the click-clack of her shoes echoed down the hallway. she walked with such confidence and poise that she may came across as arrogant to people who may not know her. sadly, those people are not wrong on their first judgment of her. her golden hair bounced with easy as her feet stabbed the smooth concrete beneath her. she was about to enter her class. books and papers in her expensive bag and her phone on her hands, she opened the door to the classroom, stepped inside it, and closed the door behind her.
the initial noise and liveliness of the class disappeared, melted away with the heat of the afternoon sun leaving no trace of the presence of sound and fun present in the class before she stepped in. they became silent, stoic, lifeless.
"o.k class!" her soft, shrilly voice echoed through the room and with that strange accent of hers, the students just stared at her in awe. she placed her bags and phone on her desk and stood in front of the class and observed her classroom, her babies. she liked to think of her students that way. babies, children, kids. she liked the idea that she was helping them to grow and prosper into mature, responsible young adults.
"helo students. my name is .... and i'm going to teach you literature. first before we begin with today's lesson, let me ask you. wha' is lit-er-at-chuh?"
her emphasis on the word literature left bitter taste on some of the students' ears as their face contorted with amazement at her accent. not only that, they were awed by her whole being. the immaculate way of her dressing, the golden hair that falls so neatly on her shoulders, her big, round eyes and her poutty red lips, her tall, slender body made her look more of a model rather than a teacher. she scanned around the room with her big, round eyes hoping for a volunteer but no one dared to raise their hands until the smallest girl slowly lifted her scrawny little arms, stood up and said,
"literature is love,"
"name please, miss."
"lexa, madam."
"thank you lexa. you may sit. tanyone else-t? agreement? disagreement?"
a boy with curly hair raised up his hand and said,
"literature is..." as arthur was about to complete his sentence, an unfamiliar song plagued the room. her eyes grew bigger and she reached for her phone and answered it. she whispered into the phone while arthur stood at his place clueless while the class was in an awkward silence. she finally stopped whispering to her phone and placed the phone back on her table where it belong.
"so you. wha' do you have to say about literature?"
"literature is poems and stories, history,"
"name please, mister."
"arthur, madam."
"thank you arthur. tanyone else-t? the last person, perhaps?" she nodded her head while saying this while scanning the room.
this time, a boy of bright red coloured hair stood up, looked confidently at the teacher in the eye and said
"literature is life, madam."
"good. what is your name?"
"jason, madam."
"you're my favorite jason-t! here, here's a gold-t star for you!" she rummaged through her bag of velvet-skin leather and pulled out a box which inside it lay 10 goldstars.
"jason-t!" she called out, beaming proudly. jason was hesitant at first but then he confidently walked towards her and received a goldstar from her, with a light patting on the head. jason went back to his sit quietly while the classmates stared, mouths agape.
"someone-t said," she began "that there is no wrong or right in literature. well, that only holds true if you have evidence to support your claims."
a little brown colored hair girl jenna raised her hand to ask a question but was ignored by her. she continued on with her, lecture.
"literature is about expressions, thoughts, creativity! but you will not learn all that in MY class. NO." she said this with a sly smile on her face. "you are going to learn literature my way. listen to my ideas, my points and i will guarantee you an A in your tests and quizzes if you remember what i say."
the class fell silent. jenna raised her hand again.
"yes, little girl?" she said, her face contorting softly into slight anger and annoyance.
"does this mean... does this... mean... that our ideas are not accepted if we have a different say about the literature piece?"
"you can try but make sure you have evidence, strong evidence, to support your claim. or else, it t'all will be wasted effort." she said, and smiled, a very deep, meaningful smile at jenna. jenna was glued to her seat, speechless.
"o.k class, today's lesson, we will begin on a poem called..."
the lesson went on that day with little noise and participation from the students. they were quiet. only a few said some things and even those things were shot down by her. the class ended that day with resentment from students. when she glided her way out of the class, the students made their usual noise, but this time, the noises they made were sounds of disappointments and anger.
"how can she teach us literature like this?" one boy said.
"this is unfair! i wanted her to listen to my point of view and she shot me down!" said jenna.
"this is not literature class! she can't be teaching us literature this whole year round! what will we learn? what will we learn?" cried arthur.
"you guys wanna know what i learnt from her today about what literature is?" asked jason to his classmates. they all turned to him and then jason said, "literature is dead and death."
the class grew solemn and quiet and literature has never turned out to be so lifeless.
and their literature lessons continued on with her for the remaining year and the situation, atmosphere, remained unchanged. literature is dead, they say. literature is dead.
p.s: exaggerated truth makes a good story.
