When it came to people like Heather, compliments and good words always meant something else. Priscilla wasn’t unaware of it, no; neither was she ignorant. In her twenty-six years of living, she had been with enough people who showered her with false compliments and hollow flattery. It was the way of the world; such was not unwarranted, either. Priscilla knew that people were jealous of her; if she were in their place, she would compliment herself as well. So, despite the knowledge of a hidden agenda, and despite the knowledge of a secret motive, Priscilla smiled nevertheless. She never turned down compliments, no matter how false or hollow they were. If a person’s best way to destroy another was through flattery, then who was she to turn it down? It was better to make them think they were winning whilst accepting the compliment. That way, both parties felt better about themselves. Priscilla liked compliments, and other people liked to pretend to compliment. It was a win-win situation, truly.
However, she let the comment pass with just a sweet smile as they moved further on in the conversation. Priscilla was a passionate teacher – not only when it came to what she taught, but also when it came to the future of the next generation. There were many names for her: bitch, phony, false, and more – but there was one thing she was not: she was not lacking. She believed in the next generation, and in the hope that the future lay in the hands of those she taught. It was what made her so good at what she did; what made her so passionate; what made her cut above the rest. Her passion was seen in her eyes as she spoke, and it was in the grand gestures of her hands that they manifested.
Heather, on the other hand, did not seem as passionate. Priscilla thought it was teachers like the woman before her that ruined everything for everybody. Why work with people you didn’t want to work with? Why work on something that you had no interest in? Why work for something that you did not have passion for? Did she not know that in her hands was the very future of the children that she taught? Did she not know that she taught not only what books could teach, but also life lessons that students would keep with them for the rest of their lives? Priscilla could remember her teachers; teachers that had believed in her, and teachers that had honed her to become who she was today. Did Heather not see that? A look of disgust flitted over Priscilla for a moment – but it was gone before it could be noticed. There was nothing she hated more than people who took their job as a teacher lightly.
The frown easily came back on her features when Heather targeted her very subject, the whole of her class compared to just one lesson in hers. But, then again, it was people like these who didn’t understand to begin with. It was people like Heather that made sex education so important. “I rather think learning to value sex, the consent of others, knowing about rape culture, learning how not to perpetuate rape culture in a society that endorses it, learning how to practice safe sex, and the likes are just as important as counting coins and dollar bills,” Priscilla said with a knowing tone, the frown having disappeared from her features. It was, as expected, replaced by a sickly sweet smile that meant business. “We are not one-dimensional, after all. We ought to learn holistically, as people. And, god, if you believe otherwise, then we’re going to have to get you into more teaching conferences. You must know that people need to know more than just to count coins and bills, right?” There it was again: the condescending tone, the winning smile. Priscilla knew she had asserted herself on top once again. She was right, wasn’t she? To compare counting bills to safe sex just did not match up, and Heather needed to know this.
She flashed another sickly sweet smile at her colleague. “That’s the question we ask, but also one that we can answer. It is our goal, as teachers, to light a lamp for the next generation. To pass on the torch to them, and – like I said – teach them holistically. Not only should they know about math and science, which are, in and of themselves, important. But they should also learn how to live. How to maintain their day to day lives. How to be more, beyond what textbooks and workbooks say. It is only then, when we have done our best, should we ask such a question.” Priscilla may be a bitch, and her tone may be condescending, as it always was, but she was genuine. She believed in what she said; she believed in the next generation. And, more than anything, she believed that teachers played a huge role. Sure, they were underappreciated. And sure, they were unrecognized. But that was not what mattered. It did not matter what trophies or medals they had; what mattered was the lives of the students they touched. Trophies and medals were important to Priscilla, but not as important as the lives of her students. And this – this, if anything – shone through her eyes as she spoke.
Heather watched Priscilla's beady brown eyes gleam with excitement, and she found that the other woman's passion made her extremely foolish. Foolish was far too kind. Stupidity was the correct term. It was hard not to laugh at Priscilla's genuine feelings about being a teacher. Honesty meant vulnerability, and Priscilla's honesty was another of her fatal flaw. Did she really think she had any effect on her students? Heather knew for a fact that half of them spent the class drawing an assortment of body parts on the tables, while the other half probably tuned out on her ramblings. It was interesting, really, how she expected people to simply love what they did. Surely this woman never stepped foot into reality. People worked for one reason and one only: money. Heather needed her job to cover her more illustrious activities, yet her paycheck was a nice bonus. She could easily discern the brief disgust and shock on Priscilla's face, but she herself had no deranged ideals of changing the world through her little fifth graders. If they were the future of the country, then this country was exceptionally screwed.
"Oh, absolutely," she said, easily submitting to Priscilla's absurd beliefs. She widened her eyes in agreement. "It's definitely important for adolescents to understand how important and valued sex is. Especially in our society today. Although if you're implying that learning the basic in finance isn't important, then we should agree to disagree. I do hope for my students to have the most firm background in math. It's quite hard for them to progress in higher grades if they don't build a correct base. But yes, of course, even I would be a fool to claim that sex education wasn't important." Heather suppressed her instinct to vomit. Perhaps tonight she'll treat herself to a nice bubble bath to compensate for her current suffering.
Priscilla's smile with disdain, a feature that Heather found most repulsive. As she went on and on—something about torches, although it was hard to concentrate over the little typhoon generated from Priscilla's wild hand gestures—Heather's thoughts wandered. She strove hard to keep her mob life out of her "normal" activities, but it was sometimes impossible to suppress her violent thoughts. While her students sat, taking a quiz or reading in the allotted time, Heather often wondered about how easy it would be to kill her more insufferable coworkers. It was a game that she indulged herself with whenever she was bored. Talking to Priscilla now, she found her thoughts would inevitably drift over to the other woman. It would be easy, so easy that it was insulting. Priscilla spoke with confidence and sweetness, a skill that was undeniably impressive, but her muscles weren't capable of brute strength. However, Heather knew she would find more satisfaction in something a little more cunning. A slip of cyanide or even hemlock in her drink, ammonia gas in her house, perhaps an allergy that could prove lethal—the possibilities were endless if Heather truly cared to try. But despite Priscilla's condescending implications, she was harmless. And Heather would be lying if she said she didn't like a little tête-à-tête.
"Your passion is inspirational," Heather said, snapping back to reality. "What made you become a sex-education teacher in the first place? I mean, I never thought I'd become a teacher, but sex-ed seems a little...unconventional. Most children dream of becoming actors or doctors. The thought of teaching kids about sex hardly crosses their mind." This was perhaps the first honest sentence spoken from her lips. She did wonder what made Priscilla choose her occupation. Perhaps she had a strange fetish, or wanted to be a dominatrix, the former being more likely. Whatever it was, Heather was actually interested in her response.
