Teacher Trouble (A short story and a cartoon attempt.)

Ms. Jones stood in the front of the room ready to start. Few people were paying attention to her. Many were playing with their chairs, others doodled on papers, while others chatted loudly with their neighbors. She had to get their attention somehow.


“Please stop talking Leslie and Judy,” said Ms. Jones firmly, “It’s time to begin.”

The two culprits looked up guiltily and quickly quieted down.


“Now, I’d like to start...” began Ms. Jones when the door opened.

Jack sheepishly grinned from the doorway, “Sorry, um, late, um, mom, and, um, I had to use the bathroom. Sorry again. I tried to get here on time.”

Ms. Jones sighed, tucked her hair behind her ear and calmly replied, “It’s fine, just come in quickly.”

Jack nodded, smiled and found his seat.



Ms. Jones began again, introducing her topic when a hand began to wave in the back of the room.

“What NOW?” She thought to herself. I’ve barely begun.

Gathering her patience she asked, “Yes Betsy?”

“Should we be taking notes?” inquired Betsy.

“Patience.” Ms. Jones chanted repeatedly in her head. Then she smiled at Betsy and said, “Taking notes might be a good idea.”

Suddenly Betsy stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked a confused Ms. Jones.

“I have to get a pencil if I need to take notes.” was Betsy’s reply.

A chorus of “Me too” arose throughout the room, along with the sounds of digging and searching as everyone scrounged for paper and pencil.

Puffing out her cheeks and slowly letting the air out, Ms. Jones commanded, “Stop. Never mind. Just listen carefully for now and I’ll give you copies of the information later.”

Sighs of relief were heard as everyone returned to their seats.


“Okay, we don’t have much time left, so no more interruptions please.” Ms. Jones stated as she tried to start, yet once again. It was at this moment that out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement.

She continued to talk, but tracked the movement with her eyes. It was just as she suspected. Someone was passing notes. Quickly she raised her gaze and made eye contact with the guilty party.

Tom turned bright red as Ms. Jones shook her head ever so slightly at him. Silently he crumpled the note in his hand and listened to what she was saying.

Later, sitting at her desk, sipping a diet soda, Ms. Jones sighed deeply. “Why?” she asked herself, as she did each week, “Why are teachers so much trouble? I think being in charge of faculty meeting is more difficult than teaching a class of students!”