A Grandfather's Touch

佚名 / Anonymous

What day is it today？ Is it Tuesday or Thursday？ This thought raced through her mind as she sat back with her students going over the lesson that never seemed to end. Didn’t I just do this yesterday？ Or was it a year ago？ Hell， everything seemed to jumble together anymore. “Miss Smith， can I go to the bathroom？” Jorge asked， as he proceeded to jump from one foot to another， holding himself. How many times have I heard this？ She wondered as she abruptly said “Yes” and watched as he raced out of the room.

Sitting at the table she gazed at her students while thinking of what she would do after work. Maybe I’ll go to the gym or stop at the market for something to eat tonight. Mechanically she continued with her lesson on the short letter “a” with her students. “The letter ‘a(chǎn)’ makes what sound？” “a， a， a，” the students sang together going through the empty motions. The clock dragged away the minutes teasing her with the tediousness of the day.

Won’t it end？ She thought as the phone rang out its morse code for her room. Sighing she stood up and walked through the maze of students desks to get to the phone. Picking up the receiver the other voice seemed a hundred miles away. Oh， how I wish I were anywhere but here. Her mind wandered to the hot exotic beach of Cabo， Mexico， where she had spent her last summer break. She still remembered the cool breezes that caressed her skin as she lay on the gritty sand.

“Miss Smith， did you hear me？” the secretary annoyingly asked her. “Oh， sorry. What did you say？” “Can you send Carla to the office？” the secretary impatiently asked. “Oh， of course，” she replied as she hung up the phone. She turned from the phone and yelled out Carla’s name. Carla， who was one of the many who always seemed so needy that were in her class this year. Carla looked up from her desk， her hair hanging like a matted displaced doll. Her face was lined with dirt that gave her the appearance of one of those munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. “You need to go to the office，” she said while Carla slowly rose from her desk. “Why do I have to go？” whined Carla. “It’s between you and the office—just go up，” she hastily turned her back as Carla walked out of the room. Like having free school uniforms is the answer. It would be nice if just once someone called saying something nice or thanking me for all the endless crap I have to deal with. With a sigh she walked back to her other students who were clustered at the back table patiently waiting her return.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into one long endless repetition. Finally the bell rang as a relief. As she led her students out the door they walked behind her as baby chicks returning to their fold. She noticed that their mother hens clucked to them behind the iron gate. As she proceeded to walk down the corridor， the air， which rose with the musical tingle of Spanish coloring everything that touched it， greeted her. She watched with a touch of envy as the children left her to return to those homes that probably were filled with laughter and warmth while she would once again return to the same endless march of boredom.