***
After all the children have been picked up in the late afternoon, I enter the group room. Completely alone, Nadine sits at the craft table, struggling to handle the decorations for the summer festival. She cuts the leaves so carelessly that I almost want to take the scissors out of her hand. I straighten my back and cross the room, which feels eerily quiet without the children.
"Where should I continue?" I ask as cheerfully as possible, taking a seat on one of the small wooden chairs next to my boss.
She doesn't respond.
Better to start working right away. But as I reach for the box with the pre-cut tissue paper flowers to assemble them on the wires, Nadine stops me.
"We need to talk," she says wearily.
I follow her into her office, which is more of a storage closet than an actual workspace. There, she gestures for me to sit on the chair in front of her desk,piled high with folders and books. I feel uneasy. She maneuvers past the table and rests her head on her hands.
Heaven, when she looks at me like that, I feel like I'm four years old again.
"Maya," she begins, letting out a heavy sigh. "This is an educational institution for children aged three to six."
Yes, I'm aware of that. I might be scrunching my face because I have no idea where she's going with this.
"For two months, you've been working here, and I've done my best to make this fact clear to you," she continues, leaning back in her chair. The squeaking of the backrest pains my ears. "I don't like to admit a mistake, but if you have made one, you have to own up to it."
What? Nadine wants to admit a mistake? Something stirs within me. A spark of hope that perhaps my future holds more for me than financial worries and temporary jobs that no one could endure for long.
Positive thoughts are the beginning of all good things, I hear my father's voice echoing within me. For years, I've carried his voice inside me, and whenever he whispers something in his warm bass, I feel a little stronger than before. Even today.
What if behind Nadine's rough exterior, there's a soft core? What if she's been testing me all this time? And what if I've passed the test?
With anticipation, I gaze at Nadine, barely able to contain myself and eager to finally hear what she has to say. She grabs a piece of paper on her desk with the blank side up.
This could be my evaluation.
My legs refuse to stay still any longer. With a fantastic internship certificate, the first step toward admission to university is taken. In just three days, I'll take the second step by completing the required biology exam. A warm tingling sensation runs through my arms, while my palms become damp and simultaneously colder.
Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. Nadine turns the paper over and places it directly in front of me. Curiously, I lean forward.
Termination.
Does it say termination?
No, that's impossible. I read the word again, butterminationstubbornly refuses to turn intoevaluation letter.
"Dammit, what's going on here?" Did I say that out loud?
"Your behavior has been unacceptable in this institution from the beginning. Today, you lied to me again. Frida did wet herself," Nadine says.
Dammit. How did she know...?
"The replacement tights had a different color." Nadine raises her eyebrows. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Dammit. She must have noticed during the changing for the gym class. I shouldn't have lied to her. But abusing the trust of the little ones would have been just as wrong. "I wanted to—"
"Enough," she interrupts me. Suddenly, she looks exhausted. "I've never witnessed such unprofessional behavior. Denying it only makes it worse."
But that wasn't my intention. "Let me explain," I stammer.
Nadine shakes her head. "That's not all. You can't handle criticism and consistently execute my instructions incorrectly." She looks at me, full of disappointment. "You know we've discussed this before. You're not suited to be an educator. In fact, you should be thankful that I'm telling you this early."
"But..." Nadine's words circle in my head, but I can hardly comprehend them.
