Chapter Text
I sit on top of my desk with my ankles crossed, legs swaying back and forth slightly as I happily admire my work. I was only given the keys to my classroom this past Wednesday, so to be honest, the amount of progress I’ve managed to make in these four short days is something I am actually quite proud of. Now, to be fair, I did get the green light from admin to have some friends come in and assist me. I’m very fortunate to have the kind of friends that I do, because if it hadn’t been for all their help, I wouldn’t have made a fraction of the progress I did. It’s because of them that I can’t help but feel so proud of the classroom environment I’ve begun to curate as I look around.
Don’t get me wrong– I know things will end up changing as the school year progresses. Posters will lose their stick and begin to fall, the organized chaos of my desk will slowly but surely devolve to be way less organized and way more chaos, and I have definitely been known to adjust the seating arrangements more than once within a six-week period. However, I can confidently say that for right now? Right now, I am perfectly happy with where we are starting.
Fairy lights hang all around the room, accompanied by a few scattered lamps. Together, they work to cast a warm, incandescent glow throughout the space as opposed to the harsh fluorescent attack the overhead lightbulbs have to offer. The students' desks are neatly grouped to make five pods of four desks, with an extra, outlying desk positioned along the side of my own desk, totaling twenty-five desks in all. Colorful flags from each country proudly stretch around the ceiling’s border. A map of the world takes up the better part of one of my walls. It’s accompanied by many smaller posters and infographics that took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to successfully laminate. And of course, my favorite– my hidden snack drawer.
It’s a necessity, trust.
I do one last scan of the room, mentally checking off goals I had set for myself before heading out. This is the last time I will be in my room before Monday when classes start, so I want to make sure I have set myself up for success.
My eyes eventually land on a poster that has been stapled into a bulletin board crookedly. “Okay, humbling,” I mutter as I hoist myself off my desk and head towards the lopsided lineup of American presidents. At least it’s an easy fix; I love easy fixes!
I get to school early on the first day of classes. I like having the extra time for prep (and to get coffee).
The hallways are still mostly quiet when I unlock my classroom and step inside. I set my coffee down on my desk and spend the next few minutes writing some last minute notes on the whiteboard: the date, the bell ringer, classroom rules and expectations. I’m halfway through underlining today’s objective when a soft knock at my door catches my attention. I glance towards the doorway and smile at the man poking his head into my classroom.
“Mrs. Everett?”
“Miss Everett,” I correct, putting the cap back on my expo marker. I watch as the stranger turns his head to look at the name tag on my door. “And you are…?”
“Dr. Ryland Grace,” he answers, running a hand across the back of his head before fully stepping into the room. “I teach 7th and 8th grade sciences. I’m right across the hall from you.” He gestures vaguely to the doorway, which at this point is now behind him. He reaches his hand out to me and I take it. He shakes my hand as he continues, “I just wanted to, you know, say hi. If you need anything, feel free to ask. And everyone else is pretty nice, too, so….”
“Well, thank you! And it’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Grace.”
He’s tall and polite, and perhaps a little bit awkward. I don’t mind that, though. He’s the first one of my coworkers aside from admin to introduce himself, so I am grateful to have a budding alliance already. After he retreats back to his classroom, I check the time. It’s currently 7:41 a.m., and class doesn’t start until 8 a.m.. I hurriedly finish the last of my whiteboard prep as my students begin to trickle in. The quiet murmur of students’ voices looking for their classes quickly erupts into a chorus of children who have fallen deeply out of the habit of using an “indoor voice” over the summer months. When the clock does hit 8 a.m., I waste no time.
“Good morning, class! Let’s get started, shall we?”
By the end of the day, I’ve been asked about the historical inaccuracies of the movie Titanic, was told that my fairy lights are “giving cottage realness”, and was called ‘mom’ by two separate students. Overall, I’d say it was a raging success! Already, I can tell that I have absolutely lucked out with an amazing group of kids. While I wasn’t concerned about the adjustment from teaching high school to teaching middle (if I can survive the whiplash of teaching kindergarten my first year and then being hired at a high school for the second and third years, I can survive anything this job does to me), I was nervous about teaching a 6th, a 7th, and an 8th grade class. However, intentionally or not, my students have assured me that I am in for an absolute treat regarding the academic school year.
Something far less satisfying, unfortunately, is the way that I have noticed more of my posters are crooked. I push up the pink sleeves of my cardigan as I approach the bulletin board, determined. I begin to readjust the many uneven flyers I’ve messed up, until I am pricked one too many times by the staples that hold them in place. I look all around my desk and scavenge my room for it, but my stapler remover is nowhere to be found.
'If you need anything, feel free to ask!'
The sound of Dr. Grace’s voice replays in my head as I continue looking. While it would be convenient to pop over, I don’t want to bother him. Especially not when we haven’t even made it through the first week of classes…
…but then again, he did offer. I swallow my pride and cross the hallway to his classroom. I stand in the doorway, trying to gauge whether or not he’s busy. Before I can decide whether or not I want to engage, he looks over, spotting me. He keeps his head facing me, but looks to the side for a second before looking back again.
“Hello, Miss Everett?”
“Hi, Dr. Grace.”
“Did you…um, did you need something?”
“Yes, actually,” I sigh. “Do you have a stapler remover?”
He looks confused. “A what?
“You know, like a,” I pantomime removing a staple as I can’t find the words to describe the action. “A stapler remover?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“Oh, that’s alright, thank you anyway!” As I’m turning away, I hear him add–
“A staple remover, I do have.”
I turn back around to face him. He’s holding up a stapler–... a staple remover while chuckling to himself. Smartass. The amused grin he’s failing to suppress does make it a lot more endearing, though, I will admit.
“Oh, you know what I meant!” I walk over to his desk and accept the staple remover he oh-so-graciously relents to me. “Thank you, I’ll bring it right back.”
“Sounds good to me.”