Soleil shrugged, seemingly uninterested in any of this, though I sensed it was mostly posturing. A wall put up to prevent anyone from seeing that she actually cared about getting school supplies. To keep from admitting how embarrassed she was that she was living in a group home and didn’t have anyone to take her shopping except a random volunteer.
I’d been there, more times than I cared to think about. At least that meant I knew what tonotdo, namely, nothing. If I addressed the issue directly, she’d just throw up more defenses. No foster kid wanted to be reminded of where they ranked in the scheme of things.
I added some pencils to the basket as well and tried to make some small talk. “This is your last year of middle school, right? Are you excited to move on to high school?”
She shrugged again. “Just want to be done with school, period.”
“I hated middle school too,” I admitted.
Soleil looked up at me with a curious glint in her eye. Adults weren’t supposed to say bad things about school. Especially not adults in my particular career field.
“Aren’t you a teacher?” she asked.
I checked the shopping list to see what kind of notebooks her teachers wanted. “I’m an elementary teacher.”
“That must suck.”
I laughed. “Sometimes, but it’s better than teaching middle school.”
It was Soleil’s turn to laugh. “My teachers all look like they wish they were retired.” She picked out a notebook for herself and dropped it in my basket.
A step in the right direction.
I’d always intended to go into elementary education simply because I’d detested my own junior and senior high experiences so much, and I’d never felt like I could relate as well to older kids as well as younger ones. Not in a classroom setting anyway. One-on-one or in small groups like at the group home, I was okay.
“At least you’ll be in high school soon,” I said.
Soleil’s smile vanished. “Is it any better?”
I expected that question was rhetorical, but I wanted to give her an honest answer.
I thought back to my time in high school. I’d had good teachers and had been a good student, so I’d had a better experience than some others. I’d always liked school because it was a chance to pretend I was a normal kid with normal parents. The teachers had, for the most part, treated me that way, and that had helped when the other students hadn’t.
“It can be better,” I said. “You can’t slack off, and you can’t be the moody, sullen teenager, but you can have teachers who’ll guide you, believe in you. If you let them, they’ll help you find your strengths, find your way.”
Maybe I was speaking too candidly with her, but I remembered the way I’d wanted to be treated at her age. The way my best teachers had treated me.
“Everyone at the home says you used to live there,” Soleil said nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t something she was particularly interested in. “That true?”
I grabbed a binder and put it in the basket without looking at her. “It’s true. I was in and out of homes most of my life. I was there for the last year I was in the system.”
With the usual tact of a fourteen-year-old, Soleil asked “Why the hell’d you come back? You’re not even getting paid.”
I turned to look at her, waiting until she raised her eyes to meet mine. She needed to see that I was sincere.
“I’ve been where you are. I’ve had people look down their nose at me because of who my parents were, where I lived, the fact that I didn’t have a family. I felt like I had to do more, be better, and even then, I always felt like everyone expected me to fail.”
I could see the recognition in her eyes and kept going.
“I go back to the home to show you guys that whatever anyone else says is bullshit. You can do whatever you put your mind to.” Her eyes widened when I cursed, not because she hadn’t heard it before, but because I usually watched my language around the kids. “And I’m there to let you guys know that there are adults you can count on, ones who aren’t going to choose drugs or sex or alcohol or whatever over you. If you need me, I will be there.”
I held her gaze a moment longer, and then turned away, giving her the chance to process everything. I wasn’t going to win her trust with one passionate speech in the middle of an office supply store. I’d put it out there, and now all I could do was be the person I’d promised her I was…and wait.
Soleil dropped a calculator into the basket and shot a glance at me before turning away again. “I heard you teach at a private school for rich kids.”
“Yes, something like that,” I said.
“Rich kids have everything they could ever want, and they’re all going to end up being assholes.” The venom in her voice saddened me but didn’t surprise me. “You’re probably getting paid a lot to teach there too. Sounds to me like you come back to the home because you feel guilty.”
