So, there I am, sitting at my desk while my monsters...er, brats...er, students are writing a test. I have just completed marking one set from another class and I decide, what the hell! I need a break. So I pull out Act Five.
I check to make sure everyone is on task and I start to read.
I am reading when suddenly a hand touches my shoulder.
"Madame, are you all right?"
I look up to find one of my brats handing me a tissue from the box I drag around with me from room to room because God forbid that 17-year-olds might actually carry tissues when they have colds or allergies.
"You're crying, Madame," whispers the brat. (One of my nice males, whose voice, even when pitched low, resounds in every corner of the room.)
I accept the tissue, look around the classroom to realise that the kind of silence a teacher dreams of is truly present. So are 30-some pairs of eyes watching me, in varying degrees of curiosity, embarrassment and panic.
"It's okay," I sniff. "It's just a really beautiful story."
The girls sigh and smile. The males roll their eyes and snicker.
So much for my image as a real bitch, but what a way to lose it!
This story is brilliantly written. It captivated me for its tone from the very first and drew me into a world that was well worth the hours of research and the library fines.
I think this one is a masterpiece. I'm off to rec it.