Page 54 of Teacher of the Year

“Nothing.”

“That’s not a ‘nothing’ look. Do you not understand something?”

“No, just adorable.”

“Anyway,” I say with teasing annoyance, “her writing shows progress too. Knowing all her letters and sounds, she’s able to put more down on the paper, and she’s much more confident too.”

I pull out a sample from January and another from this week for him to analyze with me, and the difference stands out even in such a short time. As I point to the January sample, attempting to explain the missing sounds, Olan puts his hand on top of mine. I gently push it away.

“Mr. Stone, we’re at school. In the classroom. There are other people in the building,” I whisper-yell.

“I’m sorry, but you’re incredibly cute in that bowtie and well, I really want to kiss you.”

Olan never fails to tell me exactly how he’s feeling, and I appreciate that, but I’m also a sweaty, exhausted mess.

“I don’t feel very cute, but thank you.”

“Mr. Block, you seem rather stressed right now.” He raises his left eyebrow and his devilish look cuts right through me.

“I’m not stressed. I’m exhausted and hungry, and you are my last conference of the evening, and I’d love to give you the information about Illona you deserve to hear.”

I attempt my least adorable smile, all teeth.

“I’m sorry. Let’s finish up.” He’s serious now, or at least faking it.

He sits and lets me conclude the conference without interrupting or being seductive, and I’m grateful for his compliance.

“I have this report for you to take home.” I take the printed summary report from Illona’s folder and hand it over.

“Thank you.” He appears to skim it, and I’m not sure if this is to appease me or general curiosity, but I’m happy he’s focused on the task.

“Mr. Block, this column, the ‘now’ column appears to be missing some of the scores from the sticky note you showed me.”

Of course, now he’s all business. Investigating where he’s pointing on the report, I see he’s completely correct. My face flashes red. How could I have made such a careless mistake? Perhaps the mental and physical fatigue of this week has caught up with me.

“Oh my. You are absolutely correct. I’m so sorry. I assessed Illona today and must have forgotten to transfer her letter sounds from my record to the computer before printing it.” I hold up my sticky note, sweat beading on my forehead.

“Let me just copy them from here.” He starts to take the sticky note.

“No, no, I’ll print you a new report. It will literally take two minutes,” I say.

And I’m already up at my computer, pecking the numbers into the spreadsheet that feeds the report and printing a new page as quickly as my fingers will move. Located in a storage closet at the back of the classroom, the printer shares the space with bins of random items needed to teach kindergarten, much of it left over from teachers who previously occupied the space. I skip over to the printer and wait for the ancient machine to whir to life and print the damn page.

“Hang on,” I call from the closet.

As I stand at the printer, attending to the digital readout, hoping for a clue to the progress, Olan’s arms suddenly come from behind me. He wraps them under mine and pulls me back toward him, so we’re doing a sort of hug from behind.

“Mr. Stone, I’ll be with you in just a second. This printer is older than Methuselah and takes a minute to warm up because, well, public education is grossly underfunded,” I blather as I gently push him off me.

“Marvin, you need to unwind.”

“When we finish, I can relax.”

“Why don’t you let me help you,” he suggests, pressing his entire body up against mine and speaking directly into my ear.

“Um, here? Now? How about no?”

Olan reaches and closes the door to the closet and turns the lock. We’re suddenly in almost complete darkness, with only a sliver of light radiating from the printer display.

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