Post by Elyzibeth Alexander on Feb 3, 2009 23:18:48 GMT -8
o p e n
Elyzibeth Alexander had gotten the better end of the deal. Unless she was summoned to other floors to substitute watch over or someone else's class or to speak with one of her colleagues, very rarely did she have to leave the ground floor. The office was there. The cafeteria was there. Her classroom was there. It was perfect. Less walking for her to do on a regular daily basis and less energy she had to waste trying to get from one place to another. That was probably good since she wasn't exactly young anymore. After a certain age, things just started to deteriorate, like your health. While Ely was still as healthy as a horse, she still knew that she should be cautious in her actions. She did not want to walk up and down stairs all day, nor did she want to run around the school like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get to her classes on time. That would have been bad, especially if she happened to be wearing heels one day.[/blockquote]
The sixty-year-old teacher tried to dress as professionally as possible, but sometimes she just could not stand trying to wear suits or even dress slacks everyday. It got old after a while, and people started to wonder why she was so professional. Here you had these young teachers dressing in casual clothes, yet she was wearing suits and dress slacks. Most admired her for such professionalism, but many thought her crazy to dress that way each and every day she came to work. She had learned during her thirty-some years of teaching that impressions were important. You never knew who you would see. Sometimes you only saw the usual people, students and other teachers. But sometimes people would come in to inspect the school or see how things were going, people like the superintendent. So she always tried to be prepared for things that were usually unexpected.
Today was one of her "lazy" days. She had gotten up that morning and groaned when she looked at the clock. She enjoyed coming to the school each and every day to teach her students, but there were days where she felt like she just needed a break from everything. But she couldn't just take time off anytime she wanted. It wasn't that simple. So, to make her day more bearable, she put on a pair of sports casual pants - black and stretchy but formfitting - along with a deep brown shirt, one that molded to her upper body but showed nothing. It had a high neck on it, which was just the way Ely liked it. She had abandoned wearing her heels that morning and put on a pair of flats; it was obvious that they were a few years old since the leather was really starting to look worn. But they were in good shape and comfortable, which was the main reason why she had worn them. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail; shorter strands of hair at the front were hanging loosely at the sides of her face but out of the way. She was comfortable and looked presentable. And that was all she cared about.
She had been on her feet almost all day, like every other day at the school. Teaching all four of her choir classes had her running around, checking papers and assisting people in techniques. Her planning periods seemed shorter than they actually were, probably because her husband and children were continually calling or texting her phone. She had eventually cut it off to avoid distraction, but she found that it did not work. Cutting her phone off made her feel like a bad person. She always had to have it on vibrate if nothing else. It was that inner lying self-conscious telling her that something could happen at any moment of the day and that she would need to leave her phone on, in case of an emergency.
Lunch had finally come, and there was Ely sitting at her usual table. There was a table in the corner, reserved specially for staff members who chose to eat in the noisy cafeteria. Most of the teachers avoided going in there, simply because they already had a headache and did not want to worsen it. That was understandable, but it usually left poor Ely sitting alone. Most of the other teachers roamed around and ate during one of their free periods; others would leave and do whatever it was they needed to do. So, as usual, Ely was sitting alone at the table in the corner, eating her usual lunch.
She did not bring the same thing for lunch everyday, but it was similar some ways. She had leftovers from the night before when her husband cooked dinner or when they had gone out to eat. Along with the leftovers, she would have a bottle of water, a piece of fruit, and a granola bar. She brought remotely the same thing each day; it was routine for her. Occasionally she would buy something from the school, but that was rare. She preferred the stuff she brought from home. It was much more healthy and far better tasting in her opinion.
As the woman sat there eating her food - today's choice was chicken alfredo - her phone vibrated a bit loudly against the table. She blinked a few times form behind her glasses and read the name of the incoming call. Giselle, she thought with a shake of her head. She flipped the phone open and held it to her ear.
"Hello?…I'm eating lunch…At school, where else would I be?…Yes, I know it's noisy…You want me to what?…Of course I can pick Bethany up from her dance lessons…Meet you at the Starbucks? Okay…I already told you I would take the kids this weekend…Yes, Giselle…Okay…Sweetheart…Sweeeeeetheaaaart…I need to eat my lunch…Yes…Yes…No…Okay…I will see you later…Alright…Okay….Love you, too…Bye-bye."
Ely closed her phone and set it back on the table. She hated when Giselle, her oldest daughter called, because the thirty-four-year-old never wanted to stop talking. She always tried to rant and rave about whatever was on her mind, and she spoke really fast, almost too fast for even Ely to keep up with her. She always checked everything five times. Ely had promised she would watch the three children, her grandchildren, that weekend. She had promised that about five times already, and it was only Wednesday. Sometimes Giselle was annoying, but that was probably a good thing. She double-checked herself and was cautious. Ely had taught her well.
With a sigh, the choir teacher removed her bottle of water from her lunchbox and broke the seal on it. She sipped from it lightly and placed the top back on it in case she clumsily knocked the bottle over when reaching for something, which had happened to her twice the previous year and within in a short period of time. The woman relaxed against the seat and continued to eat her chicken alfredo, watching the students as they got their lunches and snacks and sat down with their friends at tables all around the room. She smiled faintly watching the students, wondering what it was like to be a teenager in times like these when cell phones existed and texting was "unlimited." She knew what it was like to be an old woman with these things, but she wanted to know what it was like being a teenager. Would it be any different? Maybe so…then she wouldn't feel like she had arthritis from texting so much. Of course, Ely didn't really text. She would on occasion, but she didn't have the patience to sit there and try to type out full text messages. She only did it when she needed to quietly relay a message to someone or when she was trying to tell someone something without having to talk - these came in handy with Giselle, even though her daughter texted her a thousand times afterwards. Oh well, what was she to do?
