I smiled. A work in progress didn’t scare me. After years of desperately missing the classroom, every first day felt so special. By the time I was in first grade, I’d known I wanted to be a teacher. Ms. McDonald was the kindest, most patient woman, and she taught me to read and write my name and to love being at school.
I perused the classroom, inspecting the materials and equipment, letting excitement wash over me. Getting this place set up would take a while, but it already felt like home.
The tiny mismatched chairs never failed to make me smile, and the faded alphabet posters were familiar and comforting. The weather chart complete with Velcro icons and a big rug for circle time were bonuses.
The space came alive as I wandered, envisioning where I’d create the calm down corner and where I’d set up sensory bins and the rotating choice stations. There was even a dusty terrarium on an old industrial shelf. It had probably once housed a class pet, though now it was empty. I giggled as I passed it, remembering Julian’s eager suggestion that I get a class tarantula.
I pulled a notebook from my bag and jotted down notes, making lists of supplies I’d need and wondering if there was a supply closet in the building I could raid.
“You made it!”
At the cheerful greeting, I turned finding Callie Mayhew-Beauregard, my new principal, bursting into the room, iced coffee in one hand, a clipboard in the other.
I smoothed down my navy shorts. They weren’t the most professional, but my selection of clothing was limited, and it was unbearably hot this week. The end of August in Vermont was no joke.
“I’m so pleased you’re here.” With a warm smile, she approached and pulled me into a hug.
It took effort not to tense up in response. I wasn’t much of a hugger. At one time, years ago, I had been, but now I struggled with physical touch.
My sleeveless blouse and shorts combo had looked cute this morning, but now I was feeling sticky and gross.
Callie, on the other hand, looked like a wilderness goddess. All long hair, a flowy maxi dress in a funky print, and a diamond stud in her nose.
She was unlike any principal I’d ever met. But her energy was calming, which I could imagine helped when dealing with parents and students.
“This room was used for storage for a long time.” Hands on her hips, she assessed the space.
“This is the first time we’ve added a second kindergarten class. It’s wild, really. It’s the largest incoming class in town history. You came at a good time.”
“Thanks for letting me bring my kids,” I said, wiping off a dusty shelf.
She probably thought I was a weirdo when I’d asked if they could tag along today. But without friends or family to keep an eye on them, this was my only option. Because there was no way I could leave them home alone. It was hard enough that they were halfway across the building now.
“No problem. When I walked by the cafeteria, they were quiet and seemed content. I’m jealous, honestly. Mine are here too, though they’re probably off setting small fires as we speak.”
Though my first thought was that she was joking, theway she took a drag from her iced coffee indicated that maybe she was serious.
“I have twin boys. They’re ten, and they’re feral. Yesterday one tried to skateboard off the school steps while the other one livestreamed it.”
My stomach sank. “That sounds … dangerous.”
“It is. They are why I meditate. And why I drink green juice that tastes like lawn clippings. Oh, and why I’m on a first-name basis with every individual who works in the emergency room.”
Though I was a little shocked by her admission and maybe the oversharing as well, her self-depreciating humor was disarming.
“I feel you,” I said. “Three kids. One is neurodiverse. Divorced. Starting over in a new state.”
Her lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “We’re going to be friends, just so you know. It’s nonnegotiable.”
An unfamiliar warmth flickered in my chest, but I sighed and lowered my head. “I don’t know if I have the time or the energy for friends.”
“That’s fine. We’ll just stand next to each other at school events and laugh about all the weird stuff later.”
A little chuckle worked its way out of me. “Okay, that I can do.”
“You may not see it yet, but you picked a great place. I promise—” At the sound of a noise behind her, she spun. “Ooh. My reinforcements are here!”
Two women wandered into the room, both smiling. The younger of the two had a bouncy ponytail and the other was carrying a large bakery box.
