Joey, Why Do You Do These Things?, chapter 1

Why the hell am I still here? is all I could think of as I spun around in the chair behind my desk. The bell for first period rang and the students began to slowly and lazily file into the classroom and sit down. I stopped spinning and looked out into the twenty-something teenaged faces looking expectantly back at me. I sighed and stood up.

I walked to the chalkboard and began to draw. I could hear the murmurs behind me. I turned back around and put down the chalk.
"Can anyone tell me what band this sign is for?" I asked. Hands slowly began to raise. I picked one at random.
"Pink Floyd?" the girl asked. I nodded and looked at the prism that was on the board.

I looked back into the classroom at the kids. There was one missing. I took a head count. Twenty-three. There should be twenty-four. I thought a minute and realzed who it was. He was always trying to ditch class.

I leaned against the desk and sighed. "Okay, guys," I said, "Where's Joey?" They looked at each other.
"I'll ask you one more time," I said, now irritated,"Where's Joey?"
I looked at his best friend, Michael.
"Mike," I said,"Where's Joey? Tell me or you have detention for the next week." He straightened in his chair. "He's in the teacher's lounge," he sighed.
"Teacher's lounge? What's he doing in there?"
"Pranks."

I ran out the classroom and down the hall to the teacher's lounge. I pushed open the door. There stood a fourteen-year-old Joey Armstrong, huddled over the coffee table. I put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. He slowly turned his head.
"H-hi, Ms. Opal. Wh-what's up?" he asked, smiling at me.
"Joey, what have I told you about this?"
"That it's not nice and I shouldn't do it."
"Right. And yet, you still do it."
"Looks like it."
"Joey, you're probablly going to wind up in jail someday."
"Maybe, but I bet my da-"

I cut him off right there. I stood him up and pointed to a chair.
"Sit," I said. He barked under his breath. I rolled my eyes. I paced down the room.
"Joey," I said,"Your father can't bail you out every time you get in trouble."
"Yeah he can."
"I don't care who he is, he's still a dad."
"Yeah, but he's a nice dad."
"That may be, but, parents need to discipline their kids."
"Mine don't."
"Well they should."

He shrugged. Yeah, yeah, Billie Joe Armstrong's his dad. Because of that, that makes him think that he can do whatever he wants to do. Even destroy school property, which he's done on many occasions.

I may be a huge Green Day fan, and maybe I am excited that I'm teaching Billie Joe's son, but hey, I'm still a teacher.

Before I go on any furthur, allow me to introduce myself. My name's Sally Opal. I'm a teacher here at Berkely High. How I got this job, and why I wanted it, I have no idea. I teach history of rock'n'roll. Yeah, it's a weird subject to be teaching, but, it's pretty interesting. The kids seem to like it. Well, most of them do.

I don't think it's that Joey doesn't like it, it's that he thinks he doesn't have to do the work. He thinks that he can buy his way through highschool. I don't care who his dad is, it still doesn't mean he can.

I'm hated by the rest of the staff. Yeah, I'm the youngest, and the thinnest, and the prettiest, but, they don't have to spread rumors and talk about me. I know it sounds snobby, but, I can't help it if I look better than them!

I'm only twenty-six. But, I don't teach the seniors. Just freshman and sophmore. I'm not like the other teachers at all. I'm not into the whole, "hair in a bun, tacky dress, glasses at the end of your nose" look. I usually wear mini-skirts or ripped up jeans. I wear thick eyeliner and my hair is black. It's not dyed that way, though. My skin is pretty pale. I don't wanna get a tan, though. I like the way I am.

Anyways, back to the story...

I walked Joey back to class, where the kids were talking. They whispered to each other as Joey walked down the aisle to his seat. He gave them all dirty looks. I knew that once I turned around that he would flip them all off. I don't care. I cuss in the classroom, they should be able to, too. Language is just language. It can't hurt you.

I erased the prism off the board. "Alright," I said,"The lesson today is Green Day." Joey raised his hand.
"Yes, Joey?"
"Billie Joe Armstrong and Mike Dirnt were the original founders of the band Sweet Children. They hired Jhon Kriftmeyer, who later became known as Al Sobrante, as the drummer. When Billie Joe was ten, his father died of cancer. He wrote his first song when he was fourteen called 'Why Do You Want Him?' It was about his stepfather. They got their fist gig at Rod's Hickory Pit. They later changed the name of the band to Green Day. Al quit the band to head for college. They later assigned Frank Edwin Wright III as the drummer. He later became known as Tre Cool. Billie Joe dropped out of high school when he was eighteen and Tre dropped out later. Mike was the only one who graduated and only finished a year of college. They are currently on tour for their new CD."

He sat back with that smug little smile of his. He had just recited the whole lesson!
"Just for that, Joey, you can write a whole 200-word essay on what you've learned this year," I said.
"Come on! What did I do?" he said. I turned around to write on the board. A spit ball hit it. I turned around just in time to see Joey try and hide his straw.
"Alright, Joey!" I said, grabbing his arm. "That's it! Forget the essay, you're coming with me to the pricipal's office! Right now!"