“I can’t hear you, Timberwolves. I asked, Are you ready?”
This time, their response was louder. One kid might have even roared, but it was hard to tell because I had several linebackers from the football team in my PE class.
I gave them one last look before heading to the sideline. No way was I standing in the middle of the court during a game of dodgeball. The last thing I wanted was to get pelted with a rubber ball.
As soon as I’d stepped over the black sideline, I blew my whistle. Both sides raced to grab a ball, and I watched their strategies unfold. Some kids hurled the balls as hard as they could, while others teamed up, throwing simultaneously to catch their targets off guard.
The first kid out was Cutter Vaughn. I’d never admit it if anyone asked, but Cutter was one of my favorite students. Coaching him in basketball and baseball was a privilege. He was the kind of athlete every coach dreamed about—dedicated, hardworking, and never oneto complain. Baseball was his golden ticket, and I planned to call some old major league buddies and Division I and II coaches once the season started about getting him signed. With their help, maybe I could get Cutter some looks. Otherwise, I doubted he’d go to college; I knew his mom probably couldn’t afford it.
The Vaughns lived two houses down from me on a dirt road just outside town. Every day, I drove past their house and wondered how it was still standing. Miriam Vaughn was always outside fixing something, whether it was spring, summer, or fall. I’d lost count of how many times I’d stopped to offer help, only for her to politely decline.
She needed it, though she’d never admit it.
And every time I passed by, Cutter was outside, too, shooting hoops or throwing his baseball against the pitch-back net. His determination and work ethic never failed to impress me.
“What happened?” I asked Cutter when he walked over the court to stand next to me.
He shrugged. “I saved Eleni.”
Eleni was his girlfriend, according to the Grove Hill rumor mill. From what I’d seen in the hallways between classes, it was easy to believe the rumors were true. But that wasn’t something I could ask my student or player. As his teacher and coach, I had to keep my boundaries—unless he came to me for advice.
One by one, more students joined us on the sidelines, some panting and out of breath, others fuming about getting out.
“Are we playing again, Mr. Schmidt?” Malik Carter asked, his tone eager.
“Do you think you can stay in the game longer this time?”
Malik gave me the “Come on, Coach, are you serious?” smirk and nodded confidently. He was our basketball team’s point guard—a smart, strategic player who always thought two steps ahead and saw the floor better than anyone in the state. He played on a travel team during the spring and summer and already had a select number of colleges recruiting him. Malik had a bright future and was a great kid to coach.
When one last student stood victorious, I blew the whistle before he had a chance to celebrate and told everyone to get on the line. They did so quickly.
“Count off: one, two, three, four.” Unfortunately, I had to watch each of the kids yell out their numbers, because you’d be shocked at who couldn’t follow directions or forgot which number came after three. “All right, if you are a one or three, stay here; twos and fours, go to the other end.”
“Coach, really?” Cutter groaned. “Now I can’t protect Eleni.”
“Very noble of you,” I told him, but I didn’t remind him that she’d lasted longer than he had in the last round. “Line up.”
For the most part, my classes went smoothly. The kids followed instructions and enjoyed coming to class. They used this time to burn off pent-up energy or let out some frustration. School wasn’t easy—not even when I was a student. Teachers could be tough, and classes were often challenging. Since graduating with my degree in physical education, I’d made it my goal to create a safe space where students could express themselves.
Like last time, I lined the rubber balls up along the mid-court line, walked off to the side, and blew my whistle. I watched, my head moving back and forth, as kids aimed for their classmates.
They jumped, ducked, and dodged flying balls, hollering excitedly when they got one of their classmates out, and groaning when they didn’t see the round orb coming toward them from the side. It was usually the smaller, sneakier kids who prevailed. They tended to be quicker and often used the taller students to hide behind until they were the last ones standing.
Jayden Torres threw his arms up in victory when he was the last one remaining. With him standing five foot nine, he’d completely shot down my theory of the smaller, faster student. His speed and agility played a factor, though. Jayden was one of the fastest kids in the state, having won the state title in the one hundred, two hundred, and fourhundred. He’d told me once that he ran track for fun, but basketball was where his heart was.
He came to the sideline and was congratulated by his classmates. I knew that outside of here, the students didn’t always get along, but during gym class, I stressed the importance of teamwork. I never wanted anyone to feel as if they didn’t belong or didn’t have a partner in class. There was nothing worse than seeing a kid struggle in PE.
With five minutes to go before the bell rang, I excused the kids to go and get changed. My other counterparts often kept their classes until a minute before, but I never saw the reasoning. I never wanted the kids to feel rushed to change and make it to their next class.
After I’d excused them, I went out into the hall and stood between the two locker room doors. I’d asked the kids many times to wait in the locker room until the bell had sounded, and while most did as I asked, a few of them didn’t.
The door to the boys’ locker room opened, and Cutter appeared. I gave him a quizzical look. He smiled sheepishly.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Vaughn?”
“What time do we have to be at the game?”
Cutter tried to be subtle as he looked over his shoulder at the other door. My guess was that Eleni would be coming out shortly so they could do what teenagers did at this age—make out.
