Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 1 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 1

... find the comedian: Josh Kerrigan. He’s tall – well, they all are compared to me – and has a trim, manly body for an 18-year-old, sandy blonde hair and a ready smile with nice, straight teeth. He’s not the captain of the football team, or a super athlete, or a nerdy genius; he’s just a normal kid; a normal, good-looking kid, with a ripped chest … okay, it’s possible I have a little crush on him. As I walked back to the front of class, Josh held out his fingers at hip-level and I couldn’t help myself; I gave him a little low-five as I went past. It felt nice. Am I a bad teacher? I suppressed a pang of guilt as I thought about my fiancé for a moment. Am I a bad fiancée? I don’t think so; it doesn’t hurt to look, right? Just a few more moments before the bell rang; I had planned to have a little fun with them and maybe give them an opportunity to learn something useful for a change. I still had time. “Okay, one week of high school left, you lot,” I called out to a muted series of cheers. “So, I’m giving you,” pause for effect. “Homework!” Groans and grand ‘why me’ gestures all round. “Wait for it, wait for it!” I quietened them, trying to hide my smile. “And I want it on my desk,” another pause to build up tension, “next Friday morning in class.” Stunned silence all round. Next Friday was the last day of school for the Year 12s; also known as Muck-Up Day. They would party all night Thursday, drinking alcohol and setting up practical jokes for the rest of the school to see when ...

... they came in; and even though the teachers would still turn up to class, tradition dictated that none of the students ever did. Nobody was game to admit that they wouldn’t be turning up on Friday morning and they were trying to silently work out among themselves whether I was joking about the homework without tipping me off. I allowed myself a little smirk to let them know this was optional homework, although I really did hope that some of them would take it seriously and try to impress me. “I want you to write me an essay,” I continued. There was a much louder chorus of confusion this time. Mathematics teachers simply didn’t ask for essays. “I want a thousand words,” I said, looking meaningfully at all of the eyes staring back at me with a mix of incredulity and apprehension, “on the most influential mathematician of the twentieth century.” I expected some more groans but I didn’t get them; it was mostly just a confused silence. I think a lot of them had already decided that I was joking. “Who’s that?” It was Josh asking; I hoped he’d take this seriously because he can be terribly bright when he applies himself. “I want YOU to tell me,” I explained. “Do some research, pick a twentieth century mathematician and tell me why he or she was so influential.” Then the bell rang. Perfect timing! Like a raft of migrating penguins they rose as one and spilled out the door with youthful Friday good cheer. As I packed up my stuff, I looked up and felt a little heart flutter to see Josh ...