Newbie (7 page)

“And he wears brands most teachers can’t afford, but he works at a school full-time. I’ve seen him everyday.”

“You look for him everyday?”

“You know what I mean.” Oh, no. She probably does know exactly why I’m asking. It’s not that I just like to look at him. I’d like to get to know him.

“Yes, I do. Do you?” Excitement makes her bounce a bit. “You have a crush. Ask him out!”

I roll my eyes at Beth to assure her the idea will not fly. “What’s his story?”

“He had a different job last year, one he didn’t like very much. That probably explains the clothes. He’s a friend of Jonathan’s, and when he asked Liam if he wanted to try out teaching, Liam quit his job and started here.”

“Just like that?”

“That’s the way I heard it from Mr. Chavez’s wife, Terese. She said he was taking a break from business for a while to make some decisions about his life.”

This must be the place you come when things fall apart and you have to figure out what to do next.

Today after school, we have a social with the parent organization to meet our Holiday Helpers and learn about each other. I sit at a table with my name on a card and with several moms of my students I recognize from the scrapbooking photo shoot. Each will organize one of our class parties. The parent organization president (I think she’s the mom of one of my students. Maybe.) puts a schedule on a large overhead screen and outlines the holiday parties for the school year, along with scheduled times and party expectations.

I glance at the table to my right. Mrs. Hays is clearly in her element, chatting, gossiping, and laughing with the parents around her table. If nothing else, she excels at PR. I wonder if those parents know her idea of “filling a week” is handing out coloring pages or worksheets.

After the social, I head back to my room. Trying not to lean too far over since my head is pounding, I search my purse for an Advil and swallow it down with a drink from the fountain at my sink.

On Thursday morning, a fifth grade girl comes into my room to give me a note. She looks just like Jade, only three or four years older. Unlike most of the girls in class, Jade is unkempt, her hair uncombed, her clothes dirty and wrinkled. She retreats from friendship or even being noticed. This week, she has worn a hoodie over her head every day, all day. The note is from her mom and says Jade is sick today. Maybe she hasn’t been feeling well for a while. I determine to pay closer attention to her when she comes back.

The children are excited after recess. “First graders, please clean off your desks. You will only need your books for your Reading Buddies.” The students are just finishing as Jan’s class arrives. Ooh—no Jan. Liam’s subbing. The students get right to reading. Awkward. Jan and I usually sit by my desk and chat. What do I do now? I decide to roam the room to check on the students. Mostly they give me annoyed looks. As I round the corner, Liam is sitting at the small table by my desk, curling his finger for me to come sit by him.

“They’ll find us here if they need us,” he says as I sink into the chair beside him. “You’re about done with your second week. How do you like it?”

“It’s fine, except I don’t really know what I’m doing yet. But Beth has been great helping me with lessons. I like the room—it has high ceilings, lots of natural light and storage space. The colors are nice—easy to look at all day.” I realize I’m starting to babble, but am unable to stop the next thought. “The school grounds are beautiful—flowers everywhere. I’ll miss them when the snow falls. Have you noticed that every window has a little garden by it? Mr. Samson—my kids call him Mr. Sam—takes good care of them. We never even have weeds. My dad would have liked the grounds around this school. He gardened, not professionally, just around our house. It looked professional, though. But he died a couple of years ago and the yard isn’t looking great now.” Don’t talk about death, it puts people off. “Sorry. Did it put you off?” Liam smiles and shakes his head. Looking a bit too long at his mouth, I continue, “You have a that little thing under your bottom lip, what is it called? A soul patch? My first kiss had one of those. Oh, um, I guess you know I was older when I had my first kiss. Well I had braces for six years. Over bite, snaggley, twisted teeth, but they’re fine now—great orthodontist. I hope my kids don’t get my teeth. Oh, I’m not thinking about having kids. I’m not even married.” Married? Kids? Could I be more awkward?

Melissa steps up and asks if it’s time for the Reading Buddies to go back to their class so they can have some time for music before lunch. Oh, yes. Bless that child!

They leave, and I reflect on the conversation. Let’s see, I started off with I’m incompetent, moved on to a real estate open house tour of my classroom, and finished up by rambling insanely through my memories and embarrassing secrets. Great first impression—okay, third impression—and they’re not getting better. Did he talk? I hope he talked. Yeah—no, I don’t think so. I didn’t learn anything about him.

Luckily, I manage not to embarrass myself for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, I avoid Liam as I arrive this morning, since I can’t seem to be normal around him. He’s talking with Jan, the fifth-grade teacher he subbed for yesterday, in the front hallway as I enter, and my whole morning is uneventful.

The students line up outside our classroom door at the end of morning recess. As they come in each child hands me fistfuls of dandelions. Students giggle when I reposition to catch the cascading bunches while the children continue to pile them on me, dozens of yellow flowers. Before long, my arms and hands can hold no more, and dandelions are surrounding me on the floor. Beth is across the hall, also bringing her students in from recess, and throws me a questioning look. I shrug.

When everyone settles on the rug, and all the dandelions are transferred to my desk— which now looks somewhat like a Rose Bowl float exploded—I say, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“They’re really from Mr. Wright,” Erin says. I must look confused because Ellie adds, “You know. Liam.” I blush. And his name is really Mr. Wright? How cute is that?

Random voices call out. “Yeah, he said you like flowers.”

“It was his idea to give you lots.”

“I picked flowers all recess for him to give to you.”

Okay, then I choose to believe they’re from Liam. We continue the morning as usual, but every time I look at the flowers, I feel giddy.

At lunch, I fill Beth in on the flower story. She responds with appropriately placed oohs and ahhs. We work on lesson plans again completing another week in the planbook, putting me easily through September fourteenth. Beth gives me copies of her monthly calendars of what she wants her students to know. I admit I don’t know what most of it means, and Beth is doing all the work while I listen and copy, but it’s a start. I plan to work on it all weekend and have another week of lesson plans ready to go.

Three-day weekend starts tomorrow. Woohoo! Happy Labor Day.

September 1, 2007

Newbie Blog:

Kids Mean Germs

I am soooooo sick! I woke up at three o’clock this morning with a pulsing headache, my stomach is twisting and rolling and I’m alternately hot then chilled. I’m coughing so hard I’m sure to rip a lung or have a stroke. The smallest sounds echo in my ears, and my eyes can’t take regular sunlight, so I’ve been hiding out in my darkened bedroom all day. I’m never drinking from the water fountain again.

Teaching is dangerous work. I should get hazard pay. Think about it. My first week, I fall from a desk (I don’t think I blogged about that part) and my second week I’m attacked with biological warfare. I should have suspected something when I signed my contract. I kept thinking, Wow, schools have great insurance packages. And that’s right. But what they don’t tell you is that you’re going to need it.

The worst part is that now my three-day weekend is back down to two days, unless I’m sick again tomorrow.

One month is in the books. (I know it was only two weeks but saying “one month” feels like I’ve accomplished more.)

I
t’s Saturday the first. I’ve had this day circled on my calendar for a couple of weeks. Our new roommate has been moving in today, and I haven’t lifted a finger to help. I’m making good impressions all the way around—not. However, I’ve run to the bathroom several times, passing her in the hall. She left a can of Lysol on the counter. It’s a hint, but I’m grateful.

I finally slept pretty well last night. In fact, I started feeling a bit better on Sunday afternoon, but I’m staying in bed through today resting. My precious three-day weekend is a bust. I’ll never drink from the fountains again.

Since yesterday was a bank holiday, my first paycheck is deposited this morning. I log in to my account to see the deposit. One thousand nine hundred thirty-one? For a whole month? It’s one-fourth of what I made as a real estate agent. How can I live on that? I don’t even have hope that the next check will be better—this is the amount I will receive each month. Every check is the same. I try to reason myself out of panic. Obviously other teachers are living on this. It will take some serious re-budgeting to do, that’s all. I dig through a box of papers I took from my desk, and then another box, and another before finding the budget I did with Mina last month. Of course, the income estimates turned out to be pretty much fictitious anyway, but the expenses were real and still are.

Getting a roommate helped, but I’m still short by $886.65. My credit cards are maxed out, and there’s no more room for a cash advance. Think, think—what can I do? Be creative. I could drop the life and health insurance since it is in my benefit package now. I could make my car payment a couple of weeks late. It isn’t even due for a couple more weeks, and that would buy me a month. Reducing phone, miscellaneous, and gas and oil would put me within $100. I’ll cut entertainment for a month. Nailed it. I can do this. I put the budget remix on my dresser and rush to work.

Although I get there just a bit late, Beth’s classroom door is still closed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it closed. Kristen is in the workroom making copies when I enter, and she mentions that Beth is on bed rest. I didn’t even know she’s expecting. She’s just barely pregnant, due at the beginning of May. Kristen tells me she might be out for two to three weeks. It probably shouldn’t be my first thought, but my mind quickly calculates. I have the lesson plans she copied for me for this week, and we made lesson plans together for next week and for two days of the week after that. . .and then nothing. But I have time. I’ll just get busy and muscle out some more.

At lunchtime, I sit with Jan, Kristen, and Mel.

“It was this time last year, wasn’t it?” Kristen asks.

“About. I think it was October,” Jan says.

“They really want to start a family. It will break Beth’s heart if she loses this baby too.” Kristen says.

“How long will she be out?” Mel asks.

“I don’t know. Until the doctor gives the okay to come back,” Kristen answers.

I can see why her doctor might put her on bed rest if something is suspicious this time. I hope Beth’s doing all right with it. She’s probably freaked.

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Subject: Happy News

Sun. Sept. 3, 2007 5:42 PM

hi sophie,

surprise, i’m pregnant. we are very excited about it but i didn’t want to say

anything yet just in case things went badly. but since i’m on bed rest i guess

i’ll admit it anyway. we are hoping it will be okay. mckay says the doctor is just

being extra careful but it is a little scary. i think i’ll be back soon. have a great day tomorrow.

:) beth

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Subject: Get rest

Mon. Sept. 4, 200711:57 AM

Hi Beth,

I’m sorry I didn’t read your email yesterday. In fact, I didn’t see it until just now.