Teaching Lessons

“If I only knew then, what I know now.”

That is a phrase I have heard bellowed by a man going through a mid-life crisis and is trying to live vicariously through his kid. I heard a woman say she wishes she had gone to the dance with the quiet, smart kid in school instead of the loud jock. The quiet, smart kid ended up being a handsome and successful man with a wonderful family. Her jock ended up being the loud, mid-life, vicarious, sloppy, narcissistic, and cheating man she married.

I, however, knew then what I know now. I was always observant, quiet, a good listener, a good writer, and a very horny teenager.

When I started my junior year of high school, I had three goals in mind. Pass with all A’s, score high on my aptitude tests, and encounter my first kiss.

I was seventeen years old when I was a junior. Socially shy would probably be the best way to describe me. I was not awkward shy where girls would look at me disdainfully, shake their heads, then walk away. I was the type of shy that didn’t think girls were interested in me because I was not a popular jock. So, I stayed quiet and watched the girls pass by.

A few times, I felt like some of my female friends could have been interested in me, but I had a difficult time reading girls and they would look to others for companionship. My friend zone cone was far-reaching, let me tell you.

The first day of my junior year was filled with the same first-day speeches by the teachers, the same girls hugging in the hallways saying, “I haven’t seen you all summer!”, and the same squeaking sound of new tennis shoes on the freshly waxed school floor.

It was a comfortable beginning to the school year. No big surprises and no new kids moving in, other than the foreign exchange student from Australia. He was already a big hit with the girls. Long blonde hair, accent, and a tan. Yup, many of the girls drooled over him and I was told he did more than drool over a lot of them.

At the end of the first school day, I walked by the drama classroom. Mrs. Hymes, the drama teacher, was standing outside of the classroom door and greeted me as I walked down the hall.

“Hi, John. Did you have a good summer,” she asked?

I stopped and leaned against the wall to allow the kids that rode the bus to pass by unhindered.

“I did. And you,” I replied?

I wanted to say, “Oh, Mr. Hymes got busy with you over the summer didn’t he?”

But, I smiled and acted like I didn’t notice her impregnated tummy showing everyone in the school she did the dirty.

“My husband and I went on a second honeymoon and had a blast. After that, we hung around the house and worked on various projects.”

I never thought about acting, nor did I think I could be a good actor. However, I felt like I should have won some type of award with how well I was suppressing a smile and refraining from spewing the naughty thoughts I was thinking.

“Guess what,” she asked suddenly?

“I am a terrible guesser, why don’t you just tell me,” I said.

“We are expecting a baby,” she said excitedly!

“Congratulations,” I exclaimed!

I stepped away from the wall and acted like I noticed her baby belly for the first time.

“When are you due,” I asked?

“January. I will take the second semester off and stay home with the baby,” she said with a large grin on her face.

“Congratulations again,” I said as I gave her a one-arm, side hug.

Back then, it was not deemed inappropriate for a teacher and student to give one another a quick hug in the hallway. Even when the student may have been thinking about what she did in order to get pregnant.

I liked Mrs. Hymes. She was the only teacher I allowed to read my attempts at scribing my thoughts and writing short stories. She would give me constructive criticism and didn’t judge me when I tried to write about something I knew nothing about.

For example, I attempted to write a short sonnet about kissing my love and her understanding of all of my feelings without me saying a single word. In the sonnet, she knew my feelings after she received my kisses.

Mrs. Hymes looked at my writing, then with a gentle smile, she told me to pull up a chair and have a seat. She proceeded to tell me that many things can be felt and understood through kissing, jumping in with, “my tongue flicking into the mouth of my love”, would probably not convey passion and love. She proceeded to tell me about a gentle peck on the lips, ear, cheek, neck, or even the hand would begin the tale of love without words.

“If your partner responds in a positive way, then other kissing styles could be implemented,” she told me.

I didn’t have the hots for Mrs. Hymes, but, from that point forward I appreciated and was attracted to who she was. She was real, honest, and sincere with her criticism. I would be sad when I walked down the hallway after school and did not see her outside her door. But, I was happy she was going to be a mommy.

****

The last day of the first semester arrived and I made sure I stopped by the drama room to give Mrs. Hymes one last hug. She said she was ready to get that kid out of her, and couldn’t wait to be able to see her feet again. We hugged and I told her I would miss seeing her next semester.

“You can still stop by the room if you want and say hi to the new teacher,” she said.

“Why would I want to do that,” I said jokingly, “No one tolerates me and my writings like you.”

She laughed and said, “Her name is Ms. Lane. She just graduated from college and will be replacing me while I am out on maternity leave. I was granted this next semester and possibly the next school year too. She enjoys creative writing and I think she would love to read some of your thoughts.”

I agreed to stop by, introduce myself, and be nice.

“But don’t expect me to share my writings with her,” I said, “I only trust you with them.”

“Thank you, John,” she said as she hugged me, “That means a lot. But, give her a chance. She may give you constructive criticism too.”

Winter break ended and the first day of the new semester began. More, teacher speeches, hugging girls, and new tennis shoe squeaks filled the hall as everyone began their sprint to the end of the school year.

As promised, I decided to stop by the drama room at the end of the day. I had no idea what Ms. Lane looked like or if she accepted the job as a temporary replacement for Mrs. Hymes.

I could see a group of students standing in the hallway outside of the drama room as I approached. Either Ms. Lane had left, was in the room, or was assigned to a different part of the building for crowd control.

I noticed the door to the classroom was still open and I looked inside as I walked by. No-one was in the class, so, I decided to wait for her to return while resting against the wall at the same spot I always used when talking to Mrs. Hymes.

Within a few minutes, the students began to dissipate. I had my head bowed while reading a book when I heard, “Hi, are you waiting for someone?”

I felt like Bugs Bunny when he saw Lola Bunny for the first time. My eyes popped out of my head, my jaw fell to the floor, a frying pan suddenly appeared in my hand and I began to pound the top of my head with it, while my feet were dancing, and I woof whistled. Well, metaphorically speaking that is what I did.

In real life, I squeaked out a slight giggle, swallowed, ran my hand across my lips, and said, “Hi.”

“You must be John,” she said as she extended her hand.

“I am, and you must be Ms. Lane,” I managed to say as I shook her hand.

“Mrs. Hymes told me you would stop by and say hi. She also said you are quite the writer and I would enjoy reading your stories if you would allow me.”

Inside my mind, I thought I would give her whatever she asked. Oh, you like Vincent van Gogh and think it is sexy he cut off his left ear lobe and gave it to Rachel, well, here, I will cut off both of my ears and hand them to you. Do you think I am sexy too? Oh, wait, I got it, how about if I found an actual dragon and slain it for you?

Fortunately, my little mind trips last a millisecond and all she could see was me smiling.

“I think Mrs. Hymes over exaggerated my writings. She is kind and takes a few minutes to help keep me on the right path,” I said humbly.

“If you ever decide to share with me, I would love to read them,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said as I held out my hand, “I had better stop holding you back from leaving. I told Mrs. Hymes I would introduce myself.”

“I am glad you did. Stop by any time,” she said as I turned and walked away.

“Wow,” was the only word I could think of after meeting her. I was in awe. I laughed at myself because I thought she was a student when I walked up. Since she had graduated from college in December, she would be twenty-one or twenty-two years old. Only four or five years older than me, I thought, that is not too much of an age gap at all. My mom and dad have an eight-year age difference and that doesn’t seem strange.

I snapped back to reality when I almost ran into the door divider while exiting the school. That would have been an embarrassing story to tell my mom when I got home.

“Oh, Johnny, how did you get that big knot on your head?”

“Well, Ma, I was daydreaming about how I would like to make it with the new drama teacher and I ran into a doorpost.”

Nope, not today, doorpost. I win this time. I stopped, took a step to the right then exited the door.

That night, however, I let the dreaming of Ms. Lane take over my thoughts, desires, and dreams. I fantasized about kissing her, feeling her up, removing all of her clothes, feeling her pubic hair on my lips as I licked her, and hearing her moan as she dug her fingers in my back while I thrust in her. When I came, it erupted out of me with so much force it landed on my face. I was on my bed, laying on my back, and stroking myself while imagining the scene. That was my normal masturbating position when I was that age. I would put paper towels on my belly and watch my cum squirt out when I stroked. However, I knew she was special when my hardness erupted like Mt. Vesuvius.