RYDER
Now that we’rethree weeks into the school year, the entire Cooper clan seems to be settling into a routine. Luke loves first grade. His teacher, Mrs. Lee, has more than lived up to the hype. She is patient and sweet, and when Luke is too overwhelmed to say much, she spends extra time making sure he participates.
I’ve been swapping emails with her and am pleased to learn he’s now raising his hand and seems to have no hesitation to speak when called on. He even has a little group of friends he plays with every day on the playground. I’m just relieved he seems happy. Well-adjusted. I’m not sure I can say the same for me.
Cora, on the other hand, is clearly not loving her daycare situation. I’ve considered bailing half a dozen times on the woman who offered to help. She’s great, but Cora has just been… I don’t know.
Maybe it’s a toddler thing or a separation anxiety issue that’s new since I’ve never left her with anyone. Every morning when I drop Luke off at school, we wave goodbye to her brother. I turn on some happy kid music and hope we can avoid the waterworks, but by the time I’m turning up the block toward the babysitter’s house, the tears start.
She doesn’t usually throw big tantrums, but when she does, it kills me. The fat tears, the trembling lip. Every day I have to leave her to go to work, I question all my choices.
Did I make a mistake not getting babysitters for my kids earlier? When they were young enough to adapt easily to new people.
Am I wrong to be back at work now?
Maybe it is too soon.
And to be honest, teaching isn’t the thrill it always has been for me. Yeah, it’s only a couple weeks into the year and everything is new for me too, but that’s never been an issue. I meet people easily. I get along with everybody. Sports form immediate bonds, so whether I’m coaching or teaching, I find my place and fill my role, and the pieces just fall into place effortlessly.
At least, they used to.
It’s nothing specific about Star Falls High. Nice people, engaged educators. The usual teacher drama. An assistant principal who seems to hate kids but expects them to find his weird, trying-too-hard sense of humor funny. You know, the typical stuff.
As much as Star Falls is starting to feel like home, teaching doesn’t feel like the fit it once did. And that scares me.
Financially, I could take another year off work. But I feel like I’ve spent the last three years delaying the inevitable.
But I don’t know if what I’m going through is normal transition anxiety or a real sign that I’m not the same man I was before.
Obviously, Elizabeth is gone. The transition back to something that feels normal was always going to hurt. I just wish I felt more confident that I’m doing it the right way. That the life I’m building is the life I still want. I never imagined I’d be doing all of this alone.
Except, I don’t feel completely alone.
Whatever this is with Gracie, it’s growing day by day. She’s the first woman I’ve ever spent this much time just getting to know. It’s been two months since I soaked my sneakers at The Body Shop, and we haven’t shared more than a few angsty, rushed kisses.
If I never solve my childcare situation, we’ll pass into the “old married couple” phase of sexless companionship before we ever get to the good stuff.
As I pull into the teachers’ lot at the high school, it’s between bells. Thousands of kids are switching classes, and a few who know me call out greetings as we pass in the hall.
“Hey, Coach Cooper.” A group of freshmen boys tumbles over one another roughly.
“Hey, we’re walking in the halls, right, guys? We’re walking.” I can’t help but remind them that they can be friendly with me, but I’m still here to keep order and enforce the rules.
“Morning, Coach Coop.” The nickname is followed by a chorus of giggles that I am sure comes from some of the sophomore girls whose class I subbed in last week.
I give them a neutral nod and a stern, “Good morning. Have a great day.” I learned my first year of teaching that, as a young guy who some might call good-looking, making sure I don’t encourage crushes or inappropriate attachments in my students starts with setting an example.
Friendly but not too friendly.
Firm but not mean.
Boundaries are everything, and that rule has kept my work life clean and my personal life clear.
Well, at least as far as my own behavior is concerned.
I hit the teacher’s lounge and review my schedule for the day. For as long as I’m only part time, I’m on permanent sub duty, filling in where needed.
That means during the hours I’m on the clock, I can be dragged into any class where a teacher needs a sub. When there are no classes to sub, I pitch in and help the PE staff, which mostly means I help move and sort equipment and spend a lot of time in the athletic gym talking with the coaches.
