#3 Teachers have creative punishments

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Rule #3: A teacher is creative with her punishments.

That one seemed a little different from the rest. The last two rules had been very obvious, but their focus had primarily been on student success; but now, here was a rule focused on discipline. Obviously, it is not helpful for her students to fear punishment for their actions, but if she could choose the right punishment, maybe she could reach her students in new ways. After all, she had always loved discipline. One of her guilty pleasures of the job was to send a talkative student to the principal's office and see them walk off with their tail between their legs.

“Loving the outfit, Mrs. L,” Jose said as he entered the classroom.

At this point in the day, she had honestly forgotten she was wearing her new ripped jeans and the purple shirt which proclaimed to the world that she had "paused her game to be here." She had received some odd looks from the rest of the staff, and even Principal Smith had confronted her about it, but when Mrs. Laucella had explained that she was trying to be helpful, he and the rest of the staff just nodded their heads. Her students were more giggly than usual, but just upon hearing her stern voice, they would realize that her outfit was not a show of immaturity, but rather a testament to her newfound relatability.

“Thank you, Jose. I see you are also trying out a new look.” She looked the shorter teenager up and down as she spoke. He wore a tank top which showed his strong arms and a pair of boxer briefs. It was like he had worn his pajamas to work.

“Yeah, I accidentally forgot to change before coming to school, so I didn’t realize I was still in my PJs.” His tone was apologetic, but his eyes were mischievous as he continued. “I don’t know, Mrs. Laucella. I just feel terrible, like the lowest of the low.” He said the last part with his head in his hands. Though she couldn’t see it, his eyes were peeking between his fingers to see how his attractive teacher would assimilate the new information.

“Well, Jose, I have an extra jacket in my car if you want to cover up, and then maybe you’ll feel better,” she said, trying to be genuinely helpful.

“I’m not putting on someone else’s clothes,” he said, his head still firmly nestled into his arms.

Mrs. Laucella thought that maybe she could send him to the nurse's office where they always have spare clothes, and then she thought she remembered seeing him earlier that day with a hoodie and sweatpants. However, she believed Lyle wouldn’t know that, so the thoughts popped out of her head like bubbles and were replaced by a new one. She grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk and got to cutting dutifully like a woman automaton. Right now, one of her students was embarrassed because of his clothing. If she was dressed more embarrassingly than he was, then that would drop the overall level of the class and everyone could focus on learning again. She almost laughed at the genius of her plan, despite her lower intelligence.

When all was said and done, she had turned her new jeans and T-shirt into a ragged tank top, cropped right above her belly button, and had turned her jeans into Daisy Dukes, which she had cut to end right below her butt cheeks. She forgot to account that any sort of movement would see them lift higher and showcase the curvature of her ass underneath the new cutoffs. She got up and knocked on Jose’s desk to get his attention. When he looked up, he was met with a nice up-shirt view of her bra-clad tits. For a minute, he was speechless.

“Now you’re not so embarrassed anymore, right?” she said as she gave a twirl, causing the edge of her granny panties to pop out from below the loose fabric.

“I’m less embarrassed,” he said, regaining his confidence, “but Mrs. Laucella, I’m not wearing a bra.”

And that was how Mrs. Laucella found herself with her large breasts bouncing around as she tried her hardest to explain to the class that the United States is a country and not a town, and that it is neighbors with... but that was as far as she got, as Lyle thought the answer was the Fire Nation, so Mexico and Canada left her seventh-period brain forever.

“Gentlemen,” she said, stomping her foot, “we need to focus up.” She was keenly aware of the movement of her breasts, as they threatened to pop out from all sides of her shirt. “I understand I don’t know a lot, but we’re still here to learn, and you gentlemen need to learn to not just stare at a woman’s breasts.”

“Breasts?” said Peter with a confused expression.

“Yeah,” Terrence said. “Words like breasts seem like you’re trying to be linguistically superior to us.”

She supposed they made a good point about superiority, but she had an important question, so she raised her hand.

“Yes, Mrs. Laucella?” Jose asked.

“What’s a linguistic?”

Jackson answered confidently, saying, “It’s like your word choice and shit. Like me personally, I would never say breast.”

“Language, Jackson!” she said.

“See, that’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Jose said. “Think about how crazy it is that you’re holding these rules on appropriateness over our heads when you’re dumb as bricks and dressed like that.”

She wanted to argue, but he was right. He was smarter than her in her current state, and she was definitely not dressed like someone who could care too much about appropriateness.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you all to think that I’m superior to you, so I guess inappropriate language is... okay.”

“Then say it again,” Jackson said while he ran his hands through his hair and scrolled through his phone.

“Say what?”

“Tell us,” now he looked directly at her eyes before letting his gaze wander intentionally down, “what is it that you don’t want us to look at?”

“I want you to stop looking at my boobs,” she said, covering her chest with her arms, causing her boob flesh to squeeze partially out of the side of her makeshift tank top.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Laucella, I didn’t hear you,” said Jose, also staring daggers at her chest.

“I said to stop staring at my big fucking titties!” she said, cupping them and giving them a shake for emphasis. That will get the message across, she thought. “And you know what? For all your staring, all of you shitheads are in trouble. All of you are going to make a music video apologizing to me for your blatant sexism.”

Jose started laughing. “That’s a pretty creative punishment, I guess. But I was actually thinking of something else.”

“I’m not interested in your opinion. If you and your friends are going to stare at my bouncing melons, you have to face the consequences.”

Jose seemed shocked that she didn’t listen to him, so he added, “But I hate music videos, and you said you wouldn’t make us fear punishment for our actions.”

The rest of the class shouted their agreement, and the half-dressed teacher did remember agreeing to that in order to be helpful.

“You’re right,” she said. “I apologize. Give me a second to think of a better punishment.” She tried to rack her mind for her years of teaching experience, but everything seemed rather foggy.

It was Peter who finally said, “Mrs. Laucella, it was wrong of you to try and punish us like that.”

“I agree, Peter, and that’s why I said I was sorry.”

“But when we do something wrong,” Peter said, “we get punished, so shouldn’t you be punished too?”

“I suppose you’re right. I guess I could write myself up for the principal,” she said, sitting down, suddenly ashamed of her actions.

“Why don’t we come up with something?” Jose said. “Work on our creativity.”

Mrs. Laucella smiled at her student's initiative. Maybe my most troublesome student has the potential to be a teacher, she thought. Without even looking, he understood the third rule of the teacher guidelines almost perfectly.

“That’s a great idea, Jose! You guys decide how you want to punish your bitch teacher.” She thought of working on her lesson plans, but that seemed pretty hard, so she took out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram.

Meanwhile, the boys deliberated for a while about her punishment. Jose occasionally would say something along the lines of “my hard work” and something like that, but Mrs. Laucella was currently too distracted by a funny cat to really pay attention. Finally, it was Lyle who spoke up.

“Look, this is stressing me out. Can’t we just pick something?”

Mrs. Laucella rose to her feet, walked over to Lyle, got on her knees, and started undoing his shoelaces.

“What the fuck is going on?” he said.

“Well, you're stressed,” she said, taking off his dirty socks and folding them neatly, “and it’s very helpful to give foot massages when someone’s stressed.” Her hands, which had days ago written one of the best modern papers on education strategies, took her worst student's foot and massaged deep through his soles, her breasts occasionally rubbing against his leg from the proximity. She added, “I’m sorry I don’t have a beer to give you.”

The class all looked shocked at the scene below them. Jose suddenly spoke up.

“I think I have the perfect punishment.”