Page 8 of Teacher of the Year

“See how much easier this is? Now you try.”

I return the scissors to Illona. She looks up at me, confused.

“Remember, your thumb goes in the smaller hole. Here. There you go. And your other fingers in here. Now thumb up!”

Illona follows my directions methodically, and I wait for her after each step. As she cuts an irregular circle, more of a lopsided oval, her tongue pokes out of the right side of her mouth. Finishing, she proudly holds up her creation.

“Nice work.” I pat her on the shoulder, and she leans her head back and grins.

Small steps. Small shifts. Patience. Building relationships with children happens in small moments.

By the time our day begins to wind down, Illona has held my hand and hugged me multiple times. It’s time for her to pick a book to take home for the week, and she holds up the well-worn cover ofThe Very Hungry Caterpillar, her face beaming.

“This one.”

“Oh, you’ve picked one of my favorites.”

She simply nods and dips her smiling face into her shoulder.

Another part of the pure magic of kindergarten. Children learn very quickly. My main goal is for them to feel welcome, safe, and loved. The learning that takes place is merely icing on the cake. Relationships come first. Only then can I begin to teach them.

As we sit on the rug, I read them a silly story about dust bunnies, and we all giggle until we’re interrupted by Jean reading the dismissal announcements over the intercom. Once the children taking buses depart, I line up and bring those being picked up by a family member to the back entrance. Approaching the pickup area, I spot Olan Stone immediately, standing near the back doors, waiting. His hair now hides under a Sea Dogs baseball hat, and he looks like he’d rather be getting a root canal than waiting with all these curious moms. If he’s trying to distract from his looks by wearing a cap, he’s failing miserably. I wonder what the pickup mothers think of him. Sure, they aren’t mobbing him with platitudes, but they’re definitely staring. More than a few appear to be huddled together, chattering. Illona still holds my hand as we walk, but upon seeing her father, sprints over and wraps herself around his thick thighs. I can’t say I blame her.

“Princess, did you have a good day?” The moment Olan sees his daughter, a shift takes place. He lifts her up and gathers her in his arms, and she wraps her legs around his waist, causing his burgundy fleece to ride up just enough to show a sliver of skin. Damn. There I go wanting to lick him again.

“I had so much fun! We went to Art, and I made a sculpture with clay, and we played games inside for recess because it was too cold, and I played Candy Land, and I won, and I made a new friend, and she held my hand and read me a story, and I have the book in my backpack, and everyone was so nice, especially Mr. Block.”

“Wow, sounds like you had a busy day.”

“She’s probably going to be exhausted tonight. I know I will be.” I chuckle at my own joke. Olan glances my way and gives a little grin. That punim. And that smile. Can I bottle it up and keep it for times I’m anxious or sad or just need a pick-me-up?

“Illona, can you share the book with your dad tonight?”

She nods quickly.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” I throw her a wave.

“Hey, thank you. For everything.” Olan puts his hand out for a shake.

And there it is. Another chance for skin-to-skin contact. Clumsily, I wipe my hand on my pants and reach out. Our hands touch, and he wraps his long, strong fingers around my palm and squeezes just hard enough to show me he’s a master at the art of the handshake.

“I truly appreciate it.”

His eyes home in on mine, and I feel a warmth coming from his hand and entire body. He holds on a second or two longer than I expect, and my insides take a little tumble. I’m keenly aware of the gaggle of moms watching us, and I pull my hand away a little more abruptly than I want to.

“Okay, I will seeyoutomorrow, Illona,” I interrupt, hoping he’ll be back again too. “There’s some paperwork in her blue folder for you.” I glance up at him quickly, stealing one more look. “Some nitty-gritty information for you, all my contact info, email, and cell phone, so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m here for you. The blue folder goes back and forth daily. Please check it, and I’ll do the same.”

Not every teacher gives out their cell number, but honestly, it avoids more problems than it causes. A simple question, concern, or issue can be addressed more quickly and easily through text than email or returning a phone call the next day. It’s meant for emergencies, although what each family defines as an emergency varies. Will I heat up your child’s ravioli in the teacher’s room microwave at lunch? Not an emergency. In all my years doing this, I’ve never had anyone abuse it, but with how he’s looking at me with his dark umber eyes, I almost wish he would.

“Got it, thanks again,” and I swear, by all that is mighty and good in this world, Olan Stone gives me a little blink-and-you’d-miss-it wink. My pulse quickens, and I close my eyes to steady myself. How can a simple wink from this man make my insides turn to complete mush?

Chapter5

Jill: Branch Brew after school.

Marvin: I’m exhausted. Toast. I have TOY stuff to work on.

Jill: TOY can wait. No is not an option. ??

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