A Lesson to be Learned - Chapter 2
The class all seems to give a collective look around and I notice most of the girls in the front row move to sit up straighter in their seats, as if to show Mr. Iero they’re paying full attention to him.
Looks like I’m not alone in thinking he’s attractive. Mr. Stump backs out of the door and shuts it behind him. The boys in the back row start whispering and soon the whole class is talking in a quiet murmur that seems to be escalating.
“Alright,” Mr. Iero says, calling everyone back to silence again. “As I understand, you’ve been reading A Catcher in the Rye, correct?” The class gives a collective affirmative response and he smiles again. “Good, that happens to be one of my favorite books.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling at that. I love A Catcher in the Rye, too. Shut up, don’t say or do anything stupid.
“Now,” Mr. Iero says, wandering over to the desk and sitting down on the top, letting his legs swing like a small child. He has on black Converse and I try not to let out a laugh. He’s not very mature compared to most of the kids in this class. “Who can give me a summary of Holden?”
A girl in the front row instantly lets her hand shoot up and Mr. Iero looks a little taken aback by her enthusiasm, but gestures to her anyway to go ahead.
“I’m Lisa, by the way,” the girl says, a flirtatious smile so heavy in her voice that I roll my eyes. “Personally, I think Caulfield is, well, an idiot. He just blames everything on everyone around him and he’s whiney. I think he’s the type of person who takes things too literally.”
Mr. Iero smiles, but shakes his head.
“Not quite, Lisa,” he turns his attention to the rest of the class. “Anyone else?”
“He’s retarded!” Pete calls from the back, eliciting laughter from the rest of his gang of imbeciles.
Mr. Iero bites his lip a bit, almost as if he’s searching for what to say now. Before I know what’s happening, the words are spilling out of my mouth.
“He’s depressed,” my own not only surprises me, but everyone else in the class room. The back room gets quiet and I feel everyone’s eyes on me, including Mr. Iero’s. Fuck.
“And your name is?” Mr. Iero asks, giving me a soft smile and I have to control myself to keep from melting into a puddle on the floor.
“G-gerard,” I stutter out. I never spoke out in classes, and this is the perfect example of why. I hated attention on me. When attention was directed at me, I froze and turned into a stuttering mess.
“Well, Gerard, why do you think he’s depressed?” Mr. Iero leans back a little and folds his arms across his chest, the small smile still in place on his perfect face.
“Uh, well first there are the actual physiological symptoms throughout the entire book,” I say, slowly gaining a little more confidence. “He has fainting spells, headaches, and even experiences nausea. Then there are the reasons why he could get depressed. He’s failed out of schools left and right. He’s always having violent outbursts and he screams more than most teenagers do. If you read closely, you can tell just how dark his mind is from his whole outlook on the world. I mean, honestly, I can relate to the kid. Depression makes you feel like you’re drowning and everyone around you is still breathing. Sometimes you have to scream just to get people to notice you. He’s just depressed and wants someone to help.”
I finish with a shrug and notice how Mr. Iero’s smile has grown wider and he’s nodding his head slowly.
“Exactly,” he says, clapping his hands together and jumping off the desk to his feet. “Now, I know it’s my first day, but I’m going to give you guys an assignment. I want you to write me a paper, no specifications on length or anything, but I want you to compare yourself to Holden Caulfield. What characteristics do you see in both yourself and Holden? How can you relate to him? Due Friday, alright?”
The class sighs but I can’t even explain how excited I am for this assignment. I’ve always been able to identify to Caulfield. He’s been my favorite character since I first read A Catcher in the Rye. I have always been good at writing for English classes, call it my special gift, but this is going to be my best work yet.
The bell rings and everyone moves to get out of the class as quickly as possible, as if Mr. Iero is going to give us another assignment if we dawdle around. I busy myself with making sure I have my pencil and books to avoid the massive crowd at the door before finally standing up and noticing I’m the only one left in the room besides Mr. Iero.
I make my way to the door, hoping he won’t notice, but of course because I have the luck of a black cat under a ladder, he looks up and gives me another smile.
“Gerard, right?” He asks, walking closer to me as I withhold from taking a step back away from him as I nod. “Your response about Caulfield was great. You must be one of the few students who have actually read Catcher instead of looking it up on SparkNotes or something.” He laughs and I let out a nervous, breathy chuckle.
“Yeah, well, it’s one of my favorite books. It, uh, it always has been.” I shrug and Mr. Iero gives me another smile.
“Mine, too. I’ve always been able to relate to Holden better than any other literary character, I think.” At that I have to actually smile back at him and nod enthusiastically.
“Same,” I say, laughing nervously again. “Plus, Salinger is just a really great writer. I think he captured Holden’s, like, inner struggle really well, you know?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, his smile sending waves of butterflies through my stomach. Suddenly I’m a 12 year old girl flirting with her crush. “What other books are you interested in?”
“Uh, well, not the usual ones that everyone is. I like the darker stories, I mean, Salinger isn’t extremely dark, but Caulfield is. Uh, I really like Shakespeare because he wasn’t afraid to kill off everyone, I guess. Stephen King is a given, obviously, uh…” I trail off, realizing I’m rambling but Mr. Iero just smiles more, cocking his head to the side a little.
“Ah, I love Shakespeare and King, as well. What do you think of J. R. R. Tolkien?”
“He’s okay,” I hedge, not wanting to sound overly excited because I’m kind of a fanatic when it comes to The Lord of the Rings. “I like his use of exact detail. He’s great at getting explaining exactly how something should look or sound or feel.”
“Yes!” Mr. Iero exclaims, making me jump back a little in shock. “His use of detail is probably my favorite part of the writing outside of the storyline. It’s perfect.”
He’s getting excited and I have to smile at how adorable it is to watch him get so worked up over something. Listening to someone discuss something they’re passionate about is one of my favorite things. The way their eyes light up and they express themselves with their hands is just, well, heartwarming.
“Have you ever read anything by Margaret Atwood?” Mr. Iero asks as he walks over towards a bookshelf against the wall, ripping me from my thoughts.
“Uh, not that I can think of…” I’ve read a lot of books, and sometimes it’s hard for me to keep authors straight unless the book is a favorite or they’ve written a lot of things I’ve come across. I watch as he scans his eyes through the various works of literature before finally making a small noise of recognition and reaching up on his tip-toes to snag a book off the top shelf. I bite my tongue to keep from awing at how adorable his lack of height is.
“Here,” he says, handing me an old, red book. The letters across the front identify it as being titled The Handmaid’s Tale and I furrow my eyebrows together. I’ve never even heard of this book. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard of the author either. “It’s really good, I promise.”
He holds his hands up mock-surrender and I force out a laugh.
“Just,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “Read it, and tell me what you think, alright? I just have a feeling you’ll like it. It’s dark, but it’s sort of weird, too. It’s a lot like 1984.”
My face must light up at that because he gives me another smile. I loved reading 1984. The dystopia factor was just unfathomable to me, and it intrigued me.
“Yeah, um, well, thanks, I will.” I cough and chance a look at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I’m late for art.” I blurt out the sentence without thinking and instantly clamp my mouth shut.
“I can write you a pass,” Mr. Iero laughs, and I notice how the skin around his eyes crinkles up when he smiles. He walks over to his desk and motions for me to follow. I awkwardly stand there as he extracts a pad of paper from the drawer and scrawls across it quickly before detaching it and handing it to me with another eye-crinkling smile. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks,” I breathe out, the words catching in my throat a little. “Well, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“See ya, Gerard,” Mr. Iero gives me one last smile before turning back to his desk, leaving me all but running towards the door.
Calm down, Gerard, calm down. He’s a teacher and that’s all he’ll ever be. A teacher. Just a teacher… A really hot teacher though… No, stop.
I jog down the hall towards my locker and can’t help but think how I don’t think I’ve ever found a teacher this attractive before. I mean, sure there were the teachers I could look at and know they were good looking, but Mr. Iero, he’s different. He’s… gorgeous. And perfect, as far as I can tell. Shit, this is not good.
I round the corner of the hall almost slamming into Mr. Stump.
“Whoa, Gerard, slow down there,” he says, throwing his hand out onto my shoulder to steady both of us before we can tumble to the ground. “Shouldn’t you be in art class with Mr. Walker right now?”
“Yeah, I’m, uh, on my way,” I hold out the pass for his inspection. “Me and Mr. Iero were talking and I forgot about the time, sorry.”
“Oh, okay,” Mr. Stump nods, clearly satisfied that I wasn’t skipping class to smoke in the bathroom like most of the guys from my grade. “What do you think of Mr. Iero? Think he’ll be a good fit for the job?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. He really seems to know what he’s talking about, I guess.”
I honestly don’t know what to say. Yeah, he’s a great teacher and he’s probably great in bed as well. No, Gerard, stop.
“Good,” Mr. Stump says, nodding and looking proud of himself. “Well, you better get on to class before you miss the entire lesson.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, before speeding past him, bypassing my locker and going directly to the art corridor. I scurry down the hall and skid to a stop outside my classroom, walking in and noticing I’m over half an hour late. Shit.
I hand the pass to Mr. Walker, who smiles at me and gestures for me to get on with working before returning to the canvas he’s painting a pack of wolves onto. I sigh gratefully for the lack of lecture that most teachers would have given me. I move to walk away but Mr. Walker’s voice calls after me.
“Gerard?” I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh before turning around to face him. He’s still focused on his canvas but I can tell he knows he has my attention. “Make sure you have your design for the seminar done by next week. I wanna make sure it’s perfect. Especially with the scouts who are coming down.”
He looks up and gives me a smile, small bits of blue paint splattered in his brown beard and I nod, giving him a ensuring smile.
“I will, Mr. Walker. I’m almost finished with it, actually.”
His smile widens and I turn back around maneuvering my way through the tables and find a secluded seat in the back near the light-up tracing tables. Tossing my notebook and copies of Catcher and The Handmaid’s Tale down on it, I walk towards the counter and grab a piece of paper and a package of charcoal pencils before finally going back to the desk and sitting down. Now I know what I’m going to draw, and it’s all thanks to the very attractive -and unattainable- Mr. Iero.
Chapter 3