"My day's been going well so far" you say, putting on an air of confidence. "Can I help you with something?"
Miss Gonzales smiles down at you kindly. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. I heard about you and made sure to make some time to meet you. What brings you to this school?" To you, who are unnaturally good at reading people's true personalities, she seems honest and trustworthy.
You breathe a little more easily. "I've always wanted to teach," you reply, "and this school needed a teacher."
"What are you teaching?"
"Well, the principal wanted me to try math, so that's what I'm doing today." You flip through your planner to the next class. Eleventh grade geometry.
Miss Gonzales looks impressed. "Good luck with your teaching. I've got to run, but it was nice meeting you." She turns to go, her huge form filling the doorway.
"Wait, Miss Gonzales?" you say into the mic. You feel she might make a good friend if you ever needed one in this new job.
She turned around. "You can call me Janet," she says.
You climb over a pencil and look up at her. "Since I'm new here . . . Janet . . . do you think I could have your number? I don't know hardly anyone here and I might need help during these first weeks."
Janet reaches her giant fingers towards you, catching you by surprise, but to your relief she only picks up the pencil behind you.
"Here's my number. I'd be glad to help you. At your size, you can't do well on your own," she says, writing her number on a corner of a lined paper for you.
You thank her profusely and put her number on your phone. Janet leaves the room.
By now, your next class is coming in the classroom and taking their seats. Like the previous class, no one notices the little man on the desk. Girls are chattering and some are getting their books out; there are about seven girls in all. Small class. You can see that three of them are close friends, the kind that break rules and share secrets. You catch the names Isabel and Yvonne. One, whom the others call Stephanie, seems quiet and observant, and the other three look bored.
You clear your throat in the microphone, causing the room to go quiet.
"Students, I'm your new teacher, Mr. Jones," you say. The girls look around, confused, until Stephanie points you out on the desk.
"You??" one girl blurts out. She rises out of her seat, and of course, the others begin to do the same.
"Girls, please, sit down and we can introduce each other. Now as I said, my name is Mr. Jones, and I'll be teaching you geometry this year . . ."
It is obvious that the girls are not listening to you, but all talking at once and approaching the desk. You feel vulnerable.
"What, is that the teacher?" one says, pointing her finger at you as if you were a child. "Hey teacher, isn't the desk a little big for you?"
The others laugh at the joke. You attempt to reply but are cut off by more remarks.
"How's he going to teach us?"
"He can't even lift up that pencil, I bet."
"Ha!" huffs the girl named Isabel, peering down at you. She has a pouty face and long earrings, which you are pretty sure go against the dress code. "This class will be a breeze. Hey, no geometry class, people. I've always hated geometry."
"Now, class," you say sternly, raising your voice, "take your seats. You are wasting valuable class time. Now, let's start on page six and see what--"
You gasp in surprise as Isabel's huge hand suddenly grabs the microphone and switches it off.
"You can't tell us what to do," she says. "You're just a little guy. I've always hated geometry." Her hand hovers next to you. "Why, I could just--"
"Don't touch me!" you yell, but . . .
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