🏫Mrs B🏫

🏫Mrs B🏫

I scooch into class to see the teacher standing there with a large smirk across her face. She directs everyone to their seats then stands bolt upright at the front of the class. One girl mumbles “Yes food tech, it's the best”...

“OI! NO TALKING IN MY CLASS WHEN I WANT TO SPEAK!” she bellows.

My trying-to-be-happy expression breaks and causes a shiver down my spine. I freeze.

“MY NAME IS MRS B, AND IN THIS ROOM, THERE IS NO TALKING WHEN I'M TALKING OR WHEN THE ROOM IS SILENT!” Everyone wants to go home.

“GET YOUR INGREDIENTS, THEN MAKE THE YUM YUMS. YOU BETTER HURRY UP OR I WILL EAT YOUR FOOD!” She demands.

I look sideways to see Sophia’s face flushed tomato red. We all scurry to get our things. “POUR THE RAISINS IN!” she roars.

“But I don't like raisins,” one girl mumbles.

“DON’T QUESTION ME!” she says thunderously.

“INTERVAL! STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND GO EAT OUTSIDE!” she growls.

We all talk about her at break. When the bell rings, I notice an icy grin across her face, like she wants us to come in so she can yell at us some more. We do lots of paperwork after the break and all she says is “DO IT GOOD OR YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!”

At the end of the morning, we scramble out of the class like there is an earthquake shattering the walls, but it is just her stomping on the kitchen floor. Everyone sprints to the bus to get away. We hop on the bus and drive away. I take one last miserable glance before we get too far. I form a smile, then it turns into a laugh. It is just a reliever, because the real teacher is away. Yes! She will never be the food tech teacher for me again. I leave with a lucky smile.

By Yasmin🐈