Tim King learns a lesson. Karen gets a lesson. A revised version of a previously submitted tale.

Teaching in any school is a difficult task, and being a substitute filling in near the end of a school year can be even more arduous.

Karen Martin knew this quite well, although she had been away from the classroom for quite a while pursuing a Master’s degree in Education. Among other things, there were students’ names to remember, their quirks, school rules, etc. All combined to make for difficulties, plus she was taking the place of another teacher in a subject she hadn’t taught for a long spell. And the biggest headache of all was Tim King! He had almost driven her out of teaching. He was a disrespectful, unmannerly, disruptive, spitball throwing, foul-mouthed juvenile delinquent in the making, and now he was in her homeroom. She had tried, tried, and could not get rid of him.

"Hey, Miss Martin. Gina Thomas, Social Studies. You’re History, aren’t you? I’ve got the classroom next to yours, mind if I walk down with you?"

"Yes, mostly Nineteenth Century. No, I don’t mind! So, what’s it like here?"

"Great! The Principal backs all the teachers 100%. The students are, for the most part, really great. Oh, you do have a few misfits, but they are the minority. Hey, I hear you got lucky!"

"How’s that?"

"You got Tim King in your homeroom."

"Lucky! You have got to be kiddin’, he was a menace some time ago! Nearly drove me out."

"Well, honey, he’s the nicest, kindest kid I’ve ever met. Helps tutor some of the less-gifted younger students. He’s stopped several schoolyard fights. Oh, here we are. Are you lunch monitor this week?"

"No, I’ve got that dubious duty the week after next!" The pair stopped in front of a classroom of boisterous children. "See you later, at lunch."

Karen watched Gina enter, before proceeding to her own room.

She entered the room, looked at the class, and wrote her name on the chalkboard. She quickly spotted her niece, Angela, talking to a boy who appeared to be explaining something in a book he had. "Tim King! With a book! And Angela was with him. What’s happening," Karen thought. The sight of Tim King with a book was unnerving; she just hoped it wasn’t a book on urban terrorism, although he probably could write one.

Tim looked up and saw the teacher at the front of the room. "Please excuse me, Angela, there’s something I’ve got to do!" He walked to the front of the room, coughed to get Karen’s attention, and said, "Miss Martin, I want to apologize to you for all those stupid things I’ve done in the past. I was a child and I acted like one. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry and if I do the slightest thing out-of-line, please send a note home to my mother. I will try to do everything in my power to make you proud you are my instructor!" With that said, Tim extended his hand.

Karen was in shock. She sat catching flies for a while, before taking his hand and shaking it. "I don’t know what to say . . . I accept your apology and I hope to be a teacher you’ll remember in your old age!"

With that pronouncement, the bell rang and the school day started. The class was the usual mix of nerds, Goths, jocks, suits, prom princesses and misfits. She introduced herself, heard the usual groans, questions about what happened to their regular teacher, and there was the taking of the roll, announcements of various kinds, and talk of athletic rallies filled in ’til the first bell rang.

Watching the class leave for their various destinations, Karen enjoyed a bit of pleasure that she was now back where she felt she belonged. Her first period class was starting to file in and Karen noticed Angela walking in with Tim. "I wonder if he knows she’s my niece and is trying to get on my good side," she mused. "Well," she said to herself, "better start earning my pay!"

The day went especially well, and time just seemed to fly by. Lunch period came, and Karen met Gina in the teacher’s lunchroom, just to the side of the student’s. There she got a surprise!

"Hey, Karen! Long time, no see." The voice was as familiar to her as her own. "Lena, Chuck. How are you?" It was back just after she started teaching that she met them: Lena and Charles Lohmann. Lena was a Phys-Ed instructor; Charles, Chuck to his closest friends, was mathematics -- Geometry, Trigonometry, beginning Calculus. They were both well aware of Tim King and the trouble he got into.

"Heard you got the mystery student," Lena said. Chuck followed with, "He’s as much a puzzle to me as income taxes!" All his friends kidded him about his inability to do simple taxes.

"Yep. I got him." The four sat and ate, talking about Tim King.

Gina asked, "Was he really a bad kid?"

"Bad wouldn’t cover half of it. He was rotten to the core, and then some!" The three then told of his exploits in graphic detail.

Gina shook her head. "I just can’t believe it. He’s so nice now. What made him change?"

Lena replied, "That, my dear girl, is the big mystery."

Soon it was time to return to classes, and the school day quickly came to a close. Karen drove home thinking about the changes in one Tim King (“He actually participated in class, asking very pointed questions”).

Meanwhile, Angela rode the school bus home holding hands with her best friend, Tim.

A routine developed, and time as it does passed quickly. Karen soon found that Tim King was not only true to his word; he was also an excellent student.

Ever since Angela started to spend more time with Tim, her grades shot up from just a C average to B+ to A+.

Over time, Karen observed Tim whenever she had a chance. Once, in a hallway, she saw him walking, not swaggering, toward her with two girls. Tim greeted her with, "Good afternoon, Ms. Martin." As he proceeded on, she noted how confident he looked. On another occasion, she saw Tim take on two bullies, who were annoying some younger girls, and soon had both running. "Well, one thing’s for sure," she mused, "Tim is no coward. What punishment could he fear so much that he would do anything to avoid it? What did he get that changed him so much!"

Still the mystery persisted. What changed a future gangster into a future Archaeologist-Historian-Senator? And how! She was starting to believe in alien abductions; she had to satisfy her curiosity -- what happened!!!!

It was several weeks later, on a Friday, after school, when Angela came in with a "Hi Aunt Karen! Tim’s mother would like to meet you."

"Well, this is a switch. Usually it’s the teacher who wants to meet the parent," Karen thought. "Well, I’m free tomorrow. Would that be okay with her?"

Angela thought for a moment prior to asking, "You’re curious about Tim’s change, aren’t you?"

"It has been on my mind, yeah."

"I’ll call Tim and his mom. Maybe they’ll explain or let you see for yourself."

Angela went to the phone, dialed Tim’s number from memory, and sat talking for a while. Apparently, they had come to some sort of a conclusion. Angela hung up the phone, turned to Karen and said, "Can you go over about eleven-thirty, and I’ll see you over there. I think you’ll learn a lot, maybe more than you should. Auntie, please don’t be judgmental."

"Whatever for? Whatever happened to Tim, it has made a better person of him, and I, for one, am glad it did. If I thought he wasn’t right for you, I would have done my best to keep you from him. Ever since your parents died, I’ve been looking out for you, I want the best for you, and since you’ve been seeing Tim, you seem to be happier, more carefree. He seems to bring out the best in you. Actually, come to think of it, he has done a lot for me too. I actually love going to school to teach, to watch them when they understand how history affected our country. It’s kids like Tim that make me want to teach them more, and, conversely, to learn more myself!" After the speech, Karen thought, "At last, I’ll know. This mystery will soon be history."

The next morning, Angela had a breakfast and before she left she said, "I’ll see you at Mrs. King’s house about eleven-thirty or so. You do know how to get there, don’t you?"

“Afraid not, sweetie.”

There was a quick exchange of directions, and Karen soon figured out her drive.

At about eleven-fifteen, Karen got into her car and drove the short distance to Mrs. King’s house. She parked in the driveway, walked to the door, and knocked.

The woman who answered the door appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with black hair, green eyes, well made-up, and a very distinguished appearance. Karen felt out of place, wearing a white blouse, jeans and running shoes.

"Come in. You must be Karen, Angela’s aunt. She’s told me all about you!"

"Mrs. King, I am so pleased to finally meet you."

"Connie, please! I don’t like formality among friends. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. We can sit and talk about Timmy’s school work."

"Well, I don’t know where to . . . What’s that odor?"

"Tim is probably cutting some onions for the salad."

"Tim is making lunch?"

Connie laughed, "Yes, he has cooked dinner on many occasions. He also sews, embroiders, knits and does other housework."

"WHAT! A boy who does housework? You mean he can do that?"

"Let’s have a lunch, and I’ll show you all you want, or maybe don’t want, to know." Saying that, they adjourned to a cloth-covered kitchen table. There was a tuna salad, a shrimp salad, cold fried chicken, filled glasses of lemonade, and homemade chocolate-chip cookies.

Karen sat there and ate like there was no tomorrow. "Did Tim make all this? He should be giving lessons in Home-Ec. I am getting stuffed, but everything is just so delicious."

"He cooks like this all the time."

Karen glanced at Tim. He appeared to be taking no notice of the conversation, being more interested in taking care of Angela. He refilled her glass of lemonade several times, and her plate was restocked (without her needing to ask, Karen noted) as well.

"Karen, let’s go into the living room and talk. Angela, you and Tim go up and get ready!"

Karen followed Connie as she walked into a large sunny room. She sat, waited until Karen was comfortable, and began her story. "Tim was a rather good boy until his father decided to leave me for another, younger, woman. I’m afraid that he believed I chased his father away. He began to fall in with a bad crowd. To fit in, he had to show them he was as rough as they were. His grades started to fall and he was constantly in trouble. I didn’t know what to do. I was at my wits’ end. Finally, I called my sister; she said -- send him to me. I asked what she was going to do. She said, ‘Did you ever hear of Petticoat Punishment?’ and she explained it to me. Well, I sent him to her for a summer, and again the next summer.”

“Excuse me. Petticoat Punishment? I don’t understand, Connie.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, as my sister explained it it’s a form of behavior modification.”

Please explain — I hope it isn’t some kind of psyche torture.”

“Not at all. What she did was dress Tim in girl’s clothing. He had access only to his cousin’s hand-me-downs. Once he learned to walk and talk in a more feminine fashion, he was taken out shopping and given the opportunity to select his own attire. For a while, sis allowed him to meet only certain selected people. He was protected at all times, and was allowed to think he risked exposure as a pansy or sissy-boy in a dress.”

“I’m having a hard time understanding how a dress might help make such drastic changes.”

Connie smiled. She replied, “Think about it . . . here’s a boy in a dress out in public, people all around. He has to act the part of a well-mannered girl to avoid all those pointing fingers and laughing. Over a period of time, he learns new behaviors, sorta like learning to survive on an island somewhere.”

“I think I get it now. But why twice, Connie?”

“First time he didn’t want to go, second time he was anxious to go. He was even counting the days.

“Sis told me he was reluctant at first dressing in panties and training bra, then his cousins kinda helped him along. If he did well, he was rewarded; when he made a mistake, he was gently corrected.”

“And the uncle. Didn’t he object?”

“Who do you think suggested it in the first place? He’s just about the nicest person you’d ever want to meet. Oh, here they come.”

Karen turned to look, saw her niece, and a very pretty girl standing beside her. The girl was dressed in a light blue jumper, a ruffle-edged feminine apron, lime green blouse, pair of blue pumps with one-inch heels, and knee-hi stockings. A double strand of pearls circled her neck. She had very little makeup on, just enough to bring out her natural beauty, and her light auburn hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves. Startled she blurted out, "I didn’t know you had a daughter? She’s quite pretty."

Angela stifled a laugh. "Aunt Karen, I would like you to meet my very best boy- and girlfriend, Tammy!"

Now this was an unexpected development. Then, suddenly, the light went on for Karen. "This is Timmy? I don’t believe it. My God, you’re beautiful!"

Connie remarked, "Don’t they make a cute pair!"

”I see it now. Yes, I do agree. He . . . em, she is just, well 95% perfect.”

"I’ll work on that other 5%. Thank you very much," Timmy, now Tammy, replied, with a curtsey. "Mother always told me that having a pretty girlfriend is a privilege I must earn."

Karen sat there, watching as the two ‘girls’ cleared up the area. She now knew everything.

"Aunt Karen," Angela asked, "please, keep this a secret. If any of those bullies at school find out, Tim will be in trouble all the time. It’s not that he can’t take very good care of himself and me."

"Angela, darling, I will never do anything to hurt you or any of your friends! And I consider Tammy, or Timmy, your friend. He or she is welcome at our house anytime."

The rest of the afternoon was a delight. Angela showed Karen all the pictures of Tammy and his mother taken in various locations in the city. Tammy, for her part, brought in her sewing, knitting and the doll’s clothes she made, of which she was especially proud.

Connie explained, "Tammy makes these for the children’s ward at the hospital."

It was getting late, and Connie suggested dinner at a local restaurant. "Well, now you know. Too bad you have to keep this a secret."

"Yes," Karen said, waiting for the girls, who had gone upstairs to get ready for the restaurant. She had already forgotten that Tammy was a boy. "I just can’t believe the change it made in him."

She watched as two delightful visions, in pink dresses, petticoats and stockings, descended the stairs.

Karen smiled at Tammy, and remarked, "It’s amazing the change in you. Once I wouldn’t come within a mile of you, now I’m going out with you, your mother, and my niece."

Tammy remarked, smiling, "I’ve learned my lessons, the hard way."

Karen wanted to get in a little dig. "Now, I guess now when you’re a bad boy, your mother threatens to put you in panties, petticoats and dresses."

Tammy and Angela giggled. Connie explained, "No, Karen, when he’s bad, I take away his panties, petticoats and dresses!"

The End.