School Will Never Be the Same

History lived up to its boring expectations and my history folder now had two crisp new pages covered in notes about the English civil war. I made my way through the packed corridors towards Mr. Ways room, I was going to work on my art project through break, Mr. Way always lets me use his room at break and he’s never in there. Gives me some alone time with my art and my thoughts. I pushed open the unlocked door, the room was empty but the white board was filled with the previous classes assignment. And a lot of the previous students had cleared their materials and such away. So I did it for them. I like a clean space to work in.

“Natalie, why are you cleaning up mess left by year nines? I was just coming back to clean up myself, you can just sit in here while I do it and work on your coursework you know,” Mr way said, he made me jump about three feet in the air. He’s never around at break. He drinks coffee in the staff room. I turned to face him; my heart still hadn’t recovered from the shock of him surprising me and I am generally nervous when I'm around him.

“No worries Mr. Way, I got it covered. Besides I hate working in a mess and I don’t mind one bit. I'm a tidy person,” I smiled taking some supplies to the cupboard. I heard Mr. Way chuckle and when I turned around he was putting his messenger bag on his cluttered desk with his starbucks mug on the edge. He ran his fingers through his hair and began to help cleaning.

“That makes one of us, my house is just organised chaos, if it was my choice I would hire someone to tidy this room after every class for me.” Mr Way said looking through the mess on his desk. After he found a white board eraser thing he cleaned off the board. “You in the market for a job?”

“No sorry, already got one. And during school I tend to go to these little things called lessons every period. Did you have those in New Jersey?” I asked with a smile. He laughed and nodded.

“Funny enough yeah we did. Even back in the day when I was a loser teenager,” he smiled. “So where do you work?” I wondered why he had asked, but I told myself he was just making conversation to eliminate any awkward silences. I don’t get my hopes up about anything. I couldn’t imagine Mr. Way as a loser. He’s pretty popular amongst most of the students over here in good old England. And he has the looks for someone who is the opposite of a loser. I couldn’t see him with too many spots and horrible glasses, wearing bad checkered shirts and jeans which don’t fit. Well that’s what I picture when I think of loser. Or just myself when I was back in year 9.

“I'm a waitress at the restaurant down the road from here.” I took my seat when I had finished clearing the room. I opened my sketchbook and began to doodle in the corner. Our art project this term is to fill a sketchbook, sometimes we’re assigned something, sometime’s we’re not.

“Oh yeah, I’ve never been in there. I’ve always wanted to though. And now I know they higher good staff I will most definitely have to pop in for dinner sometime.” He smiled from his desk. The bell rang signalling the end of break and the beginning of third period. “Well I best get on with my job.” As he finished talking the door opened and members of the class began to fill the room.