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going over the rules with your classmates who arrived on time.” I panned the silent room. “Would someone like to tell Mr. Lakewood what the penalty is for being tardy to class?”
    A young man, who answered earlier to the name Richard Chambers, said, “You gotta stay an hour after school, dawg.”
    â€œThat’s right, dawg .” I looked at Theodore and giggled along with the students at my usage of slang.
    â€œI apologize,” he said. “But what exactly is considered late?”
    â€œDid you think that this class began at one-fifty instead of one-thirty?” I asked.
    He answered, “No.”
    â€œThen you are late.”
    â€œBut what makes a person late?”
    â€œYou are late if the bell rings and you are not on the inside of that door.” I pointed.
    â€œDon’t we get a grace period?”
    â€œNo, sir.” This wasn’t the basketball court. He was going to play my game. “You have five minutes between classes, which is more than enough time to make it to any room in this building.” I tried to smile.
    â€œBut some teachers at least—”
    â€œI am not some teachers. I am Ms. Patrick,” I interrupted, giving him a grin. “When the bell rings, you are on my time, and on my time I get to call the shots.” I was trying hard to tone the “mean teacher” thing down this year. “Is that all right?”
    â€œI guess.” He looked nervous. “But it’s not really my fault.” I could hear the lie formulating, so I paced the area in front of the class until he got it together. Before he could speak, I said it for him. “Let me guess. You went to the wrong class?” I smiled.
    â€œNo, I had an emergency.” He looked away. “There was a message from my mom in the main office. I had to call her at work.” He continued. “It was an emergency.”
    â€œAll right.” I wanted to laugh. “Not a problem, Theodore. I’m laying down my rules today, but they officially go into effect tomorrow.” I softened my look. “So you’re off the hook today.”
    â€œThank you.” He flashed those pearly whites again.
    â€œThank you .” Then I remembered. “Oh, and by the way, watch your language when you’re in my classroom.” Not only was he late, but he came in cursing.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.” He played up to me. “It won’t happen again, teach.”
    â€œGood.” I took a deep breath as I walked over to the board and wrote my e-mail address. “As all of you know, my name is Ms. Paige Patrick. I will be your English teacher for this school year.” I pointed at the board. “This is my e-mail address. Use this for any homework questions you may have outside of regular school hours, and also for online assignments that you will have throughout the course of the year.” I continued. “I am thirty-two years young, and this is my sixth year here at West Dade High.” I took a breath and went on. “I am divorced.” I let students know about my divorce right off the bat. Why? Because many of them were still under the impression that I was married to Craig, and they knew that he was a ho. “I have no children or pets. My favorite color is black, and my hobbies include dancing, reading, going to the movies, and swimming. I spent my summer with friends and also used it to help me get in better shape.” I looked around the room then walked over to the latecomer’s seat. “Theodore, since you were the last one to sit down, let’s hear from you first. Introduce yourself to the class.”
    â€œAh, man,” he sighed and mumbled a bit before standing.
    When he stood next to me, I was a tad intimidated. He sprung up over a foot above my head. I skimmed over many newspaper articles about Theodore Lakewood, the basketball player from West Dade, but I had only seen him from a distance.