Page 27 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
Rosie met my gaze over Charlie’s head, a calculating glint in her eye. “Yep, Charlie. It’s definitely going to work out.”
10
CHARLIE
What if everything I’ve believed about myself—who I am, what I want, what I need—is wrong? And if I can’t trust myself, how can I trust anyone else?
—from the journal of Charlie Savage
Imoseyed across the lecture hall and clicked to a new slide. It was a picture I’d taken a few weeks before, kelp floating upward in green-tinted water like Atlantic skyscrapers. The lights were low, and the students in my intro to oceanic botany class filled nearly every seat.
I loved teaching summer session. The campus was mostly empty, since only a few classes were offered, and the weather permitted considerably more field study. The Juneau campus’s summer sessions were full, so once I transferred there, I’d be on a wait list to teach them.
I imagined my dad sitting in the back of this classroom while I taught—in the same seat I used to come sit in during the summer to watch his lectures. He’d have a proud smile on his face if he could see me now, like he’d had when he asked his class a question, and my arm would shoot into the air to answer it, unafraid of a room full of college students.
Confident in a way that felt mythical.
I wanted to make the ocean a better place one student mindset at a time, and my dad taught me that the best way to do that was through story.
I flipped to a slide of a sea otter floating on its back, its legs wrapped in seaweed. I got a few “awws” from my students, which made me smile. “Adorable, right? Well, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, otter pelts were a hot commodity, and they were aggressively hunted. British, Russian, and American settlers became obsessed with the luxury and warmth of a sea otter’s pelt, and a robust sea otter hunting industry was born. Within 200 years, 99 percent of the sea otter population was killed, bringing them to near extinction.”
I sat on the edge of the table at the front of the classroom while they contemplated the near reality of a world without the adorable sea otter.
“So why am I telling you this story? Obviously, otters aren’t extinct. They’re a protected species, so we know legislation was passed to save them. And this is a marinebotanyclass, not a marinebiologyclass.”
That got a few chuckles. I lived off of those chuckles.
I clicked my slides back to the green-brown kelp floating upward. Everyone should experience what it’s like to be a teacher for a subject they absolutely loved, with students who signed up and paid to be there. I paused the way my dad used to when telling a story. He believed silence could have anenormous impact on the listeners. “Give them time to process, to anticipate,” he used to tell me.
It was the only place I felt comfortable doing that. Here, no one interrupted me or motioned their hand like they wanted me to talk faster and move on. Instead, they looked up from their phones or their notes to see what made me pause.
The back door of my classroom opened, and Rosie stepped inside. She waved brightly, but even across the room, I could tell something was off. She took a seat, and I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Her responding frown made my stomach flip.
I continued my lecture, racing through it faster than usual, my eyes continually drifting to where Rosie fidgeted and constantly checked her phone.
“Sea otters eat large amounts of abalone and sea urchins—which, in turn, eat large amounts of kelp. Without the otters keeping the sea urchin population in check, the kelp began to disappear as well. And why do we care about kelp?”
You do care about kelp,I had to remind myself as I gave into the urge to skip through a bunch of my slides so I could talk to Rosie sooner rather than later. Normally I’d have the class discuss this, but today I was going to spoon-feed them the answer.
“We care because kelp forests are a habitat for many types of ocean life, and they increase biodiversity. And, even more salient for us humans, kelp forests help prevent erosion of our coastline, something that is especially necessary with rising sea levels and frequent storms. Our actions have impact. Plant, animal, human. We are all connected.”
I turned on the light, and the class clapped, something I’d never get used to. It didn’t happen after every class, but they loved it when I ended my lecture with a story.
“It’s a beautiful day. Go explore. Touch some grass. If you email me a picture of a sea otter this weekend, I’ll throw out your lowest grade. I’ll accept cute dog pictures as well.”
I grabbed my phone to check my notifications as Rosie raced down the stairs toward me. I had three missed calls from her, and one from my mom.
I grabbed her arm tightly as panic raced through me. “What’s going on? Is my mom hurt?”
“No,” Rosie said, out of breath. “She’s fine. She’s at work and can’t leave, and when she couldn’t get a hold of you, she reached out to me.”
Adrenaline zipped through me while I waited for Rosie to tell me what was going on.
“Your mom’s working at Icy Asps today. She said Kathy came in for lunch and had been talking to Jill, who teaches those dance classes for little kids down at the rec center.” She paused to let me absorb the line of information, and I nodded when I had it. “Well, Serene Hollinger is in her dance class.”
“Why is that name familiar?”
“The Hollingers have a dog named Molly.”
