The older vehicles without electronics are much easier to understand and learn basics. Nothing wrong with the new models, and knowing electronics and computers is a necessity, most of the students here will never get that far. Now why don’t you get a little further in there, and since you’ve cleaned a carburetor, let’s have you take this one off, so it can be cleaned.

Jake had already put a few tools he knew he needed, on the blanket on the other side. Reaching over he picks up a wrench and hands it to her. Not really giving her enough information, so he could see how she performed. Plus he was pretty sure is was going to be a bitch to get it off, and that she would probably fail and need his assistance or run into some trouble.
 
She had climbed up next to him, and as he began to talk one realization set in with her. His arm is touching mine, she thought. He is touching me. She looked down at the car, and though she heard his words, none of them really sank in. She was a bit distracted. Funny thing for her too as it never really happened to her. Callie was always so focused, but the touch of another, this close before, had her mind blank. She nodded as he listed off the various part underneath the hood. Some of them she actually heard. Others she would never be able to call them off back to him. Sadly, that was exactly what he asked her to do.

“Th-This is the carburetor.” She smiled certain of that one due to the days events. “This is the….the oil pump. That’s the….the…battery?” Clearly is was more of a question than an affirmation that she knew the part she was naming. As he spoke about electronics and computers, her smile only broadened. This was something she was comfortable with. Again nodding at his instruction, she took the wrench and climbed further inside. Going after it, she thought it would be easy to remove, but again her knowledge of cars and their various parts was proving to be lacking. She pulled and struggled to no avail before finally she lost her balance as the wrench slipped. She turned towards him grabbing him tightly. Her now greasy fingers grabbing what was once clean fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I slipped, and I….messed up the rest of your shirt,” she looked at her hands. She had dropped the wrench which clattered to the floor. “I’m so sorry. I am so sorry. I..I just couldn’t get it, and I tried. Darn it I tried!” Callie was clearly frustrated and angry, but even then she had learned to keep her temper to a certain check level. “I can crawl under the car and get the wrench if you want me to. I’ll get this part off and cleaned. You have my word. You told me to do it, and I will follow through. This class means too much to me not to. I have to. I have to pass. Failure is not an option. I just didn’t think it would be so..so..hard.” Callie just noticed how much she was babbling to the poor teacher, and her cheeks blushed. “Sorry. I get carried away.” Her stutter gone, but her nerves were always right there with her. “Mr. Emerson, would you help me please Sir?”
 
The young woman struggled and was hesitant Jack could see that, but she got most of the things right, as she tried to reiterate back the list of engine components. Still she tried and was clearly happy with her own performance. So they moved on to removing the carburetor which went as badly or even worse than expected. His newest student’s tool went tumbling down with a clang, followed by yet another greasy assault on his shirt. When she sought to balance herself, he assisted by reaching out a taking a hold of her, attempting to steady her. The girl started a litany of words trying to apologize yet again for her mistakes. This time Jake responded in a stern and commanding voice.

Stop! Stand there don’t move.

Taking control of the situation and hopefully her, he began to see if his suspicions were right. He stood there before her, his shirt covered in greasy handprints, looking down at her with a frown as she apologized and asked for help. Her failures were clear, and all of it really was irrelevant to him, for her presence and hopeful submission were all that mattered to him. No, he couldn’t just throw her over the fender of the car and mount her behind like some wild animal, as much as he wanted to.

I will help you but you have to listen and obey. You’re a smart girl, so stop and listen.

Jake’s hand was still on her hips as she’d began pawing his shirt for stability. The voice he used wasn’t mean, but it was strong and clear, as he began to exert his will over the situation, and by association her. She was at a disadvantage for he already started in a position of power, but he too understood everybody had a basic nature at this girl’s age, and some were meant to lead and others to follow. He didn’t want to deny her intellect, he just wanted to bring forth what he guessed were her natural inclinations, and to educate and train her.

You’ve always know all the answers, there hasn’t been any intellectual challenge you couldn’t not only succeed in but destroy. My class and I are different. You’re going to feel pushed, I’m going to push your boundaries, and take you further and beyond anything you’ve thought possible, but if you trust me, I promise this will be the most rewarding education you’ve ever had. I won't push you aside or try to get rid of you.

The way he said it was dead pan serious. Jake meant ever word of it, though what he intended and what she might assume he meant were probably two entirely different things. Still Jake wanted to be honest, and though he made no effort to clarify it, he’d voiced his true intentions.

If you agree to take up this challenge, I’m going to be hard, firm and demanding, but something earned is far more valuable then something just given. I’m going to work you hard, and I think you will enjoy all of it in the end. However, what I’m not going to accept are complaints, delays, or whining, you either do it or you’re gone. Do you submit to my terms?

Jake never said please, or gave her any opportunity to ask questions. She either was going to or not going to it was that simple.
 
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