Students will be able to drunk dial.
When the secondweek of school rolled around, I was tired but feeling really good. My students were remembering what school was all about and I was remembering what waking up every morning and functioning like a regular person was all about. Everyone at my school was welcoming and helpful, and though I missed my girls back in Boston, it felt good to find some new teacher friends.
Still, I didn’t know what to expect when the principal popped into my classroom after dismissal on Wednesday afternoon. Aside from that first morning when she’d asked me a few questions and explained the position, I hadn’t spoken much to Helen Holthouse-Jones. She was outgoing and enthusiastic, and everyone called her HoJo though I couldn’t form that collection of sounds without snorting.
“How’s it going, Miss Z?” she called, her assorted keys and badges on her lanyard clanking as she stepped into my room. “Doesn’t look like they’ve run you off yet.”
“They haven’t,” I said from my spot at the horseshoe table. “Not even close.”
She nodded, murmuring, “Good, good,” as she glanced at the self-portraits posted on the bulletin board. She strolled toward the table, pulled out a chair. “How are you? How is this going for you?”
“It’s a great group of kids,” I said, setting aside my lesson plans for next week. “I think we’re off to a strong start.”
She crossed her legs, fiddled with her lanyard. “You know what you’re doing. The children like you, the team likes you. The parents from the other second grades are already complaining that they didn’t get a chance to harass me into putting their kids in your class.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you,” I said.
She leaned back in the chair, clasped her hands around her knee. “Here’s the story, Shay. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want my counterpart over at Prudence Elementary to realize I have a veteran teacher in a long-term subbing role.” She gave me a conspiratorial grin. “She’ll poach you right out from underneath me.”
Never would I have guessed that I’d entered into the high-stakes world of teacher poaching. “Okay,” I said.
“Adelma Sanzi is going out in December for a knee replacement,” Helen said. “She’s saying she’ll be back in January but I doubt we’ll see her again until February.” She gave me a wide grin. “How do you feel about third grade?”
“Third grade.” I blinked down at the plans. Grace could explain everything about third grade to me. It was the only year she’d ever taught and she swore she’d never move because those kids were her people. But—December. That felt like a million years away. And February. My god. It was like doing advanced math in my head. Did not compute. Still, I had to stay through next summer if I wanted to inherit Twin Tulip. And I was mostly certain I wanted that. “I love that age.”
“Good, good.” Helen nodded. She wore running shoes and wrap dresses every day, kept her hair a slightly unnatural shade of burgundy, and if I had to guess, I’d say she was somewhere between forty-five and sixty. “Hildi Lazco, down in kindergarten, will be going out for maternity leave. She hasn’t announced it yet and I know she won’t until June because of the screwy way we handle paid leave but she won’t be back until that kid is ready for school. I know kindergarten is your sweet spot and I want you in her classroom next year.”
“Next…year,” I choked out.
“It’s crazy to talk about the next school year when this one is still getting out of the gate. Think about it for me, okay? Good, good. We’ll talk again before Kelli comes back and before Adelma goes out for the knee. And if you need me, you know where to find me.” She stood, pushed in the small chair. “You don’t have to make any decisions today but I don’t want to lose you, Shay. Good, good. Now, get out of here while the sun’s still out.”
I tried to respond but it was no use. The idea of teaching in this school, in this town, next year grabbed me like a hand around the throat. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. What had started as a low-commitment subbing gig was now leap-frogging into the future with long-term assignments and permanent placements.
And what had started as a hazy idea of living out this year at Lollie’s farm had leapfrogged into a fake marriage and rough drafts of a business plan.
A small knock sounded. I glanced over and found Gennie in the doorway. She waved though cast a wary gaze at Helen. “Come on in,” I said. To Helen, I explained, “Gennie and I are neighbors. She catches a ride home with me on Wednesdays and then we practice reading together.”
In our second conversation in as many weeks, Noah and I decided that I’d take Gennie with me on Mondays and Wednesdays. That way, he wouldn’t need Gail to meet her at the bus stop and wait until I arrived. For now, we were pausing our Friday sessions. Gennie needed that time to unwind from being back in school, even if we were cautiously optimistic about this year for her.
After a pause, Gennie scurried across the room, stopping beside the table. “Hi,” she whispered, her voice tiny as she stared at her shoes.
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Helen murmured. “Gennie’s lucky to have you, Miss Z.”
I smiled at Gennie. “It goes both ways,” I replied. “I’m lucky to hang out with such a radical reader.”
Helen nodded, moving toward the door. “Think about next year,” she sang.
“What does she mean about next year?” Gennie asked. “What’s happening?”
I forced a smile though I still felt that tightness closing in around my throat. “Nothing important. Teachery stuff.”
She glanced at the papers and folders spread out on my table. “Are you going to be a teacher next year too?”
“I—I’m always going to be a teacher,” I said carefully.
She ran her finger along the edge of the table. “Will you be a teacher here?”
I watched her for a minute, wishing she’d meet my eyes so I could get a sense of her feelings. She didn’t allow me that. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’m helping out Mrs. Calderon while she’s with her new baby, and I’ll help out some other teachers while they are away from school. I’m not sure who will need me next year. We’ll have to wait and find out.”
