Miss Raquel And Freya Von Doom [EXTENDED]

And Miss Raquel? She retired last spring. At the faculty party, someone handed her a scrapbook of thank-you notes from former students. Most were saccharine. One, handwritten on thick cream paper, read: Dear Miss Raquel, You taught me that rules are only as strong as the people enforcing them. Thank you for being so breakable. Cordially, Freya von Doom (formerly the girl with the sideways bean plant).

Miss Raquel’s smile did not reach her eyes. She placed a yellow card on Freya’s desk—the first step toward the dreaded red card, which meant a note home and the revocation of recess. That afternoon, Freya sat on the "Thinking Rug," a beige square of industrial carpet where dreams, apparently, went to be interrogated. miss raquel and freya von doom

That was the first strike. The second came during a lesson on community helpers. Miss Raquel, in her brightly colored vest, asked the class to name people who keep us safe. "Police officers," said one child. "Firefighters," said another. Freya raised her hand. "Villains," she said. Silence. "Because without them," she continued, "heroes would just be… people with expensive hobbies." And Miss Raquel

"Freya," Miss Raquel said, kneeling to eye level, "why can’t you just follow the rules?" Most were saccharine

"I don’t know," Freya whispered. But she did know. The rules were a cage, and Miss Raquel was the zookeeper.

Miss Raquel stared at the card for a long time. Then, for the first time in thirty-two years of teaching, she laughed—a real, surprised, helpless laugh. She tucked the card into her pocket, next to her red pen and her faded hall pass.

Over the next three years, Freya did not become a better student. She became a more interesting one. When Miss Raquel assigned a book report on Charlotte’s Web , Freya turned in a persuasive essay arguing that Templeton the rat was the true hero because he alone understood the transactional nature of friendship. When the class planted beans in styrofoam cups, Freya’s grew sideways, twisting toward the shadow of the bookshelf instead of the window. Miss Raquel called it "contrarian." Freya called it "adaptation."