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BULLY 4 LOVE
A Rather Odd Love Story
BY STEVEN PAUL LEIVA
“She walked into my classroom ten minutes early on the first day of the Fall 1990 semester at South Pasadena Adult Education. I sat at my desk with my head down, going over notes and a sheet of mandatory announcements.
It was not hard to hear the entrance, which came with a slight swish to it. I raised my head to greet my first adult education student.
She stood just in from the door: a person—a woman—a person, unlike any person I had ever seen or, indeed, have ever seen since, for she was radiant. Radiant—a not unusual
adjective and often a metaphor—but at that moment, as she stood there, and as I possibly held my breath, the word was an utterly accurate adjective that was just barely a metaphor.”
Thus begins a very odd love story
“Steven Leiva not only promises but delivers. Bravo!” — Ray Bradbury, Author of “The Laurel & Hardy Love Affair”
She walked into my classroom ten minutes early on the first day of the Fall 1990 semester at South Pasadena Adult Education. I sat at my desk with my head down, going over my notes and a sheet of mandatory announcements. I had prepared the notes over the weekend, as I always did, for I was always prepared. The sheet of announcements had been handed to me just before I had gotten to my classroom by the Adult Education Director, Ms. Deborah Miller. It was not hard to hear the entrance, which came with a slight swish to it. I raised my head to greet my first adult education student.
She stood a little way in from the door: a person—a woman—a person, unlike any person I had ever seen or, indeed, have ever seen since, for she was radiant. Radiant—a not unusual adjective and often a metaphor—but at that moment, as she stood there, and as I possibly held my breath, the word was an utterly accurate adjective that was just barely a metaphor.
“Is this World History?” she asked with a slightly shy yet determined voice.
“This, um, this would be it, yeah.”
“Where would you like me to sit?”
“I don’t think we need to assign seats in adult education.”
She smiled, saying, “Okay.” She then surveyed the classroom, looking it over, taking it all in, not in a glance but with penetration and consideration, breaking it down, I guessed, into quadrants, musing on the advantages and disadvantages of various positions. Should I sit upfront to the teacher’s right? I assumed she was thinking, or directly in front of him or to the left? Should I sit back a little? What chair looks the most comfortable? Well, she couldn’t have been musing on that last one; the chairs were all exactly alike. They were those smallish blonde-wood chairs with collapsible writing surfaces that could be stored to the side of the chair or brought up via an ingenious mechanism to flatten and lock in place before the student. There were six rows of six chairs each—little soldiers in the literal support of public education bringing order, if not discipline, to classrooms worldwide, including my classroom here.
I say “my classroom,” but that is not accurate. It was Ms. Roberta Boxer’s classroom there at South Pasadena High School where, during the day, it catered to fifteen, and sixteen-year-old sophomores tasked, one fifty-minute session a day, with learning—Ms. Roberta Boxer so passionately hoped, I’m sure—some information and facts about, and possibly some understanding of, American history. On the wall behind my, or rather I should say, Ms. Roberta Boxer’s desk, were two large green chalkboards I was not allowed to use. Ms. Roberta Boxer, who, I was made to understand, had only grudgingly given up the evening use of her classroom, demanded that whatever was on the chalkboard remain untouched, and certainly unerased, as it would always be pertinent to her next day’s lesson. Due to this hard-as-stone stipulation from Ms. Roberta Boxer (I would have loved to have thought of her as “Bobbie,” but somehow I just couldn’t), the adult education administration—that is, Deb Miller—managed to score me a white dry erase board on wheeled legs. Deb had personally wheeled it into my—sorry, the—classroom, and I would have to wheel it out at the end of class. Ms. Roberta Boxer had made clear that in no way was it to be evident in the morning when American history would again be ascendant in the world.
Print Length: 329 pages
Publisher: Magpie Press; 1 edition (May 7, 2021)
Publication Date: May 7, 2021
Genre: Literary Fiction/Comedy
Steven Paul Leiva is a Scribe Award-winner, receiving the praise of literary legend Ray Bradbury and Pulitzer Prize finalist Diana Ackerman. Leiva is no stranger to the business of telling a good story. Author of nine previous novels, and with a writing-style that lays hard on the satire, this Hollywood-escapee doesn’t pull punches when it comes to the zany and the absurd.
Links to Steven’s website, blog, books, #ad etc.:
Pre-order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/Bully4Love
Need to know more? Follow him on Amazon or Goodreads, or check out his blog here: http://emotionalrationalist.blogspot.com