| Fantasy Science Fiction posted January 3, 2016 | Chapters: |
1 -2- 3... 
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Nancy Jordan finds her students acting strangely.
A chapter in the book The Daredevil Girls From Bunker Hil
Just Another Day in the Classroom.
by davisr (Rhonda)
| Background The story begins as Nancy Jordan, who had just had a terrifying nightmare about being lost in the desert, faces a mysteriously unruly class the next day. |
Slowly and methodically, Nancy Jordan scrutinized her classroom of seventh-graders. She tried to shake off the horrors of the night before, and not compare the desert wasteland of her dream with her science class. The howling wind, she reminded herself, was not the collective voices of her students, the burning sun, not the lights from the Smart Board, and the wriggly, squirmy kids, not the enemy. They were here to learn science, and she to teach it. She could do this---she always did.
The moment of angst soon passed. She put a smile on her pretty, and notably, unscorched face. She loved her job, and, most of the time, it loved her back. That's why she stayed, that and the realization she was hopelessly addicted to science -- a fact her extremely eventful childhood had been unable to erase.
Shifting back from her unsettling reverie, Nancy noticed the students acting abnormally, even for 12-year olds. The room was absolutely charged with excitement. In response, she stood up a little taller in the high-heeled shoes she had chosen to wear that morning. She loved to dress up after a nightmare. It was her way of thumbing her nose at whatever dark recess of her subconscious was trying to intrude on her new wonderful life.
An attractive young woman by most standards, she had expressive blue eyes and a penetrating smile. She was of medium height and weight with the hint of an hourglass figure. Shapely legs demanded instant attention, but were often hid beneath skirts a tad too long to be fashionable. Smart blouses graced a well-shaped neckline and accented a firm and attractive chest. Her fair complexion sported the remnants of freckles that had plagued her childhood, and a small scar gracing the space right above her left eyebrow -- a grim reminder of another lifetime.
Nancy looked around the room and wondered what could possibly have gotten into her first-period students to drive them to such an excited state. Whatever it was, definitely threw off the feng-shui balance of the room, if such a thing existed.
As a teacher, Nancy was flexible, as most in her profession tended to be, but the students' unusual behavior threatened to develop into a real problem. She hoped there had not been another food fight in the cafeteria at breakfast. Such an event could cause a class disruption for at least half the day, and after the way her night had gone, she was hoping for an easy morning.
Clearing her throat dramatically, she prepared to begin. The effort was wasted, however, as whatever was distracting the students was not dissipating. Exasperated, she proceeded to clear her throat louder this time, and head for the light switch. A quick on and off flick never failed to get their attention.
Before she got there, the room fell silent, as though on signal. Confused, she turned around and faced the youthful crowd. They sat calmly and quietly, just as students should. There were excited smiles on their collective faces, but they were silent and attentive.
"Good," she said out loud---the heels and calm demeanor had paid off.
Nancy smiled as she walked over to the Smart Board and switched the power on with the small white remote, flinching ever so slightly as the bulb shone in her eyes, mimicking the sun in her dream. How, she had to wonder, did you have flash-backs from dreams that were flash-backs, themselves? Oh, well, such was the life she was destined to live because of her childhood. Just one more reason she was relieved to have left it behind.
"If you will take out a piece of paper and a pen or pencil, we will take a quiz over yesterday's notes," she began with forced enthusiasm. "Then we will exchange papers and grade them. Afterwards, we will perform a lab using microscopes."
Still, the students sat quietly. No one moved... no one talked... no one even flinched. Nancy looked closely to make sure they were still breathing. Sure enough, she could see they were alive, and that the electricity she had felt when she first walked in had grown even thicker in their quiet than it had when they were being hyper. She gazed from person to person, hoping to discover some clue to explain their mysterious behavior. She was not that fortunate. All she got was upwardly turned smiling faces. This behavior was not just unusual; it was downright frightening.
"Okay," she finally said. "What gives? What are all of you up to?"
Tina Alice, a small, but spirited, girl on the front row boldly raised her hand. Long brown hair fell into bright hazel eyes. She brushed it back with her free hand in a way that was habitual. She tilted up a tiny freckled nose. It was obvious Tina was used to getting attention, especially from her favorite teacher.
"Yes?" Nancy asked, leaning back against her desk to take some of the weight off of her aching feet.
"Well, we were wondering," Tina began boldly, waving her hand in a circular motion to include the whole class, "where exactly you are from."
"Where exactly I am from?" Nancy repeated with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "That's it? All of this strange behavior just because you want to know where I am from?"
"More or less," Tina said.
Looking around the room at the expectant faces, Nancy had to suppress a nervous giggle. Surely such a simple matter could not be captivating her entire class. She just wasn't that lucky. She had a feeling this was heading somewhere else; somewhere she didn't want to go. She paused a moment, closing her eyes in silent protest to their questions, and to a secret past she longed to let go.
"I was raised in a small town south of here," she said. "Now, get your paper and pens out for the quiz."
There was no attempt on the part of the students to comply, or, in fact, to do anything but sit still and stare. She looked at them, they looked at her. Finally, Tina's little hand rose boldly again.
"Now what?" Nancy asked.
"What is the name of the small town?" she persisted, unafraid of her teacher's moodiness.
"Yeah," Billy Conner interrupted. "Details, Miss Jordan. That's what you have always taught us. Good scientists are all about details. We know you can do better."
Billy was a large boy for a seventh grader, tall, strong and muscular. He played on the middle school football team as a tackle, and already had his sights set on a high school State Championship ring. He was a natural leader, possessing rare foresightedness that set him apart from his classmates. He had a twin sister, Belle, who was also in Nancy's first-period class, and who was a bit more tactful.
Nancy took a deep breath and closed her eyes again.
"Why did I ever start teaching seventh graders?"
"You said," Tina spoke up, "that you chose our grade because it's at our age people start choosing the type of person they will become, and then you mentioned something about it being a 'pivotal part of your own life', whatever that means."
"Right," Nancy said.
Tina was correct on both counts. Twelve to thirteen was the age range youngsters started to leave the child behind and reach towards the adult. It was, also, the age she had begun a life that would forever change her. She looked up at the students and lifted her head proudly
"I am from a small town near Houston," she said. "It is called, Bunker Hill."
Immediately the electricity in the room skyrocketed as knowing glances were exchanged. Belle, Billy's twin, broke the tense silence.
"Are you THE Nancy Jordan in the newspaper story, then?"
"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."
Before Belle could explain, Tina stood up and held an obvious copy of the front page of a newspaper. The headline, which came from the, Bunker Hill Chronicle, stated in bold words,
Sixth Daredevil Girl Sought by Classmates for a Reunion.
Beneath the headline was a brief story, and a grainy yearbook photo of a girl who could have been just about anyone. The students in the class looked at Miss Jordan expectantly. It seemed they had all viewed the article before she arrived.
"That's funny," Nancy sputtered, taking the paper from its young owner, and placing it on her desk. "I wonder who this is?"
"You don't know?" Belle asked.
"Well, the picture is very poor quality."
"Oh, come on," Billy interrupted. "Forget the picture. Were you, or were you not a member of the famous all-girl group who fought evil throughout the United States ten to fifteen years ago called the Daredevil Girls from Bunker Hill?"
The classroom grew tensely quiet as Nancy continued to lean against her desk and weigh the consequences of her answer.
The moment of angst soon passed. She put a smile on her pretty, and notably, unscorched face. She loved her job, and, most of the time, it loved her back. That's why she stayed, that and the realization she was hopelessly addicted to science -- a fact her extremely eventful childhood had been unable to erase.
Shifting back from her unsettling reverie, Nancy noticed the students acting abnormally, even for 12-year olds. The room was absolutely charged with excitement. In response, she stood up a little taller in the high-heeled shoes she had chosen to wear that morning. She loved to dress up after a nightmare. It was her way of thumbing her nose at whatever dark recess of her subconscious was trying to intrude on her new wonderful life.
An attractive young woman by most standards, she had expressive blue eyes and a penetrating smile. She was of medium height and weight with the hint of an hourglass figure. Shapely legs demanded instant attention, but were often hid beneath skirts a tad too long to be fashionable. Smart blouses graced a well-shaped neckline and accented a firm and attractive chest. Her fair complexion sported the remnants of freckles that had plagued her childhood, and a small scar gracing the space right above her left eyebrow -- a grim reminder of another lifetime.
Nancy looked around the room and wondered what could possibly have gotten into her first-period students to drive them to such an excited state. Whatever it was, definitely threw off the feng-shui balance of the room, if such a thing existed.
As a teacher, Nancy was flexible, as most in her profession tended to be, but the students' unusual behavior threatened to develop into a real problem. She hoped there had not been another food fight in the cafeteria at breakfast. Such an event could cause a class disruption for at least half the day, and after the way her night had gone, she was hoping for an easy morning.
Clearing her throat dramatically, she prepared to begin. The effort was wasted, however, as whatever was distracting the students was not dissipating. Exasperated, she proceeded to clear her throat louder this time, and head for the light switch. A quick on and off flick never failed to get their attention.
Before she got there, the room fell silent, as though on signal. Confused, she turned around and faced the youthful crowd. They sat calmly and quietly, just as students should. There were excited smiles on their collective faces, but they were silent and attentive.
"Good," she said out loud---the heels and calm demeanor had paid off.
Nancy smiled as she walked over to the Smart Board and switched the power on with the small white remote, flinching ever so slightly as the bulb shone in her eyes, mimicking the sun in her dream. How, she had to wonder, did you have flash-backs from dreams that were flash-backs, themselves? Oh, well, such was the life she was destined to live because of her childhood. Just one more reason she was relieved to have left it behind.
"If you will take out a piece of paper and a pen or pencil, we will take a quiz over yesterday's notes," she began with forced enthusiasm. "Then we will exchange papers and grade them. Afterwards, we will perform a lab using microscopes."
Still, the students sat quietly. No one moved... no one talked... no one even flinched. Nancy looked closely to make sure they were still breathing. Sure enough, she could see they were alive, and that the electricity she had felt when she first walked in had grown even thicker in their quiet than it had when they were being hyper. She gazed from person to person, hoping to discover some clue to explain their mysterious behavior. She was not that fortunate. All she got was upwardly turned smiling faces. This behavior was not just unusual; it was downright frightening.
"Okay," she finally said. "What gives? What are all of you up to?"
Tina Alice, a small, but spirited, girl on the front row boldly raised her hand. Long brown hair fell into bright hazel eyes. She brushed it back with her free hand in a way that was habitual. She tilted up a tiny freckled nose. It was obvious Tina was used to getting attention, especially from her favorite teacher.
"Yes?" Nancy asked, leaning back against her desk to take some of the weight off of her aching feet.
"Well, we were wondering," Tina began boldly, waving her hand in a circular motion to include the whole class, "where exactly you are from."
"Where exactly I am from?" Nancy repeated with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "That's it? All of this strange behavior just because you want to know where I am from?"
"More or less," Tina said.
Looking around the room at the expectant faces, Nancy had to suppress a nervous giggle. Surely such a simple matter could not be captivating her entire class. She just wasn't that lucky. She had a feeling this was heading somewhere else; somewhere she didn't want to go. She paused a moment, closing her eyes in silent protest to their questions, and to a secret past she longed to let go.
"I was raised in a small town south of here," she said. "Now, get your paper and pens out for the quiz."
There was no attempt on the part of the students to comply, or, in fact, to do anything but sit still and stare. She looked at them, they looked at her. Finally, Tina's little hand rose boldly again.
"Now what?" Nancy asked.
"What is the name of the small town?" she persisted, unafraid of her teacher's moodiness.
"Yeah," Billy Conner interrupted. "Details, Miss Jordan. That's what you have always taught us. Good scientists are all about details. We know you can do better."
Billy was a large boy for a seventh grader, tall, strong and muscular. He played on the middle school football team as a tackle, and already had his sights set on a high school State Championship ring. He was a natural leader, possessing rare foresightedness that set him apart from his classmates. He had a twin sister, Belle, who was also in Nancy's first-period class, and who was a bit more tactful.
Nancy took a deep breath and closed her eyes again.
"Why did I ever start teaching seventh graders?"
"You said," Tina spoke up, "that you chose our grade because it's at our age people start choosing the type of person they will become, and then you mentioned something about it being a 'pivotal part of your own life', whatever that means."
"Right," Nancy said.
Tina was correct on both counts. Twelve to thirteen was the age range youngsters started to leave the child behind and reach towards the adult. It was, also, the age she had begun a life that would forever change her. She looked up at the students and lifted her head proudly
"I am from a small town near Houston," she said. "It is called, Bunker Hill."
Immediately the electricity in the room skyrocketed as knowing glances were exchanged. Belle, Billy's twin, broke the tense silence.
"Are you THE Nancy Jordan in the newspaper story, then?"
"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."
Before Belle could explain, Tina stood up and held an obvious copy of the front page of a newspaper. The headline, which came from the, Bunker Hill Chronicle, stated in bold words,
Sixth Daredevil Girl Sought by Classmates for a Reunion.
Beneath the headline was a brief story, and a grainy yearbook photo of a girl who could have been just about anyone. The students in the class looked at Miss Jordan expectantly. It seemed they had all viewed the article before she arrived.
"That's funny," Nancy sputtered, taking the paper from its young owner, and placing it on her desk. "I wonder who this is?"
"You don't know?" Belle asked.
"Well, the picture is very poor quality."
"Oh, come on," Billy interrupted. "Forget the picture. Were you, or were you not a member of the famous all-girl group who fought evil throughout the United States ten to fifteen years ago called the Daredevil Girls from Bunker Hill?"
The classroom grew tensely quiet as Nancy continued to lean against her desk and weigh the consequences of her answer.
 Recognized |
Special thanks to MKFlood for the beautiful artwork, "Are you ready for school"
The Daredevil Girls were tales begun by my father many years ago as a way of teaching morals and lessons to my sister and I growing up. Time and distance has removed the content of the stories from my memory, but their spirits live on in this book that has become my signature novel. Originally published 6 years ago, I bought the copyright from the publisher and am rewriting it here on this site. I have written and published its sequel, Faces of Darkness, which is still under copyright. I have two more written that are not published, and will probably find their way here in their time to face the scrutiny of my friends.
Please feel free to make comments to help me along the way. I love the tales, but they need to "grow up" as this site as helped me do with the many stories and poems I have written here.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. The Daredevil Girls were tales begun by my father many years ago as a way of teaching morals and lessons to my sister and I growing up. Time and distance has removed the content of the stories from my memory, but their spirits live on in this book that has become my signature novel. Originally published 6 years ago, I bought the copyright from the publisher and am rewriting it here on this site. I have written and published its sequel, Faces of Darkness, which is still under copyright. I have two more written that are not published, and will probably find their way here in their time to face the scrutiny of my friends.
Please feel free to make comments to help me along the way. I love the tales, but they need to "grow up" as this site as helped me do with the many stories and poems I have written here.
Artwork by MKFlood at FanArtReview.com
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