Member-only story
Education, Self
This is How My Teacher Stole My Voice
She told me I sounded like white trash
Ms. Jenson
Ms. Jenson had been a third-grade teacher for most of her adult life. Every short grey hair on her head was scribbled there by chalk-dusted adolescent hands. Yet, the girl she’d kept after class that Friday afternoon had her stumped.
Toni was normally a well-mannered and obedient student. However, a few days earlier, Ms. Jenson had caught her signing her mother’s name next to titles of books she’d read. There was no doubt the girl had read the books, so why the forgery?
Then that afternoon, the normally shy girl had come back from a bathroom break with green teeth and a purple mustache. Toni had walked to her desk and started on her schoolwork without saying a word.
Ms. Jenson sent Toni to the bathroom to wash her face then gave her a detention slip. Toni had made no argument, and now she sat quietly, looking up at Ms. Jenson with unblinking green eyes. There was still a shadow of the purple mustache over her lip.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Toni. Are you bored?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ve asked you before — please don’t call me ma’am.”
