There was no doubt that Miss Morgan was one of the most sophisticated teachers in the school. But not that first morning after the winter break. It was early, right after 7AM. Leaned on the building’s wall, the security guard took a sip of coffee from his paper cup when he saw the teacher coming from the parking lot. She stopped for a few moments to take off one of her shoes and shake it. Then she put it back and continued her walk.
When she came close to the building, the woman stiffed her neck and lifted her chin in a try to show self-control, but she couldn’t foul the guard.
“Morning, Miss. Is everything OK?” and he opened the door for her. It was his first time talking to this teacher. He felt it was his duty to ask such a question.
The woman didn’t look at him, motioned her head instead of greeting and moved forward without a word. A strand of hair loosened from behind her ear and covered her eye. When she pulled it back, her hand was shaking.
“Do you need help, Miss?” the security guard insisted from the frame of the door pointing to the heavy bag the woman was carrying. But he got no answer.
Miss Morgan stepped in her classroom and turned on the lights. Her heart was beating franticly. Yes, they were there in her school bag. She dumped them on her desk and slowly took a seat in her chair. While staring at the pile, a stream of sweat had covered her forehead, but she didn’t care to wipe it off.
All her students’ tests were there, ungraded.