Public school teachers always tell me I have it easy working at an elite private school; they have the idea that all my students are angels and I never have a problem with a student or their parents. Mrs. Johnson, her daughter Julia and her granddaughter Miriam Johnson are shining examples of how much of a pain one family could be.
Miriam was a knockout, but at seventeen, I knew better than to let her anywhere near me. Miriam had bright blue eyes, a beautiful oval face, and a cheerleader’s body that would drive any male crazy. Miriam always wore clothes that emphasized her well-endowed figure, and the boys who sat near her in class were always hiding their hard-ons and her expensive French perfume did not hurt either. She was flunking my college composition class because in her words, “I never did a rewrite before and I’m not about to start now.” We had teacher conferences and the school’s president told me Miriam’s Grandmother would be stopping by for an extended visit and if I knew what was good for me, I’d wait until the grand dame arrived. At private schools, certain parents always got preferential treatment. The custodians kicked me out an hour after we should have left I was pretty angry I had wasted my time.