Third grade troubles.
Disclaimers: I don’t own Angel, and I don’t own the Baby Sitter’s Club.
Summary: Cordelia: Doyle taught third grade?!
20 minutes with Doyle.
“You lot,” Allan Francis Doyle looked at the three identical images he had in front of him. “You lot are enough to drive a man to drinking…”
Since he was talking to pictures, and not the actual children, he felt that such statements could be made.
“Little devils,” he added. “I just know that you lie awake in the night and think up new ways to make the new teacher’s life a bloody nightmare.”
He got up from his desk and looked out at the classroom.
He had been so satisfied when he had started teaching third grade. He knew he had something then, could donate his worldly wisdom on the impressionable minds that needed a guiding hand. Okay, not all of his worldly wisdom, since this essentially was third grade. But the things he was supposed to tell them, he could. And in his mind they had been grateful.
It just came to show how much the American society had gone downhill recently.
Or how implausible his expectations had been.
Harry would encourage him when he got home, she always did. Though lately she had been a bit off. He had no idea why, and whenever he tried to bring it up, she accused him of mollycoddling her. As if he would ever do that.
Well, maybe he would.
If she would just tell him, then everything would be okay. Maybe.
Francis sighed. This was the worst part of the job. But someone had to do it. And the threesome had been just too much trouble lately.
He leaned over to the phone, picked it up, and dialled the number which he had found himself dialling more and more often.
“Mrs. Pike? I’m afraid I need to talk to you about Adam, Byron and Jordan’s behaviour. Would it be possible to set up a conference with you, some time soon?”