Teaching Trial

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 5/31/2002 1:36:43 AM)

I had been having terrible headaches lately, probably because I was still recovering from the incident. Still, I had promised to visit Jake's house, at the request of his parents.

Jake was one of the many students I taught at Jackson High School. His mother contacted me last week about his math grades, which were horrible, to say the least.

I gazed down at the piece of paper upon which I had scribbled the directions. I have difficulty focusing sometimes, again probably because of the migraines I'd been having since the accident.

I turned down Oak Street and headed for the fifth house on the right. My head was throbbing; the medicine I had taken earlier had not gone into effect yet.

Six months ago, before I went on disability, I had a similar encounter with another student. Jeremy could not grasp math principles at all. I wondered how he ever got past elementary school.

I remember - I mean, how can I forget that time I went to his house to have a conference with his mom and dad. They seemed like good parents, yet they, too, had trouble getting Jeremy to apply himself, not only to math, but also to other school subjects.

It seemed that he was consumed with furniture making. Entering his home, I sat down on a wooden rocking chair. That's when it happened.

It was as though I was in a dream. Things seemed to occur in slowly and quickly simultaneously. Jeremy came out of his room and noticed that I was reclining in the rocking chair.

“That’s my chair, you idiot teacher!” And he lunged toward me, knocking me to the floor. Then he proceeded to beat me with the rocking chair. My cries for mercy were left unanswered.

I later woke up in the hospital, with my head bandaged. I could see through some eye slits someone had cut. My head ached so much, and I wondered how long I had been unconscious.

Later that afternoon, a detective from the Haverston Township police department paid me a visit. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but I do need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.”

“What happened to me?” I asked.

“You were attacked and rendered unconscious by one of your students.”

“Where is Jeremy, by the way?”

“He’s been in jail for the past three months,” he replied.

“I’ve been out for three months??”

“Give or take a few days.”

Somehow, I had concluded that it all was an accident.


I approached the gate to Jake’s house. His mom had told me to go right in and ring the doorbell. As I walked up the steps, I tripped and had to reach for the railing to get back up. I rang the doorbell. Jake’s mom answered the door and invited me in.

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning toward the living room.

I found a comfortable-looking rocking chair and sat down.

“Jake,” his mother called, “your math teacher’s here.” She smiled at me with a somewhat uncomfortable smile.

“Where’s his father,” I asked.

“He’s… um… busy downstairs,” she replied rather hesitantly.

Then I saw Jake come downstairs. “Hey,” he said.

Then I saw another person come downstairs. He looked like someone I’d seen before. I started to sweat, and my head was throbbing terribly. “Teach,” Jake said,” I’d like you to meet my fraternal twin brother…”

As the young man walked into the light, I knew who it was. I could have almost vomited, I felt so sick.

“… Jeremy."