A Mother’s Just Deserts

The Good Teacher

In the morning hush before they descended, Judy practiced being kind. It didn’t come naturally. She focused on breathing and meditation and the positives the day would bring. Judy prided herself on not raising her voice or using sarcasm with her students, so she could always make the claim “I don’t speak to you disrespectfully, so please don’t answer me that way” without earning a snigger.

Which was why she found Connor’s eye-rolls and knowing glances so irksome. It was as though he understood perfectly that it was all a veneer. That there was something else hiding beneath her calm demeanour.

She was growing impatient with his precocious habits, until that Monday morning group where she overheard him tell the others “Well my mum said I’m a little bastard. She’s always saying that.” With a giggle, to mask the uncomfortable silence. And then Lucy, bless her heart, had moved the conversation along.

Judy thought of roots and of branches; of apples and trees.

On the morning Connor came to class limping, she decided to have a little chat with his mum, asking her by polite email to make a time after class the next day. She was, by design, out of sight when Leah arrived. “You little bastard” came the hiss “I had to miss my fucking shift for your shit”.