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hopefullylovelyxx · 5 years

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Ça te rend belle.

part one

Authors Note:

This is my first writing post so sorry if it’s not fantastic but I’m growing as a writer everyday so it’s only up from here. Also all the French in this story stems from me being in AP French and all the mentions of high school memories/actual events taking place at the high school are based on my high school experience in America so sorry if you’re from another place and it doesn’t make sense. Also I’m not sure if this high school name is an actual high school somewhere so if it is then oops. If you have ANY questions or comments regarding the story PLEASE send me an ask and I’ll happily answer. Huge thank you to @nips-and-tats for encouraging me to go through with this story and giving me the confidence to post my writing <3. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. xx

. . . . . .

Wednesday August 15, 2018 6:52 am

Anxiety. Tests. Homework. Studying. Anxiety. Loneliness.Embarrassment. Insecurity. And more anxiety. The words that describe Y/N’s high school years best. As she walks up the steps to the high school her university assigned as her student teaching school she’s puzzled as to why she’s choosing to spend the rest of her life working in the exact same environment that she desired to break away from just 5 short years ago yet, for some odd nostalgic reason the environment is sort of comforting. She walks up to the front office door preparing herself by rehearsing what she planned on saying and running through the scenario she just practiced on the car ride over. Once she has everything on the tip of her tongue she pulls the door open and walks in with a smile she hopes they don’t look too closely at or else they might see right through her nerves and fear.

She approaches the desk and confidently begins to say “Hello I’m-“ but is cut short by the secretary holding her finger up for Y/N to take as a cue to hold her sentence. Y/N is taken aback as the scenarios she had thought up didn’t include one in which she’d be cut off by the secretary on the phone with a parent she presumes based on the answers being given. “Yes ma’am school started Monday....well I don’t know why your son would say the school burned down....okay...okay....no problem....thanks you too, bye.” She hangs up and looks up at Y/N with a warm smile, “How can I help you?”

Y/N smiles back and scraps whatever she’s practiced for the past 24 hours because now it’s all a bunch of jumbled up words that make no sense. “Um I’m Y/N, the new student teacher for French. My university said they sent over all the information.” She looks a bit confused then recalls the memory and says “Ahhh yes! Welcome to Meadow High School. I’m just gonna need to see your ID please.”

As she retrieves her drivers license from her bag Y/N recalls a brief memory of her mom getting her out of school early after calling her about fake stomach aches having to show the office secretary her ID. She shows the older woman and she gives Y/N a badge on a lanyard with her name and the schools name. She recalls all her years of schooling staring at her teachers badges yearning for one of her own.

She puts it on and has to keep her excitement contained as the secretary who she learns is named Kathy, gives her a map of the school and explains that the language buildings are just straight out of the office door leading into the school. “202. Can’t miss it. Mrs. Meyers is very...patriotic about the French culture.” Y/N just nods wondering what on earth that could mean.

As she walks out into her new but temporary life she immediately understands what Kathy was talking about. She walks the small distance between her and the French flag wrapped around a Eiffel Tower statue nearly as tall as her and knocks on the door before entering.

She’s met with a tall blonde, blue-eyed, woman perhaps in her mid to late 50’s rummaging through stacks of papers. She looks up at Y/N and says “ah you must be Y/N.” She stands up and shakes her hand. Y/N recalls the past couple days of emailing Mrs. Meyers. Just going over the basic classroom norms and requesting that 1 of the 2 class periods Y/N was required to teach be 6th period because she wanted to leave work early. Once Y/N informed her that the university has a policy of an actual teacher being present for each lesson a student teacher gives, Mrs. Meyers explained to Y/N that she had done this with multiple student teachers in the past. Not wanting to stir anything up Y/N just accepted it and although teaching seniors AP French wasn’t her first choice- as she felt she couldn’t connect with the older students as they might not take her seriously being only 5 or 6 years older than them- she requested first period as it was Beginners French aka French 1/2 meaning most if not all the students would be Freshman.

Most people would dread being stuck in a class in front of the youngest more immature of the school but Y/N felt the opposite. She felt that it was a privilege of some sort and great responsibility to teach the younger students not just French but also set them up for success in all aspects of life and prepare them for the next few years of school. It filled the maternal role Y/N always felt growing up wanting to take care of her baby dolls with extra care and now as a 23 year old wanting to care for students as her own children in a weird sense.

She knows that this student teaching job is only a semester long and that by the time winter break is over these students won’t be hers anymore but at least they were hers at all. Having only 4 months with them is good enough reason to make time with them even more precious she thinks. Or perhaps the school will allow her to stay another semester, perhaps she can be a teachers aid if they don’t allow her to keep her French teaching position.

Y/N is shaken out of her thoughts as Mrs. Meyers asks her to set the printed seating chart up under the document camera to be projected onto the white screen at the front of the classroom. Y/N recalls dreading those box representations of desks with names in them, she never liked change. School gave her enough anxiety, adding change to it made everything worse. The recollections of finding out she had to sit next to someone she didn’t know makes Y/N’s heart race for a second then quickly stops once she brings herself back to Earth remembering she’s 23 and not 17.

Once the bell rings Mrs. Meyers turns to her and says “Get ready for hell.” Y/N gives a little laugh but is quite confused as to why she would say that to someone who’s here to practice how to be a teacher.

She shakes the weird statement off and quickly brushes over the black silk of her plain romper and adjusts her jean jacket making sure the cuffs are folded perfectly. She looks down at her feet and wonders if she should’ve worn other shoes or if gold sandals will be fine for the tasks ahead. Now second guessing her entire outfit choice Y/N shakes herself out of it remembering it’s summer and 1000 degrees outside plus she’s a student teacher, who cares what she’s wearing.

When the first few kids come in they are noticeably confused by her presence but when they look up at the seating chart they’re too annoyed to even care. They all share glances and eye rolls as they go to their seats.

Y/N doesn’t know if she should want silence in the classroom being a teacher and all because the overwhelming sounds of the students talking are helping to make the negative thoughts in her head be muffled. By the time she knows it the second bell rings and the announcements go on continuing to stall for her. She can’t hear announcements over the students talking but is not bold enough to quiet them down and she’s not sure she wants to.

Finally the announcements fall silent and Y/N takes a deep breath. As she opens her mouth to speak Mrs. Meyers beats her to the punch. “Everyone be quiet!” The young faces notably aggravated turn away from their conversations and look at her. “This is Ms. Y/N and she’s a student at UCLA ( my university/location for the story but you can imagine any university or any location of your choice :) ) and she’s going to be your teacher this semester.” She looks at Y/N to take over and goes to sit at her desk in the back right corner of the room. She smiles and says “As Mrs. Meyers said, I’m Y/N. I go to UCLA. I’m studying to hopefully be a French teacher and I’m looking forward to teaching you all.”

A girl in the middle of the class raises her hand and Y/N smiles happy to have her first ever question from a student. “Yes?” The long blonde haired girl with foundation a few shades too tan but maybe that’s the style -who knows it’s been years since Y/N has been in high school- furrows her eyebrows and says “So like...you speak French fluently?” Y/N nods and says “I started learning French in 7th grade and continued all the way until college.”

A boy in the front row raises his hand and once Y/N gives him a nod he says “Say something in French.” Y/N thinks for a moment then settles on the basic introduction, after all this is just beginners. They probably don’t know a word of French. “Bonjour classe. Je m’appelle Y/N. J’ai vingt-trois et je suis très content d’être ici.”

They all stare at her in awe of her skill. All their hands fly up and Y/N says “I’d love to answer all your questions but I really want to get to know you.” There are some audible groans so Y/N says “You get a candy if you state your name and something about yourself.” Almost everyone’s hands go up and Y/N smiles to herself.

. . . . . .

*annoying iphone alarm that makes all our ears bleed*

“Fucking hell!” Harry groggily yells trying to stop his alarm. When he can’t seem to feel his way to his phone he groans and sits up grabbing it off his nightstand silencing it. 5:30 am. He throws his head back against his headboard reminiscing to just last week when he was able to sleep in. Which for harry meant sleeping until 7.

He’s always been an early bird ever since he moved to LA. Perhaps it was the time differences between here and England or maybe he’s just got the soul of an old man like all his ex’s have inquired for some odd reason.

He never quite understood that but assumes it’s because of his music taste and love for literature. It could be the fact that his closet is full of suits, nice button ups, trousers only your 70 year old Irish-uncle would find appealing, and his array of paper boy hats.

Whatever it is, Harry doesn’t mind. His confidence is thick like the copy of War and Peace he has on his bookshelf and will never deteriorate no matter how many shots anyone takes.

This confidence has also made Harry seem quite closed off to some. This mixed with his rather reserved nature has definitely made his social life quite dry. But he’s learned to become accustomed to it.

Harry rises out of bed in nothing but a grey tee shirt and black Calvin Klein underwear. He sleepily walks into his apartment bathroom and strips the few clothes he had on as he waits for the shower water to reach the perfect temperature. He gets in thinking about the past two days of school. It may only be his 3rd year teaching but he can tell his students this year are gonna be his favorite.

He thinks back to their discussion about the classes summer break reading assignment on the first day and chuckles a bit remembering what Kyle Patterson said about Romeo and Juliet, “The only reason I’d poison myself after knowing a girl for a few days is if she ghosted me.”

Harry knows he seems like a nightmare of a teacher to everyone on the outside but he enjoys the little curtain he has up. It makes it more fun when his own students to realize he’s not some pretentious boring British guy but actually a pretentious funny British guy.

Harry gets out of the shower and quickly dries himself before tying his towel around his waist. He brushes his teeth and shaves his face before going back into his bedroom and picking out a nice white button up and charcoal colored trousers with some nice black loafers. He lets his hair air dry as he packs his lunch and breakfast into a paper bag before putting it into his brown leather satchel making sure he has everything he needs for the day.

Upon arriving to the school he notices his usual parking spot is taken by a car he’s never seen before. “fucks sake.” He mumbles to himself driving around to the other aisle and parking in the first spot he sees.

Once Harry’s in his classroom he lets out a big sigh and immediately feels at home. He contemplates making a seating chart but decides against it considering they’re seniors and in an AP class, he doesn’t feel the need to control where they sit. It’s one of the things he likes about teaching seniors.

Their independence and self sufficiency. Yes, harry helps them when they don’t quite understand underlying symbolism or when they need something to be translated into “teen terms” rather than 19th century English, but more often than not they’re capable of figuring it out themselves. He’s always happy to guide them if they need and definitely loves to crack jokes throughout his lessons. His students past and present know how hilarious and lively he could be; but it’s day and night between his interactions with students and with the world around him. It’s why harry loves his job. He’s able to be his fun free spirited self then his tranquil reserved self all at the click of a button.

The bell rings and after a few seconds students funnel in taking seats. “Mr. Styles?” Harry looks up at the voice not knowing who it belongs to, after all it’s only the third day. “Yes?” He answers standing from his desk and closing the few inch gap between him and front of the classroom. “Are you married?” All the students look at him curiously. Harry is confused as to why they’d ask but simply says “No. Probably won’t ever get married f’I’m honest.” with a shrug he lets it go but it just leads to more questions being asked. Luckily for him the second bells rings and announcements start so the classroom is brought to a complete silence.

. . . . . .

Thank you for reading! Next part will be up soon so stick around. xx

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