Chapter Text
Melissa didn’t have a lot of preconceived notions about what teaching would be like. She spent a lot of time at school when she was growing up, not just for her own education, but because her mother taught. She knew that it would be overwhelming at times, she knew she’d essentially have to schedule her bathroom breaks around her students’ schedule, and she understood that the hours where she was physically in the school building would not be the only hours she would work.
She watched as her mom came home and worried about children who weren’t hers, as she committed to hours outside of her contracted time to complete her lesson planning and to make sure her students had what they needed for each week in the classroom, and while Melissa envied the kids her mom seemed to care about almost more than herself and her brother, she hoped that when she grew up she’d love something the way her mom loved teaching. And she did. She loved teaching just as much as her mother did.
But one thing she didn’t expect was being let down by the stupid notion of teachers having an apple on their desks at all times. She thought that her students would take turns bringing her a piece of luscious red fruit (she would’ve even settled for green!) that she’d set out on display for her class each day, maybe even each week so that there was no wasting of food.
Her mother always had an apple, always had a story about the kid who brought her one. Melissa didn’t particularly care for apples – she didn’t love or hate them – but she wanted her kids to bring her one, to show her they loved her with the sweet edible. It was selfish, especially when she worked with children who didn’t have a lot to begin with, but she still wished it would happen even once.
And she knew it was silly, probably an old timey tradition that faded out after she left elementary school herself. But sometimes, especially during her first few years when she was a little more green and naive, it irked her that she never got one.
She’d told her closest teacher friend about it one day, joking over lunch when Barbara had brought an apple in and she was feeling particularly frustrated with how the day had gone. And Barb confirmed her suspicions; she’d never received fruit from a student either. Melissa was relieved; Barbara was the best teacher she knew and if she hadn’t gotten a love note in the form of an apple, then Melissa shouldn’t expect to, either. Especially after the day she was having. Barbara listened to her vent about her morning and gave her some advice – to focus on her kids rather than the discouraging feeling the day was causing – and when Barbara offered her friend the apple afterward, the redhead explained that she didn’t care much for the fruit, but she always knew her mother’s students adored her whenever she saw that perfect crisp treat on her desk as a child.
The bell rang shortly after, signaling that the lunch break was over and Melissa went back to her room, ready to reset her day and focus on what she could control. Maybe she couldn’t plan whether or not her afternoon activities would be disastrous, but she could react in a way that would allow her to take some joy home with her, realizing that apples or not, her kids loved her, too.
And when Melissa came in the next morning, she found an apple on her desk.
It was too early for any of her students to have snuck in and dropped it off, but after a moment, she knew who had gifted it to her. And she smiled to herself, knowing that there was something else she ended up loving, maybe even more than she loved teaching.