The bell rang, and instantly books were slammed shut and people started to get to their feet.

“Everybody sit down!” Mrs. Tanner yelled out.

The noise lessened but didn’t stop.

She moved over to the door and took up a position directly in front of it. Nobody was leaving without going through her, and while she wasn’t big, she was formidable. Nothing short of a truck was going to move her out of the way.

I slumped down into my seat. I knew this teacher well enough to understand that she wasn’t going to be letting anybody out until she was good and ready.

“I’ve got all day!” she said. “Or at least all lunch period, so talk as long and as loudly as you want.”
Kids shushed each other until the last people sat back down and closed their mouths.

“Just because the bell rings, that doesn’t mean I’m ready to dismiss you. You so-called intelligent young people are acting more like Pavlov’s dogs,” Mrs. Tanner said.

“Are you calling us dogs, Mrs. Tanner?” Taylor asked with a playful smile.

Taylor—head cheerleader, perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect clothing, perfect everything else—was as far away from a dog as you could possibly imagine. Although, if she were a dog, I could see her as a well-coiffed white poodle wearing a sparkling, bejewelled collar.

“Of course I’m not calling any of you dogs. I have great respect for dogs. I’m referring to Pavlov and his famous experiment involving canines, bells, and salivation. A discussion of Pavlov certainly isn’t out of place in a sociology course.”

“Still not getting you,” Taylor said, and there was supportive head-shaking and a chorus of murmured agreement.

“Nobody here knows about Pavlov and his dogs?” Mrs. Tanner asked.

Those paying attention just shook their heads, while the others were much more interested in the door, the clock, their pending lunch, and the grumbling in their stomachs. Or they were simply too busy looking at Taylor. That wasn’t unusual.

Girls stared at her to find out how to act or what to wear, while guys just plain stared at her, often with eyes and mouths wide open. Personally, I often looked at the people looking at her instead. That girl could cause guys to walk into each other, or into open lockers or closed doors, or trip and stumble up or down stairs.

Before this semester, Taylor had really been somebody I only knew of rather than knew. I guess everybody in the school knew who she was, but I’d never even thought of talking to her. That changed when we were partnered up for a project in Mrs. Tanner’s class. We ended up spending a lot of time after school, mostly in the library, working together. She really was
nice, and she was pretty smart, and she laughed at my stupid jokes and made me feel comfortable. I didn’t get that feeling around most people. To top it off, we got a 97 on the assignment.

In the back of my mind I assumed that once the project was finished we’d be finished. But instead, she kept going out of her way to talk to me, or just say hello, and not just in class but around the school. I got the feeling that we’d really become friends. I liked that. Watching Taylor—and people in general—was for me more than just idle curiosity. It was part of my ongoing quest to figure people out. Sometimes human interaction left me a bit confused. Sometimes it left me a lot confused. But I was working at it. That was part of my high school journey: to try to figure people out, and by doing so to become more like them, and, I guess, less like me.