Secret Masochist - Education Ch. 01

(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)

Chapter 1

You have to do something about your grade in History class

You see a reminder about your meeting with Mr. Peterson, your History teacher.

Aw, shit...

Mr. Peterson had agreed to meet with you to discuss your grade, which has been slipping recently. Just thinking about it got you steamed. You always did well in his class and (usually, mostly) turned in your homework on time. You just couldn't stand his authoritarian teaching style, and you feel like he had been punishing you for talking back in class. Somehow, you knew he was docking points off your papers and tests to get back at you for being such a brat. Unfortunately, there was no proof.

I need that grade back up though, if I'm gonna have any chance at that scholarship.

The thought of your coveted scholarship got your feet moving in the direction of Mr. Peterson's classroom. You didn't really care that much about a college education, but that scholarship was your ticket out of your crummy town. Your other grades were good enough to get you in the running, but your last History paper had pushed your grade in that class down to a C. Any grade below a B-, no matter which class it was in, was an automatic disqualifier.

You arrive outside the door of the classroom. On the door, Mr. Peterson had hung a poster of the Founding Fathers, standing around doing some important shit like drafting the Constitution or whatever. The old men look out at you from the poster, as if questioning your right to be there. All of a sudden you get cold feet. What if there's nothing I can do? What if I really am getting the grade I deserve?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you pull the door open and step inside. You have to do something. Besides, you've always excelled in History class. The problem isn't you. It's Mr. Peterson.

Your History teacher looks up from his desk as you enter the room. All around the walls of the classroom there are posters of kings, emperors, generals. Men who spent their lives controlling, dominating, shaping history in their image. The oppressive weight of their male authority fills the room. You realize you're standing awkwardly in the middle of the classroom as Mr. Peterson clears his throat. "Why don't you have a seat in front of my desk, Miss Murray?"

On the surface, his voice sounds like a nerdy middle-aged History teacher, but there's a commanding edge underneath that you hadn't noticed until now. Before you realize what you're doing you've sat yourself in the chair right in front of his desk. You blink, trying to remember what you wanted to say.

He sighs. "I take it you're here to discuss your grade, Miss Murray?" His hair is dark, shot through with gray, and has a slight curl to it that makes it stand out from his head. His full beard frames his narrow face, and his dark eyes bore into you. He's only a little taller than you are, but sitting behind his desk he exudes an air of confidence and authority. "Well? Speak up, Miss Murray."

You blink stupidly, suddenly feeling very unsure of yourself. "Um, I, yeah... my grade..." You clear your throat. "I just... I don't understand why my grade is... the way it is?" You wince. Christ, I sound like an imbecile. Get it together, RC! "I mean... I understand the material, and I've always done well with the subject, I just don't get why I keep getting such low scores on my tests and papers."

Mr. Peterson looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "Well, Miss Murray, I'm going to be quite honest with you. Your behavior has been an issue."

"My behavior?" I knew it!

"Yes, Miss Murray, your behavior. You are rude and unruly, your language is often inappropriate for a school setting, and your attitude is, quite frankly, out of line for a student, especially a young lady student."

You feel your cheeks get hot. "Excuse me? What does being a 'young lady' have to—"

"And right now is a perfect example." He talks right over your protest. "You're talking back to an authority figure." He shakes his head. "All of this is quite distressing, Miss Murray. It's a distraction for the other students, it's a frustration for me, and I believe you'll find that such a lack of discipline is a detriment to yourself, as well."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. You can't believe this asshole. "Lack of discipline?"

"Yes, Miss Murray, discipline. Now," he raises a hand to cut off your reply. "I want to help you. Truly, I do. Nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing my students succeed. I can see that your lack of discipline is causing issues for you, and I believe if that were to be corrected you would see an improvement in your grades."

You bite your tongue. "What kind of improvement?"

He folds his hands in front of him on his desk. "Well, Miss Murray, you're correct that your work in the class is quite competent. I believe if we are able to address your behavioral issues we could get you up to a B. Possibly higher, but that depends on you."

That's good enough for the scholarship. That's good enough to get out of here. "What do I have to do?"

You see something shift in his eyes. "I believe I have an idea of what is behind your lack of discipline, Miss Murray. I have a special tutoring program I'm willing to offer you that can address this. I've found it to be quite effective with... students such as yourself."

"Special tutoring?" Something about those words makes you uneasy, but also... excited.

"Yes, Miss Murray. We can start right now, if you like."