“I, however, think it’s of the utmost importance that we stay abreast of current educational trends. So I asked her to choose two teachers to send.” She eyes me. “But I think I’m going to send you as one of those teachers, Elias.”
Yesssssss!I throw a frown on my face. “But… what about my classes?” I ask her, with pretend anguish.
She pats my bicep. I flex it again. “It’s just P.E., Elias. We can find someone to throw some balls into the middle of the gym for a day.”
For once, we are actually in agreement on something, but it makes me feel prickly when I hear it coming from her mouth. “O-kay, no problem. When is it?” I ask her.
“It’s next week. You’d fly out Thursday night after work, attend sessions on Friday through Sunday, and fly back Sunday night. We’ll pay for your conference tickets, flights, lodging, and food.”
The grin on my face is genuine this time. Sick. An all expenses paid vacation to New Orleans. “Sounds great to me, Principal Thomas. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I’m really honored.”
She squeezes my bicep this time. “Don’t let me down, Elias,” she winks at me.
Now, I know I’m not a Master Teacher or anything, because I never really wanted to be a teacher in the first place.
I really wanted to do physical therapy or maybe sports medicine right after college, but… I never did well enough in school. After fucking around in the suburbs (read: living at home and bartending) for a while, I got hired to do some personal training at this tiny gym in Brooklyn. It wasn’t enough to pay the bills and the commute was getting crazy, so I got a teaching license in the meantime. Mia obviously helped me study for all the exams, and to both of our surprises, I passed (read: by the skin of my teeth). She got me a job as the P.E. teacher at 2 pretty soon after.
It’s been… fine. I don’t love being a teacher. I love the kids, love getting them moving, but I hate the bureaucracy of it all. Working as another cog in the city machine, beholden to whatever passing whim of whatever city bureaucrat is in charge. I got pretty lucky with Oliver and Lina, but Courtney Thomas sucks. Our superintendent sucks. Our current chancellor sucks. I hate the arbitrary rules and laws and observations and deadlines and deliverables and directives. I hate working for someone.
So what really brings me joy, where my ‘why’ really comes from, is from the gym.Mygym. The gym that I inherited from the owner after he passed. The gym that I maintain and runmyselfin the industrial wasteland of Gowanus. This is my true passion, holding personal training sessions for a pretty sizable number of clients, and it’s turned out to be a pretty good side gig to supplement my depressing teacher salary. Especially when I can take two months of the summer to do it full time.
I turn the lights on, inhaling the scent of the rubber of the mats and the bleach of the cleaning supplies, and my shoulders let go of some of their tension. This is mine, my baby. I go straight to my tiny office in the corner, look up my schedule for next Thursday and Friday, and send out a few texts to reschedule some sessions.
The doorbell at the front rings, and I sprint to the front door to let my favorite client in. It’s Agent Ethel Anderson, PS 2’s eighty-year-old school safety agent, who is probably approaching the boundaries of legally blind and deaf.
I wrap her into a bear hug, carefully, because if I squeeze too tight I could actually break her bones. “Hey, Ethel. Long time no see.”
She laughs. “It’s only been about an hour since you left the school building,” she tells me.
“Every minute away from you feels like a lifetime,” I wink at her.
She scoffs at me, slapping at my arm. It feels like a butterfly’s caress.
I let her put her things away, and she hobbles over to get started.
Because of her age, most of our sessions consist of basic stretching and balance exercises. We’re working on a standing calf stretch against the wall, when she asks me, “How was your summer? I haven’t seen you since June.”
“It was pretty good. I was here for most of it, except for the one week I went to the Shore.” The image of Mia, blue eyes wide, chest flushed, flashes across my brain. I shake my head. “I have a cool client now though—some guy from the NBA. He plays for the Nets but came to me when his off-season started.”And essentially pays for an entire month’s rent.“How was yours?”
“I stayed with my sister in North Carolina the entire time. It was nice,” she says, as I have her switch legs. “Big house. Lots of stairs, though.”
“But our exercises must have prepared you for that,” I tell her.
She nods. “There’s no way I would have been able to manage them if it weren’t for you,” she tells me. My heart explodes. It’s nice to be taken seriously once in a while.
TWO
Mia
I wakeup on the second day of school with a splitting headache.
I know the source of the headache. It’s because we only have two days before the kids come in to set up our entire classroom, but Principal Thomas spent the entirety of yesterday talking at us. That only leaves me one day to set up an entire classroom for thirty-one kids.
In previous years, Oliver would open the school building for teachers a week before the first day we needed to report, giving those of us who wanted to an entire week to set up and prepare.
Principal Thomas wouldn’t let anyone in the building without her present. I would know, because all seventeen of my emails to her in August went unanswered except for one.
No one is allowed in the building without me present.
