Things seemed to be going well for Ashley Knight. Her unique brand of discipline had produced marked improvement in her students, not just in her class, but in all of them. This in turn, had won her favor, and favors, from her boss. The class was doing so well, that she had no snacks to confiscate today, leaving her a bit peckish.
She had just set the class to read chapter 15 silently, while she grabbed 'healthy snack' at the vending machine. She grabbed a bag of pretzels, not the best snack, but at least that wasn't loaded down with sugar and grease. She seemed to be finally getting a grip on this teaching thing. The students were trained to fear her, and so they pre-emptively worked hard for her. They studied, did their homework, and she could even leave the class like this and expect them to keep their nose to the grindstone, knowing that there might be a pop quiz on this as soon as she got back.
Ashley was feeling pretty good about herself, and her discipline as she got back, took up a piece of chalk and started writing CREDIT and DEBIT on the board in big letters. These good feelings were washed away in a tsunami of anger as she felt something unexpectedly hit the back of her head. She turned and saw the paper airplane that did it on the floor. And it wasn't hard to see who threw it.
While most of the students we looking straight forward in alert terror, one was leaning back in her chair, had her feet up on the desk, her arms folded behind her head, and a great big grin plastered across her face. Jean Vandergriff the one persistent thorn in Ashley Knights expanding side. While the other students shaped up, she actually seemed to be getting worse, to the point where she now made up half of all the disciplinary actions Ashley handed out. And now she seemed to be openly mocking her. Ashley was too mad to even think of a proper punishment, so she fell back on her old standby.
"Vandergriff TEN LAPS, NOW!" She roared. Jean jumped up, and headed for the door without a hint of surprise or care.
"Sure thing, Coach." She said flippantly, as she left, leaving Knight to just vent her frustration by grinding the chalk into the board with extra force. Vandergriff never fit in. Ashley routinely overheard other teachers gossiping about her in the teacher's lounge. Every teacher had an Jean horror story. Rumor had it that family connections got her admitted to Buttercombe after being expelled from her last boarding school. Ashley expected it wouldn't be long for the same to happen here. Vandergriff's grades were atrocious. While virtually every student had improved since she started teaching, Vandergriff's work was if anything, worse than ever. It'd be a rare event for her to even fully complete a test she took before handing it in, and she was certain she filled out multiple choice tests without looking at the questions.
So the girl was too lazy to learn. Ashley honestly didn't give a shit. But she would NOT tolerate this kind of behavior in HER classroom. The other teachers here might be pushovers, but SHE wasn't. She was going to break this girl, no matter what it took. Her brain finally got to stewing on all the demeaning punishments she'd force the girl through when the door swung open and a cheery voice with a slight English accent called out "I'm back!"
Ashley's piece of chalk exploded into dust as her anger peaked. This girl was challenging her AGAIN. There was no way this girl had done 10 laps. By the looks of her she got sweaty, had enough, and turned back. Her disgusting lack of discipline and effort not only torpedoes her grades, but now she was acting like she was immune to punishment.
"Bullshit, Vandergriff! I'm giving you one chance to go back and do ten laps FOR REAL this time."
This finally seemed to break Jean's good cheer.
"Uh...I just did ten laps. If you want me to do ten more, say so, but I did ten laps." Jean insisted.
"Bullshit." Ashley repeated, sputtering with rage. "You think you can get away with lying to me Vandergriff? You're coming with me to the security office, Right now! Everyone else, reread chapter 15, and you better have it straight now this time!"
Ashley hobbled out of the class while Jean followed behind her, rolling her eyes at the stream of muttering and explitives Coach Knight treated her to all the way to the office.
****
"You thought I wouldn't really check the security tapes, didn't you!" Ashley said vindictively, loading the VHS tape from the school's antiquated security system onto a VCR. Jean seemed to be getting legitimately annoyed and angry about this herself.
"Look, why do we have to do this, why don't I just go and run another ten laps?"
"Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easily this time Vandergriff, I don't stand for being lied to." Ashley insisted, finding the relevant time mark and starting the tape. As she watched the tape though, her expression turned from anger, to confusion, to intrigue. The girl really did ten laps. She backed the tape up and pulled out her stopwatch without saying a word.
It wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all. It didn't approach Ashley's old times, but considering the girl wasn't wearing proper running clothes, was running in a hallway instead of a track, and hadn't actually undergone any sort of training for track....Ashley took in Vandergriff again. She was one of the skinniest students she had in class. Which while rare wasn't unheard of in Buttercombe. But most of the lighter students didn't get any more exercise than their heavyset peers. They were 'skinnyfat'. But this girl actually had some muscle tone.
Tired of the silence (Jean hated silence), she vented. "Can I go for the next ten, now?"
The lightbulb finally went on over Ashley's head. "You did that just to run laps." She said, her anger simmering down into a mixture of confusion and interest.
"Gee, coach" Jean said holding her hands out like the platforms on a scale and weighing her options "Read a textbook on money, go for a run. Oooh, tough fucking decision. Why does everyone here regard this as a punishment?"
"You have gym class, if you want to run, Vandergriff" Ashley grunted. This made Jean explode with pent up frustration.
"Gym class! If you can call it that! All Ms. Farron seem to be trying to teach me to do is sit still there. Jean, don't slide tackle, the other girls might trip. Jean try not to hit the ball so far, the other girls will take forever to chase it down. Jean stop acing it, the other girls want to play tennis too. It's a fucking madhouse! I can't take it anymore."
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