Billy picked up the class and took them to the washroom. By now the novelty of the situation was on the wane, and the children were in full form. Two girls started smacking each other.

"Cut it out!" Billy broke it up. They went back at it. "Don't make me suspend y'all!"

"You can't suspend us, Billy Williams."

"That's Madame Billy Williams today," he corrected, "and I believe I can."

The girls turned to me for reassurance. "What cha'll lookin' at me fo'? Like what you see?" I flashed them my winning Williams smile. The girls looked at me, then Billy, laughed nervously, and fell into line.

Walking back, I followed about six feet behind the rest of the class, like Billy does.

"Come on, yo' highness!" Billy imitated.

"Dang! Dang! Always raggin' on me!" I railed.

"Five definitions."

"You hate me!" I clenched my fists. "You hate me 'cause I'm black!"

"I love you," he retorted, "but I don't always love the choices that you make."

When we returned to the classroom, Billy added a letter W to the "h-o-m-e" that was already spelled out on the board from yesterday. If it spells "homework" on Friday, that's what they get. The kids howled.

"That's for fightin' and arguin' in the hall. Ya'll know better." The kids continued to complain noisily. "Next time, you'll make a better choice," he consoled. I had to hand it to him.

"Now, Mr. Williams and elephants never forget," he sing-songed, using one of my pet phrases. "Test time."

"Oooh!" The kids complained, none louder than me.

"We ain't got to do what the teacher says! He ain't the boss of us!" I tried to incite mutiny, as Billy does whenever a test is mentioned. "He ain't said nothin' about no test!"

"Says here on the board "t-e-s-t," which I believe spells test, and "T-h-u-r-s-d-a-y," which I believe spells today, so get out your pencils, which should already be as sharp as I know your answers will be."

I nearly fainted. For a kid who doesn't do what I say, he sure hears what I say.

"Wait! Is Madame Esmé taking Billy's test?" Selena queried. Billy looked at me.

Also Today Tough lessons An interview with firebrand educator Esmé Raji Codell.   Educating Esmé: Diary of a Teacher's First Year

"Of course," I came out of character for a moment to announce, "I'll take it, as Billy would."

Billy didn't look very comfortable. "Did you study?" he asked as he handed me the test.

"Ya'll didn't say nothin' 'bout no test! Dang!"

Billy rolled his eyes.

Throughout the test, I made a point of leaning over to see Ruben's answers, tossing paper at kids' heads for their attention, and sighing audibly with frustration. Billy sent me a mixed assortment of disapproving looks. Finally, I turned in a C test, figuring that was at least a full grade above his average.

Billy took the children to lunch. I bought him a teacher's lunch, and he ate with me in the teacher's lounge. He looked funny, sitting with all the men and women in his T-shirt and tie.

"So you're the teacher today, huh!" one of the teachers quipped.

"Yes'm," he muttered.

"Doing a fabulous job, too," I added.

Billy smiled into his sloppy joe.

After lunch Billy launched into his paper airplane lesson. While he was beginning his explanation, Mr. Turner walked in. Billy was poised with a sample airplane, and I was slouched down at his desk.

"I didn't do it!" I yelled when Mr. Turner entered. The class laughed.

"Raise your hand if you have something to share," Mr. Williams corrected patiently.

Mr. Turner looked at us, one, then the other, and walked out. At the end of the day, Ms. Coil told me he came back to the office and said, "Something's going on in Cordell's room, but I'm not sure I want to know what it is."

I let Mr. Williams off the hook at the last period of the day, assigning a composition, "The Day Billy Williams Was Our Teacher." I wrote a composition during the period, too, "The Day Madame Esmé Was Billy Williams." At the end of the day, I read it to the class: How I had forgotten how hard it is not to chew gum, how uncomfortable the seats were, what a pain it is to have to go to the washroom with the class when you don't even have to go, how scary it is when you forget to study, how easy it is to feel stupid even if you're smart. I let Billy have my composition, and he took the rest of them home to grade. I looked at the one on top, by Zykrecia.

"I cant beleave she rilly did it. She said she would and she did. Billy Williams was our teacher today. He couldant really control us but other than that he did a good job. He always givin trouble well now he got some, I think he learnt a good lessin. Madam was actin just like Billy. It made me feel good that she remembers what it like. She ast me for gum but I didint have any. Maybe Ill be real bad so I can be teacher next."

After school I complimented Billy on a job well done, and that I thought he would be a fine teacher someday, if that's what he chose.

"Ain't choosin' it," he grumbled, smiling. "Too hard."

I gave Billy my old harmonica from when I was 11 and told him I'd teach him to play it, if he still wanted me for a teacher.

Note to self: Give Zykrecia some help on contractions.
salon.com | June 14, 1999

From "Educating Esmé: Diary of a Teacher's First Year" by Esmé Raji Codell. © 1999 by Esmé Raji Codell. Reprinted by permission of Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, a division of Workman Publishing.

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