The Unteachables
Who are the unteachables? What is mean, exactly, by that term. These questions are answered early on in metaphor form:
“The Unteachables are the dummy class. We have a couple of groups like that in my middle school in California too. We call them the Disoriented Express, but it’s the same thing.”
Mateo’s Metaphors
Mateo’s discourse is highly engaged with figurative language. That language is almost always—well, okay, always—infused with a pop culture sensibility. He has the gift to make just about everything a metaphor-laden pop culture allusion:
“The teachers don’t want us anywhere near the soda machine. They think giving us sugar is like sprinkling water on the Gremlins.”
Stepmonster
Almost the first word in the text is Stepmonster. This is Kiana’s metaphorical nickname for her stepmother. Her real mother—referred to less expressively as Mom—is away in Utah shooting the movie which, by novel’s end, might just be The Big One. But for now, it is just a movie with a budget that does not allow for on-set tutors to teach the kids of the cast. And so Kiana gets stuck with her stepmother and the rest of the unteachables.
Ripped from the Headlines
Mr. Kermit is used to be in the news. First, his name is unfairly splashed all over the newspapers because of a cheating scandal he had nothing to do with other being the teacher of a criminal-in-training. Then, one he’s attained redemption he didn’t even require, he gets fired. Which puts his name into the newspapers once again, this time dipped into the white chocolate of positive metaphorical imagery:
“It’s the goal of every community to create a school system in which each pupil is inspired to excel. This can’t be accomplished without great teachers. But an educator who can truly transform the lives of his or her students is the rarest of gems. Meet Mr. Zachary Kermit.”
Mr. Kermit’s Kryptonite
Mr. Kermit has a secret weapon at his disposal: nothing very much bothers him very much. This superpower derives from a quickening pace of burnout and diminished interest in his job other than reaching the magic point where early retirement meets lifelong pension benefits. There is one element which is capable of disturbing the balance in the force of Mr. Kermit to keep the daily terrors of teaching middle schoolers at bay, however: vuvuzelas, plastic horns resembling a trumpet which originated in Africa, but are now easily found in party supply stores.
“Already, those South African air horns from Hades have begun to sound in the halls. Once the mother lode is passed out, the noise will be beyond imagination.”
