Free Educating Esmé by Esmé Raji Codell

as sharp as I know your answers will be.”
    I nearly fainted. For a kid who doesn’t do what I say, he sure hears what I say.
    â€œWait! Is Madame Esmé taking Billy’s test?” Selena queried. Billy looked at me.
    â€œOf course,” I came out of character for a moment to announce, “I’ll take it, as Billy would.”
    Billy didn’t look very comfortable. “Did you study?” he asked as he handed me the test.
    â€œYa’ll didn’t say nothin’ ’bout no test! Dang!”
    Billy rolled his eyes.
    Throughout the test, I made a point of leaning over to see Ruben’s answers, tossing paper at kids’ heads for their attention, and sighing audibly with frustration. Billy sent me a mixed assortment of disapproving looks. Finally, I turned in a C test, figuring that was at least a full grade above his average.
    Billy took the children to lunch. I bought him a teacher’s lunch, and he ate with me in the teacher’s lounge. He looked funny, sitting with all the men and women in his T-shirt and tie.
    â€œSo you’re the teacher today, huh!” one of the teachers quipped.
    â€œYes’m,” he muttered.
    â€œDoing a fabulous job, too,” I added.
    Billy smiled into his sloppy joe.
    After lunch Billy launched into his paper airplanelesson. While he was beginning his explanation, Mr. Turner walked in. Billy was poised with a sample airplane, and I was slouched down at his desk.
    â€œI didn’t do it!” I yelled when Mr. Turner entered. The class laughed.
    â€œRaise your hand if you have something to share,” Mr. Williams corrected patiently.
    Mr. Turner looked at us, one, then the other, and walked out. At the end of the day, Ms. Coil told me he came back to the office and said, “Something’s going on in Cordell’s room, but I’m not sure I want to know what it is.”
    I let Mr. Williams off the hook at the last period of the day, assigning a composition, “The Day Billy Williams Was Our Teacher.” I wrote a composition during the period, too, “The Day Madame Esmé Was Billy Williams.” At the end of the day, I read it to the class: How I had forgotten how hard it is not to chew gum, how uncomfortable the seats were, what a pain it is to have to go to the washroom with the class when you don’t even have to
go
, how scary it is when you forget to study, how easy it is to feel stupid even ifyou’re smart. I let Billy have my composition, and he took the rest of them home to grade. I looked at the one on top, by Zykrecia.
    â€œI cant beleave she rilly did it. She said she would and she did. Billy Williams was our teacher today. He couldant really control us but other than that he did a good job. He always givin trouble well now he got some, I think he learnt a good lessin. Madam was actin just like Billy. It made me feel good that she remembers what it like. She ast me for gum but I didint have any. Maybe Ill be real bad so I can be teacher next.”
    After school I complimented Billy on a job well done, and that I thought he would be a fine teacher someday, if that’s what he chose.
    â€œAin’t choosin’ it,” he grumbled, smiling. “Too hard.”
    I gave Billy my old harmonica from when I was eleven and told him I’d teach him to play it, if he still wanted me for a teacher.
    Note to self: Give Zykrecia some help on contractions.
January 18
    â€œWhen are you going to fix up your room so I can show it to people?’ asks Ms. Coil.
    â€œJust as soon as you tell me what on earth you mean,” I replied.
    â€œNo time right now.”
    â€œYou took the time to insult me, surely you can take a moment to back it up.”
    She came up to my room. “I’m just trying to give you teachers constructive criticism. I don’t know why everyone is getting so defensive,” she worried aloud.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYou’ve actually responded