Big Girl (2010) (11 page)

She helped them dissect the short story, and showed them why it worked. It was a good story, and they seemed to enjoy it, they paid closer attention to her this time, and she felt better about the class. Even Becki had contributed some remarks about the story. And Victoria asked them to write a short story as their assignment. Mike stopped at her desk on the way out, and in a gruff voice he asked whether, if he did the assignment he'd missed, she'd drop the F for his failure to write it.

"Not this time, Mike," she said pleasantly, feeling like a monster, but she remembered Helen's warning on Friday not to let them get away with anything. She had to make an example of Mike and the other boy who hadn't bothered to do the first assignment.

"That sucks!" he said loudly as he strode out of the room and slammed the door on the way out. Victoria looked undisturbed, and got ready for the second class, which started a few minutes later.

They were tougher than the first group. And there was a girl in the class who was determined to take Victoria on and humiliate her. She made several comments about women who were overweight before Victoria started talking. She pretended not to have heard the girl's remarks. Her name was Sally Fritz. She had dark red hair and freckles, and a tattoo of a star on the back of one hand.

"Where did you go to school anyway?" she asked Victoria rudely as she started to teach the class. She had totally interrupted what Victoria was saying.

"Northwestern. Are you thinking of applying?"

"Hell, no," Sally said loudly. "It's too cold there."

"Yes, it is, but I loved it. It's a good school, once you get used to the weather."

"I'm applying to California and Texas."

Victoria nodded. "I'm from L.A. There are some terrific schools in California," she said pleasantly.

"My brother went to Stanford," Sally volunteered as though they weren't in class, and she didn't care if they were. She was very brash. Victoria went on with the class then, and shared the same short story with them that she had gone over with the first class that morning. This group was livelier and more critical of the piece, which made for some interesting discussions around the room, and they got into it, in spite of their intention of torturing her and being difficult. She swept them all into the analysis of the story and a lively exchange, and some of them were still talking about it when they left the room, and Victoria looked pleased. She didn't mind being challenged by her students, or even argued with if they had valid points. The goal of her teaching was to make them question what they knew and thought they believed in. The short story she had exposed them to had done that. It had been a victory for her. And she stopped in to see Helen on her way to the teachers' lounge to correct papers.

"Thanks for the tip the other day," she said shyly. "It helped."

"To kick their asses?"

Victoria laughed in answer. "I don't think I did that. But I gave two F's in my first class for failure to hand in the assignment." It was a lot tougher than she thought she would be in the second week of school.

"That's a start." Helen grinned at her. "I'm proud of you. It'll wake up the others."

"I think it did. And I'm confiscating iPods and BlackBerrys whenever I see them."

"They hate that," Helen confirmed. "They'd much rather send text messages to their friends than listen to you, or me, for that matter." The two women laughed. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

"Nice enough. I went to the park on Saturday, and corrected papers on Sunday." And ate two pints of ice cream, pizza, and an entire bag of cookies. But she didn't say it. She knew it was a measure of how discouraged she was. She always ate more when she was unhappy, even though she promised herself she wouldn't. She could see an imminent return to her size fourteen and sixteen wardrobe in her future. She had brought all four sizes with her. She wanted to avoid winding up a sixteen, which could easily happen at the rate she was eating. She knew she had to start dieting again. It was a constant merry-go-round she could never seem to get off. With no friends, no boyfriend, and no social life, feeling unsure of herself in her job, she was at high risk for putting on weight in New York, despite her good resolutions not to. They never lasted. At the first sign of a crisis, she dove into a pint of ice cream, a bag of cookies, or a pizza. And she had done all three that weekend, which had set off an alarm in her head to be careful before it got out of hand.

Helen could sense that she was lonely, and she seemed very young and innocent to her, and like a nice girl. "Maybe we can go to a movie next weekend. Or a concert in the park," she offered.

"I'd like that," Victoria said, looking happy. She felt like the new kid on the block, and she was. And she was the youngest teacher in the school. Helen was twice her age, but she liked Victoria. She thought she was bright, and Helen could tell she was trying, and was dedicated to teaching. She was naive, but Helen thought she would learn the ropes in time. It was challenging for everyone in the beginning, especially teaching older kids. High school students were the toughest. But Victoria looked like she could handle it if she kept the kids in control. "Are you going to the lounge?" she asked Helen hopefully.

"I've got another class. I'll catch you later." Victoria nodded, and walked down the hall to the lounge. It was deserted. Everyone had gone to lunch, and she was trying not to. She had brought an apple in her briefcase and had vowed to be good. She sat munching it as she read the papers. And once again, they were surprisingly good. She had some very bright students. She just hoped she was bright enough to teach them and hold their interest for the entire year. She was feeling very unsure of herself. Now that she was faced with a classroom full of real people, this was much harder than she had anticipated, and it was going to take more than just discipline to keep them in line. Helen had given her some helpful hints, and Carla Bernini had set up the syllabus before going on maternity leave, but Victoria knew that she had to infuse her classes with life and excitement in order to keep the kids hooked. And she was scared to death that she wasn't good enough to do it and would fail. She wanted to be good at it more than anything. She didn't care how little the job paid, this was her vocation, and she wanted to be a great teacher, the kind kids remembered for years. She had no idea if she could do it, but she was trying her best. And this was only the beginning. The school year had just started.

For the next two weeks, Victoria fought to keep her students' attention. She confiscated cell phones and BlackBerrys, she gave them tough assignments, and one day when her sophomore class was too restless, she took them for a walk around the neighborhood, and made them write about it. She tried to come up with every creative idea she could, and to get to know every one of her students in all four classes, and she began to get the feeling after two months that some of them liked her. She racked her brain on the weekends searching for ideas for them, new books to read, and new projects. And sometimes she surprised them with unexpected quizzes and assignments. There was nothing dull about her classes. And by late November, she felt like she was beginning to get somewhere with them and win their respect. Not all of her students liked her, but at least they were paying attention and responding to her. By the time she got on the plane to go home for the Thanksgiving holiday, she had a feeling of accomplishment, until she saw her father. He looked at her with surprise when he met her at the airport with her mother and Grace, who hurled herself into Victoria's arms with glee, as her big sister kissed her.

"Wow! The ice cream must be good in New York," he commented, grinning broadly, and her mother looked pained, not at his comment but at Victoria's appearance. She had gained back everything she lost, while correcting papers at night and on weekends and working on her classes. She had been living on Chinese takeout, and double chocolate milk shakes. The diet she kept meaning to start just hadn't happened. Her whole focus had been on her classes and her students and not on herself. And she kept eating all the wrong foods to give herself energy, comfort, and strength.

"I guess so, Dad," Victoria said vaguely.

"Why don't you steam fish and vegetables, dear?" her mother said. Victoria marveled that after not seeing her for almost three months, her weight was all they could think about. Gracie just looked at her and beamed. She didn't care what size Victoria was, she just loved her. The two sisters walked off arm in arm toward the baggage claim, happy to be back together.

On Thanksgiving day, Victoria helped her mother cook the turkey, and she enjoyed the day and the meal with them, miraculously without negative comments from her father. The weather was balmy and warm, and they sat in the backyard afterward, and her mother asked her about her teaching.

"Do you like it?" She was still puzzled why her daughter would want to be a teacher.

"I love it." She grinned at her sister then. "And my sophomore students are horrible. They're all little monsters like you. I confiscate their iPods all the time, so they'll listen to me."

"Why don't you make them write lyrics?" Gracie suggested as her older sister looked at her in amazement. "That's what my teacher did, and we loved it."

"That's brilliant!" Victoria could hardly wait to try it on them. She had been planning to have her juniors and seniors write poetry in the weeks before Christmas. But lyrics for the sophomores was a great idea. "Thank you, Gracie."

"Just ask me about the sophomores," she said proudly, since she was one herself.

Her father managed to stay off the subject of her weight for the rest of the visit, and her mother discreetly said that she should go to Overeaters Anonymous, which really hurt Victoria's feelings, but other than that, it was a warm, comfortable weekend, especially with Gracie. And they all drove her back to the airport on Sunday. She was planning to come back in four weeks to spend Christmas with them, so this time their goodbyes weren't tearful. She was going to spend the whole vacation with them, since they had two weeks off school. And on the plane on the way back to New York, she thought again about Gracie's suggestion to have the sophomores write lyrics.

She presented the idea to her sophomore class on Wednesday morning, and they looked ecstatic. It was something they could really wrap their minds around, and for once they looked enthusiastic about an assignment. Her juniors and seniors were less thrilled with the poetry they had to write, and she was starting to help some of them with their essays for their college applications. She had her hands full.

The lyrics the sophomores wrote for her were terrific. One boy brought a guitar in, and they tried to put music to some of his words. The assignment was a huge success, and they asked if they could extend the project until Christmas vacation, and she agreed. And she gave most of them excellent grades for what they did. She had never given so many As. And the poetry assignments were surprisingly good too. By Christmas vacation, Victoria felt as though she had won their confidence, and all of them were behaving better in her classroom. Helen had noticed it too. The students looked happy and enthusiastic now when they left her room.

"What did you do to them? Give them drugs?"

"I took my fifteen-year-old sister's suggestion. I've had the sophomores writing lyrics," Victoria said proudly, and Helen was impressed by her creativity.

"That's pure genius. I wish I could do that in my class."

"I stole the idea from my sister's teacher. But it worked. And the older kids have been writing poetry. A few of them really have talent."

"So do you," Helen said with a look of admiration. "You're a damn good teacher. I hope you know that. And I'm happy that you're learning to control the class. It's better for them, and you. Even at their age, they need boundaries, discipline, and structure."

"I've been working on it," Victoria said honestly, "but sometimes I think I really screw up. There's a lot more creativity to teaching than I originally thought."

"We all screw up," Helen said candidly. "That doesn't make you a bad teacher. You keep trying and you find what works till you win them over. That's the best you can do."

"I love what I'm doing," she said happily, "even if they drive me crazy sometimes. But they don't seem as cocky lately. One of the kids even wants to go to Northwestern because I said I loved the school." Helen was smiling at her as she listened. She could see Victoria's passion for her profession in her eyes, and it warmed Helen's heart.

"I hope Eric is smart enough to hire you permanently after Carla comes back. He'll be crazy if he loses you," Helen said warmly.

"I'm just grateful to be here. We'll see what happens about next year." She knew that contracts would be offered in March and April, and she didn't know if they'd have an opening for her. She hoped so, but nothing was sure. For now, it was working, for her and the kids and the school. Eric Walker, the headmaster, had been hearing good things about her from the students. And two of the parents had commented that they liked her assignments. She really inspired the kids, and when necessary she pushed them. She thought outside the box, and wasn't afraid to try new things. She was exactly the kind of teacher they wanted.

And she had stopped eating quite as voraciously after Thanksgiving. Her father's comment, and her mother's suggesting Overeaters Anonymous, had slowed her down a little. She hadn't started any crazy new diets yet, and she was planning to do that over Christmas. She had thought about going to Weight Watchers, but she told herself she didn't have time. But for now she had eased up on the ice cream and pizza. And she was buying salads and cooked chicken breasts to eat in the kitchen with the others when she got home, and she made sure she had fruit for an afternoon snack. She still hadn't developed a social life, other than the occasional movie date with Helen, but she enjoyed her roommates. She saw more of Harlan than anyone, because Bill was always with Julie, and Bunny had been going to Boston almost every weekend to be with her boyfriend. She was thinking of moving to be with him. But Harlan was around almost as much as she was. He was single and unattached too. And he worked as hard as she did. When he came home at night, he was exhausted and happy to crash in front of the TV in his room, and meet her for a snack in the kitchen.