Page 98 of Teacher of the Year

“Marvin, love is always enough.”

* * *

Friday morning, as I’m setting up for the day, Dr. Knorse strides into my room. She never pops her head in to say hello or asks if it’s a good time. When she needs to talk, she enters, sits, and demands you stop and give her your full attention.

“Marvin, Happy Friday. I wanted to chat about the Teacher of the Year ceremony.”

Next Thursday night, we’re scheduled to attend the banquet where all the candidates and finalists gather to hear a few marginally famous (nobody outside the state would know them) local celebrities speak, and the winner announcement happens. With everything that’s happened recently, the entire Teacher of the Year contest has been the last thing on my mind. At this point, the decision has likely been made. Worrying about it won’t do much to help, but I muster up some enthusiasm for her because I know she’s concerned about what it means for the school.

“Of course. Did you receive the tickets?” I ask.

The committee mailed tickets and the plan is for Dr. Knorse, Kristi, and Jill to join me.

“Yes, secured in my office. I thought it might be nice for us to meet here and drive over together. The ceremony starts at seven thirty, so we can meet in the school lot at seven.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll check with Jill,” I say, assuming she’s already checked with Kristi.

“Good, very good. I have a good feeling about this. Well, have a great day and weekend.” She clasps her hands and leaves.

I think about the banquet. Butterflies swell in my stomach. A few months ago, I was beyond jazzed to be nominated, and the entire process has been rewarding, if somewhat stressful. If I win, there’s a whole litany of responsibilities and affairs, some of which require traveling to Washington, D.C., for national events. And there’s the funding. Dr. Knorse needs this win. No, the school needs the win. It will impact our entire community. Even though I should be laser-focused, there’s no denying I miss Olan.

I’ve been trying to hide my somberness from the children all week. Fake it till you make it, blah blah blah. I’m certain they know something is afoot because they’ve been on their best behavior and extra affectionate. More requests to hold my hand usually means they’re on to me. Illona seems to be more herself, and that pleases me. I have no idea if Olan said anything to her, but my gut tells me at most, he said something simple like, “Marvin and I are both busy, so we’re taking some time to focus on work.”

She hasn’t said a word to me about her dad, and it definitely wouldn’t be appropriate for me to inquire, so I just smile and enjoy my time as her teacher. Walking down to pickup, she takes my hand. I look down, and she smiles up at me, using her tiny hand to squeeze mine.

“Thank you,” I say.

“For what?”

“For being such an amazing kid.”

We turn the corner. A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body, and the desire to drop Illona’s hand and run floods over me. Behind the long metal table, waiting patiently, stands Isabella.

“Mommy!” Illona shouts and darts over to her, latching on to her leg.

Cindy picked Illona up all week, and there was no note or email to me about a change for today, and well, I’m not sure what to make of Isabella’s surprise appearance. Didn’t she fly home just a week ago? Isn’t it expensive to fly across the country? Who am I kidding? These people don’t think about things like the cost of airfare. She probably flies first class too. Champagne and caviar dreams and all that.

“Hey, honey, surprise!”

“I wasn’t expecting you!”

“Well, I told your dad not to tell you. I wasn’t sure I’d arrive in time to pick you up, but here I am.” She pushes a stray strand of hair from her face and looks up at me. “Mr. Block, I was wondering if we could have a chat?”

My head feels light, and my ears faintly ring. Oy gevalt.

* * *

Illona tackles the monkey bars, a recently mastered feat she would gladly perform all day long. Isabella and I stand on the playground’s perimeter, far enough away to be out of earshot but close enough to supervise. A few other children play under the watchful eyes of their grown-ups gathered closer to the school.

“Surprised to see me?” Isabella begins.

“I mean, yeah, for sure. Didn’t you just go home?”

“I did. It was such a lovely visit. I know I told you this, but I’ve never seen Olan so carefree. He told me how much he cares for you.”

My heart trips at the thought of Olan talking to her about me. About us.

“But a few days ago, Cindy reached out to me, concerned about him. I called, and he told me what happened. I can’t help but feel like some of this may be my fault.”

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