Another life

“So class” Says the English teacher, “Today we will be continuing our analysis of Shakespeare’s...?” She raises her eyebrows at the group of half asleep teenagers in front of her, “Anybody?” She looks around again and then pulls an animatedly sad face. “Shame” She says sitting down at her desk “An extra house point was definitely going to the person with the right answer” Apparently expecting that this would somehow alter the odds of someone wishing to participate, she stands again and looks around. After an actual sad face, she sits again and starts to read names off the register, even this gives an atmosphere of dreary ‘Monday morning blues’. After handing out a copy of the book to what might as well have been corpses, the English teacher strides to the front of the room and starts to drone about the supposedly obvious hidden meanings of certain things, a table, a oddly shaped potted plant and various other things that could have aroused a chuckle now and again but certainly not any level of interest from either party.

Twenty six meaningless minutes later she finally gives up on the pretence that she doesn’t care about these peoples education, “Okay” She says, raising her voice, “I want....” She looks around and, seeing the most obviously unperturbed soul in the room points to the back “Jack! Why don’t you help me with this analysis? Hm?” she smiles as the lanky boy drags himself to the front of the room. “Now...” says the teacher scanning the page of her book,” the writer describes the blue curtain, why do you think he fixates on this? Hm? What do you thinks is the meaning of the curtain and its purpose in the scene? Hm?” her pompous voice seems to tire out the boy even more and he yawns before answering,

“Maybe,” He says rubbing his eyes “he said it was a blue curtain, becaaaause, it was a curtain...and it was blue?” Smiling clumsily he makes his way back to his seat and slumps down onto the table lazily.

“Umm...yes I suppose that is one way to interpret it, but perhaps he is emphasising the dull colours like those expressed in chapter...” She taps neatly on the front desk where a girl jumps up suddenly “Huh?” She says wearily “Yes miss” and hides her head in her arms to continue her slumber.

“Yes jenny, that’s right chapter forty two” Says the English teacher in a drained voice, “Now perhaps he is trying to reiterate the sadness of that chapter by using the colour blue as he also described the...” Looking around again she sighs “In that chapter he fixates on the colour blue in the...Sky! Perhaps he is showing how he feels in this chapter by his use of the colour blue in the curtain. Yes?”

“No” comes a sullen voice from somewhere. The teacher sighs, perhaps this wasn’t the right career path, pottery hadn’t seemed more promising at the time but all the same, this wasn’t how she had pictured her future.

“Miss Layland?” Comes a voice from behind her,

“Yes?! What the-“She turns around and stutters “Is it that you need Miss Carson?” The head teacher is frowning at her with narrowed eyes “I need to speak with you? It won’t take a minute” she turns and strides out of the room, “Oh...yes, yes of course”. As she follows the head teacher out she looks out at the class, struggling to keep her fidgeting hands by her side and not making rude gestures at the students, they are all sitting up with perfect smiles and impeccable uniforms. “Little prats” She says under her breath, “what was that?” says the head without turning,

“Oh nothing” Says Miss Layland smiling, “Just...Nothing”.

“Now” Says the head turning abruptly to face her, “I need you to participate in the annual staff play, the last slot is that of Kimpy...the dwarf” The head glances up briefly, “You will be attending rehearsals every Thursday, for the next three weeks”. Suddenly realizing the scrunched up position of her face Miss Layland relaxes and smiles again, the head raises her eyebrows “well?” she says,

“Oh, yes the annual play, Mm yes” She looks around frantically not able to make up convincing cover story on the spot, “Should I take that to mean yes? Because I am late for a meeting”,

Opening her mouth and closing it like a fish Miss Layland looks seriously back at the head whose sour face is contorted with anticipation, “Yoga!” Says Miss Layland almost screaming in the heads face,

“What?” She says wiping spit out of her eye,

“Yes,” Says Miss Layland as if this were a normal conversation “Did you say Thursday? Yes I have yoga on Thursday s...Every Thursday” She waits for the reply leaning back in case the head starts yelling, but she just sighs and walks off in the opposite direction, rolling her eyes. 

                                                                                                                    *

SNAP. The woman wakes abruptly and sits up in her large bed. Getting up she walks over to the high windows and sits on her stool as the morning sunlight pours into her workshop, “What today?” She asks herself, looking down at her desk which is full of sketches and paintings of pots and bowls. After eating some of her homemade soda bread she sits down on her worn table and hums lightly to herself as she gets her resources out of the cupboard then, with her foot firmly pressing the pedal, her pottery table begins to spin. Plonking a lump of clay onto it she starts to mould a new design that she has been working on for weeks, and continues to hum as she moulds the clay around her experienced hands. Suddenly recalling something she stops and thinks hard, she has remembered something horrible another life that was full of unhappiness and whining overweight children. She shakes herself “Ergh, what an awful dream” and continues to form her unique vase, in her sunlit workshop, in the south of France.