Jack gives Mrs. Hanover a polite nod that somehow looks like a warning. “Ma’am.”
Mrs. Hanover blinks like she just got addressed by a very handsome grizzly bear. “Safety… yes. Great. Wonderful. We love safety.”
I shoot her a look that saysdon’t ask questions now,and she wisely retreats.
As I head to my classroom, Jack stays with me—standing just outside the door while I set out worksheets and crayons and try to pretend this is normal.
The kids start arriving in a rush of backpacks and squeaky shoes.
The second they see Jack, the room goes quiet for approximately three seconds.
That’s a kindergarten record.
Then Levi points at him. “WHO IS THAT?”
Jack’s gaze flicks to me like he’s bracing for impact.
I whisper, “Welcome to my world.”
I face the class. “Everyone, this is Mr. Sinclair. He’s here today to help keep our school safe.”
A tiny hand shoots up immediately. “Is he a police?”
Jack’s jaw tightens. I jump in. “He works in security.”
Levi’s eyes go wide. “Like a ninja?”
Jack’s mouth twitches. Barely. “Something like that.”
The kids gasp like he just confirmed he’s Batman.
Another kid raises a hand. “Does he have a gun?”
My heart stops.
Jack doesn’t flinch. He keeps his voice calm. “No.”
I exhale.
Levi leans forward on his knees. “Can you teach us karate?”
Jack’s eyes flick to mine again—permission. A question.
I should say no.
But I can already see it—the way the kids are fascinated, the way Jack is a giant distraction that could become… something comforting. Something empowering.
Also, it’s adorable.
I sigh. “Okay. Maybe at recess. Just… very safe moves.”
Jack nods once. “Very safe.”
The day begins, and for the first hour I manage to teach like normal. We do letter sounds. We do a matching game. We talk about how kindness is a choice.
Jack stays in the back of the room. Every so often he shifts position, scanning. Checking corners. Watching the entrance. A living, breathing barrier.
It should make me feel embarrassed.
