Rochelle had scheduled a quiz for her Grade 9 students for Period 3 on Monday morning. She knew the girls would rant and rile about it, as most of them attended school simply because they were forced to.

“I tell you, I don’t even know why I bother,” Rochelle had confided in Jennie, her colleague who taught Economics, when they were in the staffroom. “These girls protest about anything and everything. To make matters worse, Mr. Jackson always relents and submits to their demands.”

“Rochelle, you should know by now that our dear principal sides with the girls on everything. He’ll never defend you or any of the teachers at this school.”

Rochelle was shaken from her musings by the rowdy entrance of her all-girls class. The leader of this estrogen-rich pack was Melanie, she of the peroxided haircut and crass manners.

“We’re not taking any English quiz today,” Melanie shouted, gesturing grandly to include all the students in her declaration. “We want a free period, Miss. We just finished a hard Maths quiz in the period before yours,” she elaborated. Earlier, they had made a pact to refuse to take the quiz, to be as uncooperative as possible.

“Tough on you,” Rochelle responded. “This is high school, not kindergarten. You should expect to be writing many quizzes. You don’t get to choose which ones you want to and which you don’t want to write.”

All of the girls had by then taken their seats, but they were all still talking to each other, ignoring Rochelle. What she said next though silenced the class as effectively as a gun being fired right next to them.

“If you don’t take the quiz right now, Melanie, I’ll slap the fear of God into you!”

“Then go ahead. Come slap me,” Melanie dared Rochelle, effectively calling her bluff.

Rochelle stalked up to the rebellious girl. She lifted her right hand slightly, as if she were about to smack Melanie. The next second, Melanie slapped Rochelle hard across the left cheek, the sound of it echoing for seconds in the dead still classroom.


“Melanie,” Principal Jackson addressed the short, stocky girl in his office, “you need to apologize to Ms. Petersen. You slapped her and that’s just unacceptable!”

“I won’t apologize. My mother taught me to be honest, and I would be lying if I said I was sorry for slapping her. She deserved it ’cause she was going to slap me!” the feisty girl responded.

“Melanie, it was just a threat! Of course your teacher wouldn’t really have slapped you, but why did you slap her?” an exasperated Principal Jackson asked.

“She was about to slap me, but I was just faster,” Melanie answered with not a shred of remorse.

Knowing that he was on the cusp of bursting into laughter, Principal Jackson shouted at the girl.

“Get out! Go to the bathroom and wash your face!”

He would forever remember and relate the incident of the student who was a speedy slapper.


Image: Thought Catalog (