Mrs. Locrian drove to the daycare in a bright pink sedan and parked in between two parking spots, almost running over a little girl in a tea-party dress. She honked at the girl and her enraged mother for a good minute before stepping out and strutting off into the building. The tea-party girl was gawking, wide eyed.
Mrs. Locrian pushed open the door to classroom 12. The kindergarteners stared a bit, for they were all out of their seats, and Mrs. Locrian was also sixteen minutes late.
“Good morning, class,” she said, smiling sweetly.
The class was silent. A little boy with bronze curls began to cry.
They began their lesson with an introduction on nucleic acid structures - Mrs. Locrian could not get her class to pronounce even the name, so they moved on to studying how a pneumatic sofa worked. By the one hour mark, not only had her class learned nothing, they were also wailing and rolling around on the carpet. Mrs. Locrian, seeing so little progress, set it in her mind that her students were purposefully being stubborn towards her, and held them all in for recess.
Peter had cried out, “Why, but we’ve hardly finished our multiplication tables!”
And Wendy had yelled, “Can’t you give us a rest?”
And Michael had just sat down and wept.
After school, a fuming Mrs. Locrian attended a mandatory meeting, from which she learned that there would soon be a ‘best teacher of the year’ award, which she wasn’t paying much attention to. She was thinking of all the sharp witty things she should have said to her pupils. The principal announced that the participants in this activity were chosen by himself near the end of the meeting, and then read off the names from a tiny slip of paper.
“Mrs. Wence,” he called out.
There was a bit of scattered clapping.
The principal, with a cough, said, “Mr. Alamore,” and then, “Mrs. Tyson.”
The door slammed open, suddenly, and a custodian with a cart rolled by, keeping his head down. He pushed open another door and continued his way.
Clearing his throat, the principal read, “Mrs. Locrian.”
Mrs. Locrian sat up with a start, and then a swell of pride overcame her. She, one of the best teachers! (Mrs. Locrian was only selected because she had been kissing up to the principal for three years - she was his personal barista.)
“Ms. Goldman, you will be our last participant,” the principal called out. There were a few murmurs of disappointment.  “Well, these five wonderful teachers will be representing our school. Will the chosen teachers please come to a meeting next Monday, in the city hall? The final elimination will be then. Until then - I wish you luck!”

After the meeting, Ms. Goldman came to Mrs. Locrian, which was well expected. Ms. Goldman was one of those people that took pride in speaking their mind. She had once been fired from a nearby elementary school for saying something rude about the principal’s outfit.
Ms. Goldman said to Mrs. Locrian, “I think I might win this competition. My rivals are all soft, for that matter. Mr. Alamore, a participant? Honestly!” She sighed as if she was genuinely brought down by the principal’s lack of judgement.
Mrs. Locrian shifted uncomfortably.
Mrs. Locrian said, “You might have a few …  tougher … competitors.”
Now, it was Ms. Goldman’s turn to look uncomfortable.
“Who?” she asked, frowning.
Mrs. Locrian said, “I have just a good a chance as you, you know.”
“We’ll see by Monday,” soothed Ms. Goldman, in the same sort of tone you would say to a child that wanted to live with the birds on the clouds.
Mrs. Locrian pursed her lips. “My rivals are very soft as well. But we’ll see by Monday.”
Ms. Goldman managed a smile.
“Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth. “We will see by Monday.”

When Mrs. Locrian came to school the next day, it was Wednesday, making it story day. Every Wednesday, students would gather in the library and listen to three stories, read by three teachers.
To cement her place as the best teacher, Mrs. Locrian had prepared a heartfelt story that she was sure the students would love - Bambi. She had never actually read the book, but she heard on social media that it was full of love and compassion and love or something and other. She figured if she read a story about love, she would receive love.
When Mrs. Wence finished her story, called The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar, Mrs. Locrian walked towards the reading chair with her nose in the air.
“The story I’m going to be reading today,” she said, sitting down, “is called Bambi.”
“I love Bambi!” said John.
Lily shouted, “Hey, isn’t that the story about that Llama who couldn’t fly?”
Forcing a smile, Mrs. Locrian said, “No; Bambi is a story about a deer named Bambi.”
Nobody said anything.
“Alright, well,” she started. “Bambi was born one sunny afternoon to see all the faces and tweets of little birds…”
And Mrs. Locrian was sure she had succeeded! The kids smiled with her and laughed with her and some even cried when Bambi’s mother was shot.
“And so,” she ended, “they lived happily ever after.” She closed the book and smiled.
Personally, Mrs. Locrian hadn’t liked Bambi much. She thought it was a bit too cliche and was actually a bit repelled by all the compassion.
As Ms. Goldman came up to take Mrs. Locrian’s place, she took out a cheap, handmade leaflet.
“Hello students!” she beamed. “Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll enjoy my story. I wrote it myself you know! It’s called ‘The Great Candy Giving Man in a Red Suit!”
The students all stared.
Still beaming, Ms. Goldman started, “Once upon a time, it was Christmas! And then a great big man in a loud red suit came up with a giant bag of candy!”
She took out a great big bag of candy.
“Then,” she continued, “he gave it out to children!”
She began to throw fistfuls of candy out into the cheering, squabbling mass of children.
“Candy!” she shouted over the noise. “Vote for me for best teacher and you’ll get all the candy you want!”
“Hey!” yelled Mrs. Locrian, stamping her foot. “That’s not fair!”
But no one even heard her over the cheering.

Soon, Mrs. Locrian was bring cupcakes to class, and jolly-ranchers, and suckers, and all kinds of unhealthy sweets. Many parents did complain that their children came home everyday with a blue tongue, but Mrs. Locrian didn’t pay any attention to them. She had more important things to be concerned with.
“Today,” announced the principal, “we will narrow our participants down to three teachers!”
The teachers clapped tentatively.
The principal then said, “Well, let’s get right into it. Our candidates will be Mr. Alamore, Ms. Goldman, and Mrs. Locrian! So let’s all give them a hand!”
A few people clapped. For the most part, teachers were looking down at their smartphones. The elimination didn’t affect them, besides. Why should they care?
In fact, Mrs. Locrian even came up to Ms. Goldman and recited a heartfelt congratulations just to peeve her off - and it should be said that she succeeded, for Ms. Goldman left feeling very confused.
On Friday afternoon, Ms. Goldman said to Mrs. Locrian, “This weekend, I plan to donate all my old clothes to that orphanage down the street. After all, I really do care about the children! I want them to grow, to flourish!”
“Oh?” replied Mrs. Locrian. “Tomorrow, I plan on donating five hundred dollars to the orphanage!”
Ms. Goldman said, slightly louder, “Well on Sunday I’m going to spend my morning picking up trash near the creek!”
“Funny!” Mrs. Locrian said. “I’m going to do the same! In fact, let us go together, shall we?”
Ms. Goldman, who had not actually planned on doing anything she had pledged, had no other choice to agree with a defiant, “Fine then!”
And then Mrs. Locrian replied, loudly, “In fact, let’s do all our activities together! Won’t that be fun?”
Helplessly furious, Ms. Goldman shouted, “Alright, fine!”
Then they turned each around and went in different directions.

On Saturday, the two teachers met at the local orphanage, which was a brick building near the local grocery store.
The lady working on the front desk was startled to see two grown women, each with a bag of clothes.
Ms. Goldman handed over a bag bulging with clothes.
“Th - thank you!” exclaimed the lady.
Mrs. Locrian then heaved onto the desk an even larger bag of clothes (most of which were pink). She relished in the moment as the lady at the front desk teemed with gratitude and Ms. Goldman seethed to her side.
Mrs. Locrian also brought out some eighty bills (she well enough could have written a check but she felt that cash was much more dramatic.)
She said, “Here. Five - hundred dollars! I do love children - I do love children!” And laughed nervously.
Smiling, Ms. Goldman brought out an enormous pile of cash. She could have written a check as well, but like Mrs. Locrian, she felt cash was much more dramatic. She donated her sum entirely in crisp one - dollar bills.
“There!” she cried. “One thousand dollars! Yes, I love children, I love children! You can tell, you know! Vote for me! Vote for me for best teacher!”
The lady at the desk took off her spectacles and began to bawl as if she were a child - but these tears were of happiness.
“No!” shouted Mrs. Locrian. “Vote for me! Didn’t you see the clothes I donated! Vote for me! For I care for children! I love them! I love them dearly!”
And any form of conversation they had ever held descended into cries of “Vote for me!” and “I love children, I really do!”

On Sunday, Ms. Goldman and Mrs. Locrian met at the creek. Both teachers weren’t sure how they got into such a position; they weren’t sure how cleaning up a creek benefited children either, but neither teacher wanted to back down.
At the one hour mark, Mrs. Locrian had filled up three trash bags, and Ms. Goldman had only filled up one (and what they picked up left them both feeling utterly revolted.)
“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Locrian. “Only one trash bag!” She shook her head and frowned. “I suppose you simply must not have the same motivation as me. See, I care deeply about the environment! It hurts me to see pollution everywhere!”
“B - bu - I’ve only just started! I’m always a bit creaky in the morning, the day isn’t done yet!” sputtered Ms. Goldman.
All volunteers were supposed to leave by one o’clock, but neither teacher wanted to be the first to leave. By eight, they both had filled up exactly fifty six trash bags.
“Do you want to leave?” asked Ms. Goldman, panting. “You look a bit weary.”
Mrs. Locrian, leaning forward with her hands on her knees, said, “No. Unless you want to leave? I’m not tired.”
“We should leave. You shouldn’t exert yourself like that!” panted Ms. Goldman.
“You keep telling yourself that,” said Mrs. Locrian as they headed toward the parking lot.

Now, it was Monday, the day the best teacher would be announced. All the students went to this assembly as well, so they could cheer on their teachers.
“I know you’ve all been waiting for this,” said the principal. Someone yawned. “Today, we will announce the winner of the ‘Best Teacher Award’!”
No one looked even mildly engaged but Mrs. Locrian and Ms. Goldman, who were both leaning forward on their seats with their hands clasped, hanging on to every word the principal said.
“The winner of the best teacher contest is,” the principal said, “Mibaweeee!”
The winner wasn’t really “Mibaweeee!”; The microphone had only broken down.
“I’m sorry!” the principal shouted without the aid of a microphone to project his voice. “What I was trying to say was that the winner is Mibakaaghkaagh!”
Again, “Mibakaaghkaagh!” wasn’t really the winner. The principal had only had a fit of coughing.
“Sorry, terribly sorry!” he shouted. “Continuing what I was saying, the winner of the best teacher contest is Ms. Goldman!”
Mrs. Locrian felt a rush of bitter disappointment. So she had lost, and Ms. Goldman had won.
And then someone shouted, “Wait! I think she’s broken a rule! It seems like she was making false promises to people that are impossible to fulfill!”
Everyone began to murmur that they’d always thought something wasn’t right (they’d never actually thought anything) and that Ms. Goldman ought to be disqualified.
“Ms. Goldman is disqualified!” the principal shouted after a while. “And this means, folks, that we have a new winner! Our winner is… Mrs. Locrian!”
But as a glowing Mrs. Locrian stood up and reveled in her glory, someone shouted, “Wait! I think she’s broken a rule too! I believe… she …  oh! Bribery? What has become of our teachers!”
And now, not only was there murmuring, but there was also laughter. Mrs. Locrian sat down, ashamed, and glanced at Ms.Goldman. A part of her immediately felt better when she saw Ms. Goldman looking so wretched.
The principal shushed everyone. He said, “I suppose we only have one more winner! Mr. Alamore, will you come up to receive your medal and five - hundred dollar check!”
Adding onto the murmuring and laughing, came clapping, and clapping came in strong and loud and fast. Mr. Alamore was laughing too.