He leaned in closer as if he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Just yesterday I was Professor Sexy Cock and now…”
“Now, I’m the teacher.”
“Right.”
“Different time, different place.”
“I didn’t realize you were a teacher,” he said.
“We didn’t talk much about our work.”
He ran a hand down the back of his neck. “I guess we didn’t.”
“Did you have a concern?”
He looked through the little window on the door of my classroom. “Mollie, she’s had a hard time adjusting to school this year.”
“Oh?”
“She’s shy, but also, unhappy. It didn’t help that Mrs. Jones left, and Mrs. Layton, the temporary substitute was hard on Mollie.”
“Hard?”
“She wasn’t very understanding of her shyness.” He sighed. “Look, I know everyone thinks I’m overprotective, and maybe I am, but Mollie is unhappy here.”
I wanted to touch him because I could see how much it pained him that his daughter was unhappy.
“She needs a teacher who knows kids.” There was a look in his eyes that made me think he didn’t believe I was up to the challenge.
“I may be inexperienced in private activities, but I can assure you, I know children and how to teach them. Speaking of which, I need to get back to them.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, I just—”
“I’ll observe Mollie today and let you know my thoughts on how to help her adjust.” I wondered if Will was overstating things because the previous teachers would have likely done the same thing. But I’d say it and do it if it lessened Will’s concerns.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got to get to class.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you…around.” His words were a reminder that our tryst was a one-time thing. Now we were back to just being neighbors.
I went into my classroom and for a moment studied my students. They were listening to Ms. Hatcher reading a story about a train. Some sat still, totally enthralled by the story. Others were listening but fidgeting. Mollie sat on the edge of the carpet, listening, but I wasn’t sure she was completely hearing the story. She seemed to have a far-off sad look.
I approached the carpet area. Ms. Hatcher finished the book and then stood, and I took her place.
“Thank you, Ms. Hatcher. Wasn’t that a fun story?” I asked the kids as I sat down.
Most of the kids nodded. One called out, “I liked the cow in the cow catcher.”
“That was funny.” I agreed. “Today, because we’re just getting to know each other, I want to do an art activity that will help me learn about you.” I reached over to my desk and picked up a large piece of colored paper. “This is a picture of me, and you can see around it I have other pictures of things about me.” I pointed to a picture of Illinois. “This is where I’m from. It’s the state of Illinois. And this is a picture of macaroni and cheese, which is my favorite food.”
“I love macaroni and cheese,” another child called out.
“Who doesn’t, right?”
The kids nodded.
“So, what I want each of you to do, is make a picture like this that tells me something about you. You can put your family and pets. You can make things that you like or like to do. Anything that tells me who you are. Ms. Hatcher has set out paper and art supplies at your tables. I also included some magazines if you’d like to cut out pictures instead of drawing them like I did here.” I pointed to the picture of a bowl of mac and cheese. “If you need help cutting, let me or Ms. Hatcher know, okay.”
The kids nodded.
“Okay so let’s start with the table back there near the cubbies. If that’s your table, please stand and go to your seat.” I did this for each table until the kids were seated and working. “Ms. Hatcher, perhaps you can make one too.”
She looked at me a little startled.
“If we’re going to be partners in this, we should know each other.”
Her features softened slightly and she nodded, as she joined a group of kids at one of the tables.
I let them work long enough to make progress, but when I sensed restlessness, I called them to attention, and had them, table by table, bring their pictures to the story rug again.
I sat in the chair and looked out over the bright faces. Mollie was still looking a bit forlorn, but she’d made a picture.
“Now, when I call you up, I want you to tell all of us about you and your picture.”
Hands shot up. “Me, I want to go first,” several students called out.
One by one, I had them come up and talk about their picture. Mollie watched, and I had the sense she wanted to share her picture, but she never raised her hand to be next. Finally, I just called on her.