Teacher, Teacher

By Kate le Roux

High school Biology teacher Jack is getting a little tired of his colleagues teasing him about how perfect he and fellow teacher Amy would be for each other. She's nice, sure, but for two people to get together mostly because they are both tall is just plain dumb. But when Jack and Amy are given a job to do together, it turns out that they have more in common than he thought. Amy knows she's naïve, so perhaps volunteering to tutor Shakespeare and English grammar to the troubled teens of the gang-infested Cape Flats is just what she needs to grow up a bit and get the hang of this adulting thing. Besides, she could do with something to distract her from the dark-haired guy on a motorbike, who takes up more of her thoughts than she knows he should.
Join Jack and Amy through a year in the life of Thornhill High, on on a journey of friendship and faith, conviction and opposition, romance, hopelessness and heart-breaking tragedy in this uniquely Capetonian story.
This book contains no sexual content, gratuitous violence or strong language and is suitable for readers from thirteen up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate le Roux
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393346104

Kate le Roux

Kate le Roux lives in Cape Town, South Africa, where if she stands on tiptoes she can just about see Table Mountain from her kitchen window. She grew up on a diet of CS Lewis, LM Montgomery and Louisa May Alcott, and since being allowed into the Young Adult section at the local library at the age of thirteen she still hasn't really left. She spent a good number of years marking mostly horrible English essays and getting high school kids to act out bits of Shakespeare which she loved, leaving only to focus on being a mom to four crazy kids.

Book preview

Teacher, Teacher

Life Science teacher Jack is starting to get fed up with the teasing. Fellow teacher Amy is nice, sure, but he hardly knows her at all, and he’s not about to change that just because all the interfering aunties on the staff at Thornhill High think he should. But a new year is beginning, and he and Amy have been given a job to do together. They will have to get to know each other now, whether they like it or not. And as he faces a crisis of conscience that will threaten his new independence, perhaps he will need all the friends he can get.

Amy has resolved that this will be her year to be brave, to emerge from her privileged, sheltered bubble, to do new things and push out old boundaries. As she and Jack become friends, she discovers a different, harsher world on her doorstep that she hardly knew existed. But there is also a dark-haired guy on a motorbike who is unexpectedly more a part of her life than he was before, and a young girl from a violent world who needs a friend more than a teacher.

Teacher, Teacher follows Jack and Amy through a year in the life of Thornhill High, as they both seek to live out their faith, despite what it might cost them.

Teacher, Teacher

Kate le Roux

The first gulp from the glass of natural sciences will turn you into an atheist, but at the bottom of the glass God is waiting for you. 

—Werner Heisenberg

We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.

Hebrews 10: 30

Chapter 1

Jack Bezuidenhout sighed and leant back in his chair, pushing back his scruffy hair and stretching out his long beige chino-clad legs under the table. It was two hours since the principal, Mr Hughes, had kicked off the start-of-year staff meeting, and at last it was over. What a way to start the year, he thought, with an interminably long, boring drone about a bunch of stuff he already knew or could easily have looked up in the thick pile of handouts on the table in front of him. He looked over at the counter at one end of the staff room where the motley collection of coffee mugs stood beside the tall stainless-steel urn that was steaming and bubbling invitingly. It was way too long since his last cup of coffee. 

Eish, said his friend Themba, getting up from the table. "That was long." Jack grinned at Themba, who was looking smart in his new shirt, shiny pants and sharp-toed shoes. He wasn’t used to seeing Themba in ordinary clothes – Themba was one of the PE teachers and sports coaches and usually wore one of his extensive collection of branded tracksuits and takkies to school. Today, however, was the first day of the school year, just for the staff. As the teachers prepared for the start of the year, the classrooms and corridors were strangely quiet and empty.

Yup, said Jack, getting up and stretching. And in a few minutes, I have to go and see him in his office. I have no idea why he wants to see me.

Hmm, said Themba. Maybe he’s going to give you a promotion.

They both laughed at that as they made their way to the table beside the tea counter, which was loaded with plates of pies, cakes and sandwiches. Tannie Maryna had spoiled them all again, as she always did on any occasion that gave her an excuse to. They both knew that were no promotions in this teaching game – only more work to fill the already often impossibly full days. If being a grade head, a subject head, even head of department made any difference to the balance on the payslip at the end of the month, it wasn’t by much.

I’m doing enough already, said Jack, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Tennis coaching, school magazine, detention duty – plus all the actual teaching. I have a life too.

Themba laughed. Jack, he said. Be honest. You have no life.

Jack shrugged. Themba was just joking. He had a life. He had friends – a few. He did stuff with them on the weekends, like the odd hike or braai, and there was always church on Sundays. He had been single for most of his adult life, except for one or two short-lived disasters, and although he would have liked not to be, he was twenty-seven now and he supposed he was used to it. But he wasn’t about to fill his life with work anymore than he already did. If Mr Hughes had another job for him, there would have to be some give and take. He wouldn’t mind palming off the school magazine job onto someone else.

You and Miss Atwood, said Themba, as the two filled plates with cake and sandwiches and made their way back to their table. Why does he want to see both of you at the same time?

Again, I have no idea, said Jack, getting stuck into his cake. And don’t even think about making some kind of comment. That joke is getting really old now.

Themba held up his hands in defence. I said nothing, Jack! Nothing!

Jack shook his head at Themba’s protests of innocence. Amy Atwood was an English teacher, and ever since she had arrived at the beginning of the previous year people had been elbowing Jack in the side, suggesting that he should get to know her better – people like Themba, and Tannie Maryna, and everyone else who thought they were so clever to notice that they were just perfect for each other. The joke had almost certainly stemmed from the fact that Jack was by far the tallest of all the staff, so much so that someone had started calling him the BFG soon after he had started working at the school, and Amy was by far the tallest of the women teachers. They were both young and single and they both went to church. That was about all they had in common that Jack could see. Amy was a very pleasant person as far as he could tell from their limited interaction over the past year. If he had met her in any other context he would have had no objection to getting to know her. He had to admit to himself that she was an attractive girl, with a mass of spirally curly blonde hair, a very warm smile and a quirky dress sense that he had noticed and rather liked. But the joke that had begun a year ago annoyed him and he had avoided her ever since. She probably felt the same – on the odd occasion that they had needed to say something to each other she had been polite without engaging at all. He was fine with that. For two people to get together just because they were both tall was ridiculous.

Jack drank his coffee and dusted the crumbs off his lap as he stood up to get to his meeting with Mr Hughes. As he got to the door he almost bumped into Amy, who was carrying an armful of books and wasn’t looking where she was going.

Sorry! she said, flashing him an embarrassed smile. A thick blonde ringlet had escaped from her messy bun and hung over her face. She shook her head and blew air upwards out of her mouth to get it out of her vision.

That’s okay, he said. Any idea why Hughes wants to see us?

No, she said, shifting the pile of books in her arms. She seemed a little flustered and tense. None at all. But three people have already teased me about it.

Oh, he said. Can I help you with those? He couldn’t help offering. Half the books were about to slide off the pile onto the floor.

Thanks! she said, as he grabbed at the books, rescuing them just in time before they landed on the floor.

Sorry about the teasing, he said. It’s getting a bit tired, that joke, isn’t it?

She nodded. It’s not your fault, she said. But they just won’t give it up. The very mention of our names together sets them off again.

I didn’t know they bothered you too, said Jack. He stood back as she went through the door, and then followed, still carrying the books he had rescued. I thought it was just me they enjoyed tormenting.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and they made their way towards the principal’s office together. It was unavoidable; Hughes had asked to see them promptly at eleven, and Jack hoped none of the busybodies would notice them walking down the passage together and subject him to more hints and comments later. He felt mildly annoyed with himself for having that thought. Why shouldn’t he walk along the passage with Miss Atwood without being afraid of being teased? It’s a tall person thing, he thought to himself as he made sure to duck under the low doorway that led to the office. We stick out more than we want to already. We don’t want more attention than we already get.

Mr Hughes looked like a school principal. He was in his late fifties, balding, and wore metal-rimmed glasses that he had had for so long that Jack thought you could probably get the same ones from the retro section at the opticians. He always wore a white shirt and one of his vast collection of sometimes goofy ties hanging over his protruding stomach. He was a genial, likeable man, even if he was guilty of making waffly speeches and letting staff meetings run way too long. This was his tenth year as principal, and he was proud of the fact that under his leadership Thornhill High had done well, keeping up its spot in the Western Cape’s top ten schools. If he suspected that most of that could be attributed more to his super-efficient deputy, Mrs Valencia August, he kept that to himself. He ushered Jack and Amy toward the two chairs placed in front of his desk and they sat down.

I’ll get straight to the point, he said, as he settled himself on his swivelling chair, straightening his Daffy Duck tie. I said this morning that Mrs Blunt resigned unexpectedly during the holidays because her husband has been transferred overseas.

That was a surprise, said Jack. We’ll miss her in the Science Department.

We were lucky to get Mr Ebrahim to take her place – really lucky. He was at a loose end after a temporary post and I was very relieved when he agreed to join us. It’s so hard to find a good Science teacher these days.

I’m looking forward to working with him, said Jack, still wondering what this had to do with Amy.

The thing is, said Mr Hughes, I can’t exactly ask Mr Ebrahim to take on the Christian Union. He’s a Muslim.

Ah, said Amy. I forgot about that. Mrs Blunt ran the CU.

Jack realised now what this was about. Mrs Blunt had run the school Christian Union for years, and under her leadership it had become a thriving school society. Jack had helped out over the past few years – he had attended meetings and a few events and had twice helped Mrs Blunt organize and run the annual camp. There were about a hundred kids who attended the meetings every week. Mr Hughes was openly supportive of the CU; a churchgoing man himself, he considered that the society was good for the school.

Mr Hughes sat back in his chair. I am hoping you two will volunteer to fill the gap. She specifically asked me to ask both of you when I spoke to her.

Jack felt a little stunned. To run the CU would be a big job, and he was busy enough already. But it was an important job, and he knew he would not turn it down if there was no one else. But Amy – why Amy? He thought she might have been at a few meetings, and he had an idea that she had helped in the kitchen when there had been a combined schools’ get together at the school pool last year, but other than that – why had Mrs Blunt wanted her to step in?

Why me? Amy’s words echoed his thoughts. That was nice of Carol to mention me, but I don’t know why she did. I’ve hardly even been to CU.

My dear, said Mr Hughes, Carol said that she knew from the way you prayed for the kids that you really cared about them. She said she hoped you would take it up, for the girls’ sake. I think Carol ran a Bible study or something for the girls, and she was hoping you would take that on.

Amy’s eyes were wide, and Jack was still confused. Mr Hughes noticed.

You know about the staff prayer meeting on Friday afternoons, Jack, said Mr Hughes.

Yes, he said. I can’t make it because of the lift club. Jack commuted to school from a suburb north of the city about forty-five minutes away, and he and a few other teachers who lived out there shared the drive to work.

Amy was a regular attender at the prayer meetings last year, said Mr Hughes. She always prayed so sincerely for the kids. I think she gets a little too attached to them, myself.

Amy blushed. She looked very self-conscious. Jack was surprised. He had known that Amy went to church, but he hadn’t known she was one of the teachers who met every week to pray for the school.

Well – what do you say? asked Mr Hughes, looking at both of them. Will you take it on?

I have a heavy extra-mural load already, said Jack. I’m coaching tennis and there’s also the Saturday morning tutoring in Mitchell’s Plain starting up, but if you could find someone else to take on the school magazine editing I could do it. I want to do it. Jack surprised himself with his conviction. It seemed very important that the CU carried on at Thornhill High. With Mrs Blunt gone, someone had to keep it going.

I can do that, said Mr Hughes. I had forgotten about the tutoring in Mitchell’s Plain – that is quite a heavy after-hours load. Maybe I’ll get Miss Rose to take on the magazine. What about you, Amy?

I want to help, said Amy. "But maybe Jack would rather be the teacher in charge and I could just help. I don’t want to be in the way or anything. I don’t know if I’d be good at actually leading it."

You wouldn’t be in the way, said Jack, quickly. He knew he wanted the help. The silly joke about him and Amy would just have to end. I’d much rather not take this on alone.

All right, said Amy, flashing him a smile. If you think I can do it.

Why wouldn’t you? asked Jack. Mrs Blunt clearly thought you could.

Amy looked pleased.

Wonderful, said Mr Hughes, leaning back in his chair with his hands on his stomach. That is a relief. There’s a camp booked for the end of March, and the deposit is already paid. That will have to be organised.

He reached over to a corner of his desk and picked up a thick file. Mrs Blunt brought this over – I suppose you’ll need it. He handed the file to Jack.

Jack took the file and looked at Amy. She smiled back and shrugged. She had a nice smile, and he thought for a moment that perhaps he had been missing out, avoiding her for a year. It was definitely time to put an end to this stupid teasing. They were going to run the CU together this year and the busybodies would just have to get over themselves.

What was that all about? asked Amy’s colleague Lindiwe, as Amy returned to the staffroom after the meeting with Mr Hughes.

Amy took a stack of papers out of her pigeonhole and started looking through them. He asked us to take over the CU, she said.

Oh yes, said Lindiwe. Mrs Blunt has gone. I didn’t think of that. Are you going to do it?

I am, said Amy, as they went over to a table and sat down. With Jack.

Lindiwe grinned. You and Jack?

I know, said Amy. It’s going to be painful.

Hey, Jack’s not that bad, said Lindiwe.

I didn’t mean that, said Amy. There’s nothing wrong with Jack – he’s the BFG. I mean the teasing. We’ll never hear the end of it.

Just ignore it, said Lindiwe. They’ll get tired of it eventually.

I suppose, said Amy. But it’s been a year and it’s still going strong. Mrs Robbins just asked me if we were meeting Hughes to ask for his blessing.

You must admit you two would look cute together, said Lindiwe, mischievously. Aren’t you just the tiniest bit interested? Maybe that’s why the teasing bothers you so much.

Ssh, Lindi! said Amy, looking around her. There didn’t seem to be anyone listening. I have hardly said five words to the guy in a year, and no, I have not thought of him like that. Ever. He’s nice but he’s ... he’s just nice. That’s all. He’s the BFG!

Lindiwe laughed. Okay, I hear you. It will be good for you, to take on some responsibility. It’ll stretch you a bit, I think. I’ll help if you like.

That will be great, said Amy. And Jack mentioned tutoring in Mitchell’s Plain. I vaguely remember something about that last year – do you know what that is?

St Bartholomew High, said Lindi. We have some kind of partnership with them. Some of the teachers tutor there every second Saturday. I went once, but I haven’t been able to make it again. Maybe I should – those kids are so clueless when it comes to Maths. I sat with a girl last time who trying to do Matric Geometry, and she didn’t even know what a theorem was!

Why do they need tutoring? asked Amy. What about their own teachers?

Amy! said Lindi, folding her arms. Where have you been, under a rock? You do know that the only reason you don’t have fifty kids in your classes is that the kids at Thornhill pay high school fees to cover the cost of extra teachers? At St B’s there just aren’t enough teachers to go around. Never mind text books and desks.

I sort of knew that, said Amy. I just never thought about it, really. Do you want to go again? Maybe I will too.

Lindi smiled. I’ll go again, she said. And as I said, it would be good for you. It will open your eyes a bit. But you should be prepared – it’s not exactly safe there. Last time I was there we heard gunshots. And the kids aren’t nice and neat in their uniforms and pigtails. These are kids who have seen more violence than you probably ever will.

Amy nodded. I know that’s where the gangs are, she said. And I know I’ve lived in a privileged bubble all my life. Maybe this is the year to broaden my horizons and get out of my comfort zone.

Mitchell’s Plain will do that for you, Amy, said Lindi. I have no doubt about it. Just don’t tell your mother.

Amy laughed at the thought of what her mother would say if she told her she was going to Mitchell’s Plain. But she wasn’t a child any more, she was a real self-supporting adult, making her way in the world, even if it was still terrifying sometimes. If she wanted to go to Mitchell’s Plain to tutor the children of Gangland, there was nothing her mother could say about it, even if she knew.

Chapter 2

Amy led her class of brand-new Grade 8’s up the stairs from the quad to her classroom. They were all a little overwhelmed at the size of the school and all the older kids, and even if some did not admit it, nervous about what their teachers would be like.

This classroom is so pretty! said a small, bespectacled girl in the front row, looking around at the walls of colourful quotes and posters, the plants on the windowsills and the rainbow curtain over one window.

Thanks, smiled Amy. She wrote her name on the chalkboard and introduced herself to her new class. None of you has name badges yet, she said. Do you guys think I can learn all of your names before the end of today?

No way, said the little girl with the glasses.

That’s too hard, said someone else.

I think I can do it, said Amy. Let’s make a deal – if I know all your names by the time you come back here at the end of the day, you guys will promise to behave for the rest of the year.

Some of them laughed; most nodded in agreement. It’s not gonna be easy, Miss, said one tall dark boy near the back. Some of us have hard names.

That’s okay, said Amy. I think I can handle it. What’s your name?

Qiniso, he said, grinning a wide white smile, the click on the Q loud and pronounced off the roof of his mouth. The class tittered.

"I’ll remember them, but I can’t promise to say them perfectly yet, said Amy. She tried it out. Qiniso. How was that?" She had learnt a little Xhosa at school, but the clicks were difficult and she had never quite mastered them.

Qiniso nodded. It was okay, Miss, he said, grinning. Most teachers just call me Kwiniso.

I’ll have to practice, said Amy. All right – let’s start.

When Amy got to the end of the last row, the kids clapped and cheered.

Wow, Miss! said the small girl from the front row. Georgia, Amy remembered. "You are good!"

Thanks, said Amy.

"How do you do that?" said a red-haired girl – Lily, Amy reminded herself.

I don’t know, said Amy. I just like people, and I remember their names.

Grade 8A and Miss Atwood had got off to an excellent start. They spent the next half an hour going through the timetable and consulting the school map to figure out where they would have to go for their classes for the rest of the day. They had all, even the mischievous ones, been feeling a little as if they were tiny fish that had been thrown into the big, scary sea, but by time the bell rang they all felt a little more confident and a little less alone. Most of the kids trooped out of the classroom feeling that they had lucked out being put into Miss Atwood’s class. She was one of those teachers who looked at them as if they were people, not worms or insignificant names on a class list, but at the same time they knew instinctively that she wasn’t one of those teachers who would let them get away with nonsense. Georgia had already decorated the inside cover of her homework book with little pink hearts that said, I love Miss Atwood on them. Her heart, at least, was happy. High school was a big and intimidating, but she had a teacher who was an ally, not an enemy, and that made all the difference. 

Jack’s class had a rather different experience during the first registration period. His class were Grade 11’s, mostly sixteen-year-olds. He already knew most of them, and after he had quickly ticked off the attendance register he perched on the front of the desk in his Science lab and faced them.

Good news, people, he said. We’re only having half a day of school this morning!

Really? said a neatly-groomed girl in the front row, her eyes wide. Amelia, he remembered. She was on the CU committee. Only half a day?

What? But no one told us that! said Shakes, a wiry blonde boy in the back row whose hair was gelled back, Draco Malfoy-style. The look fit his personality well. 

Yup, said Jack. We’ll have the other half this afternoon.

Everyone groaned.

Ah, Mr B, said someone. "That is so weak!"

Yeah, yeah, said Jack. Just checking how sharp you all are.

It’s only the first day, Sir, said Heath, a lanky boy with dark hair that flopped lazily over his forehead. He sat at the side of the room, surrounded by a group of girls. Our brains aren’t switched on yet.

You’d better get them switched on, then, said Jack, grinning at him good-naturedly. We’re starting with the classification of micro-organisms today. Fourth period, I think.

Everyone liked Heath. He had a wide smile that endeared him to everyone, both staff and kids. He was a natural leader, already pegged for head boy the next year. Jack knew him well; he had become a Christian two years before at a CU camp and Jack had met up with him and a few other boys a few times after that to go through a Christian Basics course. Heath had some friends at St Bartholomew’s in Mitchell’s Plain, and had come along to some of the Saturday tutor sessions the year before. Jack was glad Heath was in his class; he was a good influence on everyone around him – unlike Shakes at the back, whose equally attractive personality had the potential to lead his followers straight into trouble. This was going to be interesting, having both of them in the same class. 

When they had all claimed a desk and he had handed out their timetables, he let them chat and catch up until the bell rang for his first class. He sat at his desk looking through the thick CU file Mrs Blunt had left for him, feeling a little overwhelmed at this new, unexpected responsibility. This camp coming up meant he had to get a camp form together, get the kids to sign up and return their forms (always a battle) and collect money. He would have to organise transport, plan activities, get someone to volunteer to organise the food and cook, find a speaker ... the list was long. Luckily Amy was there to help. He wondered if he could rope Themba in, and maybe Lindiwe too.

Some of the kids noticed him staring into space, deep in thought, and shook their heads in amusement. Mr B was known to get lost in thought, sometimes in the middle of a lesson. They didn’t mind much. They were getting to catch up with their friends after the holidays while he was tuned out, and he hadn’t even noticed that most of them had their phones out. Mr B was strict in class, and his handwriting was almost illegible, but he was a good teacher who was patient and reasonable with them. They would have to endure his jokes and puns, but no one minded that too much, and most of them thought his enthusiasm for Life Science, especially gross dissections of eyeballs and pigs’ guts was a bit extreme.  But they sensed that he valued and liked them, and they mostly responded with respect and decent behaviour. Besides – what was not to like about a class teacher who started the year off staring out of the window while you sneaked bits of your lunch, chatted to your friends and scrolled your Instagram? Grade 11B was not complaining.

Chapter 3

Lauren! called Amy from the tiny kitchen in their little flat. I’m making coffee – do you want some?

Desperately! called Lauren from the lounge where she was painting her toenails. It was Saturday, and Amy and her flatmate were having a lazy morning hanging out at home. Amy was still in her dressing gown, her just-washed hair