Chapter 2 - The Perks of Being A Doormat teacher R18+

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Chapter 2

Tuesday was my first day as a tutor. I was actually looking forward to it a little by this point, and for perfectly innocent reasons. Sure, I had some fantasies about something happening, but I didn't really expect to do anything but help Stephanie through her problems with math. That itself was a happy prospect to me. I guess that's one of the reasons I'm a bit of a pushover, because I do like genuinely helping people out. It boosted my ego to think that Stephanie might, someday, have me to thank for getting into college.

Before she arrived, I spent a good there hours cleaning up my place, since I was a bachelor, so she wouldn't think I was some kind of disgusting freak. Then, I heard somebody coming up the stairs.

I lived in an apartment above a set of stores. However, I was my landlord's favorite client, because I was his only one. The Economy had been in a slump, and the store below had been vacant for a while, and of the other three apartments you could reach from the stairwell that connected to the street, the last tenant moved out two months ago. So when I heard somebody coming up the stairs, I figured they were coming to see me. I was correct. A soft knock rapped at my door. I got up and opened it.

Stephanie stood in the door, one hand on her book bag, and looking down shyly, or sadly, not meeting my eye. She wore a school uniform. A blue skirt, coming down to just above the knee, and a vest over a plain white shirt and tie, and a jacket over both. "Hi," she said. It didn't seem to be a very happy hello.

"Hi," I said. "Why don't you come in?"

She shook her head when I offered her a drink, and had a seat at the desk. I stared at her knees for a moment before forcing my gaze away… she didn't seem to notice. She wouldn't look at me at all. "How was school?" I asked, in an attempt to break the ice.

She shrugged. "It was okay."

Another awkward silence stretched before us. I tried again. "Look, I know you probably don't want to be here," I said. "I understand, believe me. You'd rather be hanging out with your friends, or with your boyfriend or something, but…"

She still wouldn't look at me. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "I would have figured you'd be chasing boys off with a stick."

"I'm not allowed to," she said. I thought she was blushing. "Not until I'm sixteen."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry." And I was, that seemed like it was way too unfair, but then, Grace was really religious and strict. I tried to regain my train of thought. "Well, anyway, I know you'd rather be doing something else. But we're here, so I'll try to help you with your problem, okay?"

She didn't say anything. Teenagers, I guess. I remembered the days where I barely spoke more than two words to anyone more than 5 years older than me. "Is there anything in particular you have trouble with?" She shrugged. I just about gave up. "Okay, well, do you have any of your old homework? Maybe I can try to figure out where you're going wrong."

"Okay," she said, and reached into her bag. She dug around for nearly a minute, then pulled out a few sheets and handed them to me.

I told her she should get started on her new homework while I looked it over, and I started reading through her old work. It was kind of a blast from the past… it had been a while since I'd done math that simple, and some of it I had barely used since leaving high school.

Surprisingly, the homework, from about a week prior, didn't look that bad. From the scores the teacher gave, I didn't see much reason for needing a tutor at all. It wasn't perfect, but many of the problems seemed to be simple errors where a negative number was used instead of a positive, or a step was skipped. It wasn't the homework of a failing student.

I took a peek over her shoulder. She was still struggling on the first one, scratching out her failed attempts several times. It had been several minutes. Either she was really slow, or she didn't know how to do it. I had a theory.

"Stephanie?" I said. She jumped at the sound of my voice, sitting straight up. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Uh… sure," she said. She looked at me, but her eyes were focused on my chest instead of meeting my gaze.

"Do you copy your homework answers from your friends, or the back of the book?" Everybody did it when I was her age. Even I did… not because I didn't know the answers, but because I found the homework to be pointless busy work. Once I understood how the equations worked, it was just a chore to do it 60 times.

Her response was swift, and she looked at me directly for the first time in several minutes. "No!" she said.

I thought she might be afraid of me telling her Mom. "Listen, Stephanie. I'm here to help you. To do that I need to know the truth about what's going wrong. So I'm going to make you a promise. No matter what you tell me here in a tutoring session, I won't tell on you, okay? I won't tell your Mom, my parents, your teacher, nobody. I swear. Do you believe me?" She nodded. "Okay, so did you copy off your friends?"

"No," she said again. "I wouldn't do that. It's cheating. I swear to God."

I believed her, suddenly. "Okay," I said with a sharp exhalation. "It's just your homework doesn't seem to be very bad here. If you did all the work here, there shouldn't be any reason you'd fail on a test. And you seemed to be having trouble on the new homework." She went back to not answering me. "Okay, obviously I'm no good at this. Maybe we should just tell your mother this won't work out. In the meantime, is there anything specific you're having trouble with in the new homework?"

I thought she wasn't going to say anything again, but finally, when I was about to throw up my hands, she said, "I just have so much trouble concentrating sometimes."

"You do?" She nodded. "Well, that's not so bad. It's something you can work on." Or maybe she should ask her mother about being checked for ADD, but I didn't want to bring that up yet. "So you don't pay attention in class because you're distracted, and I guess it takes a while after class for you to learn it again from the book?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Okay. I'll try to think of ways to help with the concentration issue. In the meantime, maybe it would be best if we try to go over today's lesson again so you can get through your homework."

She opened up her textbook, and found where she had left off. I sat next to her on the couch, so we could both read it at the same time.

It was still pretty easy stuff, just a little more complicated than what she'd already been doing. I tried my best to explain it, and although she was quiet and didn't interrupt, she was fidgeting a lot and I wondered if I was getting through. We moved back to the homework afterwards.

She was still doing poorly. I tried not to just give her the answers, since it wouldn't help her at all. I would just to check her at each step and let her come to the answer herself. But she kept making mistakes, and it wasn't any one unifying misunderstanding that I could detect and correct.

It took quite a long time to get through the problems in her homework, and by that time, I was pretty frustrated. "Look," I said. "I'm obviously no good with this tutoring thing, and these concentration problems you're having might be more serious than I can help with. I think I should tell your mother to get you tested for ADD."

"No!" she pleaded. "Please! I'll try harder next time." Then a flash of anger crossed her face. "You swore you wouldn't say anything about what I told you."

She had me there. "You're right. And I always try to keep my word." She calmed down a little at that. "But I really think you should talk to her about this. There's no shame in it. And at the very least, you need a better tutor than me."

"No, you were helping fine," she said. "Can't we try again? I promise I'll do better next time. Please?" She looked me right in the eyes and gave me that little helpless look I have trouble resisting on a female face. "Please?"

I sighed. "Okay, we'll give it one more try. But that's enough for today."

Later, her mother called me, and I warned her again that I might not be the right person for a job, but she thanked me for trying and made another appointment for Thursday

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