Our last school day was when I received my report card, So naturally, like all the others, I was filled with anticipation as I opened the envelope to see if I had passed. My grades were consistently below average because I didn't think I was smart enough. 

 The second question I feared was whether I would get assigned to Miss La Rose as my seventh-grade teacher.

Everyone knew Ms. La Rose was the strictest teacher, and every sixth grader feared being assigned to her class.

I was one of them, and my torment began when I opened my report card and saw "MISS LAROSE" in the teacher's slot. I felt doomed!

I remembered all those days I passed her classroom as I would take the attendance sheet to the office every morning. I would hear the teachers' tiny voices squeaking underneath the loud thundering noise of unruly students. But, of course, that wasn't surprising to me or anyone else; that was the norm of every school morning.

However, what was unusual was that I never heard Miss La Rose speak or anyone else in her class speak. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop!

One day, I dared myself to stop and take a peek. I wondered if she had any natural, living, breathing students in her classroom.

 As I quietly approached her door, I looked around the hallway to see if anyone was around. All I could hear was my heart beating so loud; I was afraid she would notice it too, take me into her dreadful classroom, and make me into one of her "Students!"

The closer I got to the door, the faster my heart beat; I could hardly breathe.

  Suddenly, I felt a chill go down my spine, and as I looked up,

She was standing right over me with her hands on her sides, looking down at me to my amazement.

I was so petrified I ran straight to the office and back into my classroom with a record time that no one else has ever broken, even to this day!

Summer vacation was over, and the dread day came much too fast. On the first day of school, as I walked into Miss La Rose's classroom, my knees were trembling, and chills were running up and down my arms; even the hairs on my arms were standing straight up, and my thoughts were repeating the words, "I hope she doesn't remember me."

Everyone was so terrified that no sound was heard other than hearts beating to the tune of her footsteps. She paced her classroom in slow motion. Her long, dark hair swayed with the movement of her body. She kept her chalkboard without any streaks and only two pieces of chalk in the slot. This wasn't normal. Her classroom even smelled clean, and every desk was in the perfect place.