Mrs.D entered the classroom, with a skip in her step and a faint amused smile playing on her lips. As usual, her clothes were especially flamboyant as if to portray her inexplicable eccentricity. She was a portly woman of about twenty with all the teacher like qualities suited for her profession, except one- Good judgement.
Mrs.D was our English teacher, and she called us all writers. Good or bad? That was up to us to decide. She incessantly praised those who deserved no real attention, but completely ignored the real writers of our class. Like me.
Today, she told us that she had just finished correcting our essays and asked us to come and collect them. She complemented each student on their 'Good handwriting', ' interesting use of words', and 'adorable message'. She smiled at each of them as she gave back the essays.
Then it was my turn. I knew I had written a brilliant essay and I was proud of it. However, Mrs. D wasn't impressed.
"Selena, " she said, the smile fading from her face. Her voice was cold, words carefully pronounced.
"It looks like you spent just ten minutes on your essay."
I nodded,"That's because I did," I said, then tentatively added, "Do you like it?"
Mrs. D locked her eyes onto mine giving me a hard, steely glare. I could see her face slowly turning a shade of deep red. I trembled in my chair.
What had I done?
"This is appalling!" she screamed at me holding up the tattered sheet of paper, I had done my homework on. "When are you going to understand that nothing comes without effort! You may consider yourself to be a writer, and you may think that you have a gift for writing, but you must work hard to fuel your talent."
Mrs. D tossed my essay on the ground and walked out. I blushed, knowing all eyes were on me.
When I finally left the classroom and went to the corridor, I found myself raging over the way that Mrs, D had mercilessly humiliated me. I cursed her in my head, thinking of all the things I would do to her. I had to teach the teacher a lesson