Page 47 of Mr. Broody

Twenty

Jade

I’m sitting at my desk Monday morning, still thinking about my mom’s advice.

Is she right? That I maybe didn’t have to be gone for the last eight years? I did find a piece of myself, but I think I may have lost a big part of myself in the process.

I stare at the big brown house out the window. An elderly couple lives there, and I watch one wife help the other down the stairs as I have almost every morning before the school bell rings. She holds one of her arms, and with small steps, they reach the two chairs near their garden. They’ll sit there until the kids go to music class. She’ll refill their coffees and place a sweet kiss on the top of her wife’s head.

“Miss Jade!” Micha runs into the classroom, bending over at his waist and catching his breath. “YAY!” He does a small fist pump. “I beat Bodhi.”

Every day, they’re coming earlier and earlier, and my moment before the day starts is growing shorter.

“No!” Bodhi says a minute later, seeing Micha already putting his stuff away. “It’s Mack’s fault.” He stomps over to his cubby and, as always, meticulously puts away his backpack and coat.

“I beat you today!” Micha says to Bodhi.

“It’s because my daddy is playing in Colorado, and Mack brought me. He says this game of who is first is ridiculous.”

I can’t say I disagree with Mack. I swivel my chair away from the happy elderly couple, unsure if I’ll ever feel as peacefully happy as they seem.

“Okay, boys, let’s have a quick conversation since we have about ten minutes before anyone else gets here.” I walk over to the armchair.

“You look really pretty today,” Bodhi says.

“Thank you.”

Micha glares at Bodhi. “Kiss-up.”

“Both of you sit.” I lean forward, placing my arms on my thighs. “I know you enjoy being early, but it doesn’t matter who gets here first. Aren’t you guys bored having to sit here with me for so long before the other kids get here?”

“Not me,” Bodhi says.

“Me either,” Micha says.

I can see I’m not going to get anywhere because their competitive nature is front and center right now. They remind me of my brothers.

“Okay then, I think I’m going to start a new rule. If you come to the classroom more than five minutes early, we’ll use that time to practice our math. While you’re at lunch today, I’ll make up some worksheets, and we can get some extra work in before everyone else.”

They turn to one another then look back at me. Yep, I didn’t think either of them would be thrilled about that.

A couple more kids come join us in the classroom.

“Good morning.” I wave and look down at Bodhi and Micha. “Go ahead and get to your desks.”

They groan and stand, shuffling to their seats, unhappy with my new rule.

I return to my desk and turn on the smartboard to begin today’s lesson.

At lunch, Mrs. Hassels, whose first name is Joyce, comes into my classroom. “You should come to the teacher’s lounge during lunch,” she says, pulling out a small chair from one of the kid’s desks. “How are you doing? Need any help?”

I put down the tuna sandwich leftover from my lunch with my mom. “I use my lunch to make sure I’m doing everything according to Mrs. McConnell’s wishes. I don’t want her coming back thinking I was slacking and haven’t hit every lesson.”

She smiles. “They’re just first graders. Most important thing at this age is to make sure learning is fun. That’s the biggest key. But from the chatter I hear from the kids in the hallway, you must be doing a pretty great job.”

“Thanks.”

I’m enjoying the break from photography, but all in all, I’m not sure this teaching gig is for me. Maybe it’s too structured. How am I about to turn thirty and still haven’t figured myself out yet? Talk about feeling like a failure.

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