Ms. Bogsmirch
By Audrey Yip
When I think of Ms. Bogsmirch, I see her lanky, long silhouette dragging along the school halls, shoulders and forearms swinging wildly, her neck extending beyond the rest of her body like a vulture in search of prey. Your body locks in place the moment she makes eye contact with you, fear crawling up your spine and on your skin, pulse racing to its limits regardless of how innocent you are.
I still remember the first time my class had Ms. Bogsmirch as a teacher.
I was never taught anything in her class, except that her favourite insults included “Ignorant idiots!” or “Blundering buffoons!”. If we ever gave an ‘unacceptable’ answer or attempted to rebut her, my ears would be ringing at the end of the lesson, for we would be berated however long as she pleased as she drivelled on about how disappointed she was at us or how inferior we were to her or how amazing she was to be able to deal with us.
Once, I decided to respond to her question which resulted in her drilling her propaganda directly at me, her shrill voice stabbing into my eardrums, her brown-turned-red eyes glaring through my cornea and into my soul. I burst into tears in front of the whole class, and in the snarkiest voice I have ever heard, she said, “You poor puppet, this is why you need me as your teacher!”
That was exactly what Ms. Bogsmirch wanted. She wanted every single one of us to be crushed and hopeless beyond repair, crying and begging at her feet for forgiveness while we praised her. That was the ‘re-education’ we received from Ms. Bogsmirch.
After being free from her grasp for a few years, I was unfortunate enough to be in her class yet again, this time as a freshman high school student.
Walking into Ms. Bogsmirch’s classroom, much of it was left as I remembered: poorly lit and gloomy, smelling of musk and the bitter odour of leftover drinks in neglected mugs lined up at her desk. I still caught a faint whiff of rotting cheese- the result of Ms. Bogsmirch’s habit of walking barefoot around the classroom. I could smell the fear and anxiety I left behind in this room many years ago. But this time, it was different. I felt confident despite the goosebumps on my arm, because this time, I was sure I would take her down with the secret card I had hidden up my sleeve.
“We’re doing an activity where you write what you want your future to be, you bombastic brats,” Ms. Bogsmirch said in her high grating voice.
Once everyone completed the task, we carefully and gently placed the notes on her desk, in fear of arousing the attention of the terrifying dragon.
As Ms. Bogsmirch sifted through the paper, she scoffed and said, “It’s so amusing to me when I see lousy losers like you lot, saying they want to study medicine, because do you even know how difficult this subject is?”
The class entered a stiff silence as Ms. Bogsmirch tilted her head downwards and glared at us, rolling her eyes so high into her forehead you could very nearly only see her eye whites.
Ms. Bogsmirch then stuck her nose in the air and puffed her chest haughtily like a toad, boasting, “I studied a bit of biology in university too. In fact, my brother became a microbiologist, and I highly doubt any of you would be of his calibre.”
Seeing her so smug, so full of herself made me boil with anger. How could this woman live so happily with not even an ounce of regret for what she has done to her students? As I thought about the humiliation she put me through, I was fuelled with the indignation and courage to ask, “...Then is that why you’re not a scientist?”
“Excuse me?!” Her head whipped around so fast that even students at the back of the class could hear the bones in her neck cracking.
Huffing and puffing, Ms. Bogsmirch took out a book of practice questions for a senior high school exam. She pointed her stick-like finger towards me, screeching, “You! Answer the question if you’re so smart.”
“I heard about this recently, it’s actually the result of a rare natural phenomenon,” I explained, before reciting the answer I had prepared, knowing she would use this exact threat from alumni. Furious that I even knew what the question was about, Ms. Bogsmirch became a pot at its boiling point, turning into a deep shade of red as steam escaped out of her ears with a loud hissing noise.
As she got redder and redder, Ms. Bogsmirch got larger and larger. At this point, it was clear- Ms. Bogsmirch was inflating like a balloon, she was rising out of her chair and slowly bouncing out of the room.
“You, YOU- YOU MUST HAVE CHEATED!” She exploded as she squeezed through the window with a ‘pop!’; much like a cork bursting from a champagne bottle.
“Wow! Ms. Bogsmirch, you’re flying!” I exclaimed.
The students all stood up in shock and delight, some adapting quickly to the supernatural scene and even applauding it.
“SIT DOWN! HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT ME YOU INSOLENT INSECTS!” she continued to shout, her screeching gradually dimming in the wind as she began to float freely in the air.
Still as red as a cherry, Ms. Bogsmirch was longer the intimidating, undefiable teacher. She was but a stray balloon in the sky, floating higher and higher until she was never to be seen again. Watching her flail her arms helplessly, I gleefully celebrated this victorious revenge- much to the thanks of some strange liquid and flashcards I obtained from a mysterious alumnus.
Photo by Harry letter.