Page 4 of Reformation

“And one of these days I’m going to figure out why you are even a teacher.”

“Summer vacations. You know this.”

Though I joke with Cassie about her career choice, I seriously sometimes do wonder about it. I blame her cynicism on the fact that she teaches fourth grade, which in my opinion, is the worst grade. They are still children yet know way too much. And they have the mouths to go along with it.

In kindergarten, I get them when they are sweet and eager to learn. They haven’t been touched by the harshness of the world. At least, I hope they haven’t.

This is my sixth first day of school, and I’m just as excited about this one as the first.

“Want to play ‘Guess the Kid’ with me?” I ask, a smirk hitting my lips.

“Why else do you think I’m here?”

We laugh as she huddles over me at my desk to look over my class list, examining the names of my students. When you teach the older grades like Cassie, word of mouth spreads about who is the good kid, the bad kid, the teacher’s pet, the shy one and any other classroom dynamic you could imagine. But when you’re me? You are going into the year blind.

I met most of them last week during the school’s annual Meet the Teacher night, but I can never get a good read from those nights. One, not everyone could make it, and two, they were all on their best behavior since their parents were around.

So at the start of each year, Cassie and I try to “Guess the Kid.” I’m really, really good at this game.

“Annabelle Brainard.”

“Hmm…” Cassie says before snapping her fingers. “She’s probably Adam’s little sister. I had him last year. She’s going to be your super smart kid. Maybe a little weird, but insanely smart. She will never miss an assignment. If she does, she has to face the wrath of her mother.”

Ah yes, now I know why the name sounded familiar. Amalie Brainard is not only the head of the parent-teacher committee, she’s also the Queen of the Helicopters. That’s not an official group, mind you, rather a nickname we’ve given the super-involved mothers we pretend to like. In all honesty, we just want them to go away. I want to say they mean well. Heck, at least they are parents who want to be involved. But sometimes… yeah… they can be a lot.

And when I say a lot, I mean they never, ever stop.

We continue looking at the list and Cassie starts shooting off random names at me.

“Michaela Burrow?”

“Michaela… she will be my secret spy. She’ll be the one to tell me what’s really going on at recess.”

“Cullen Dixon?”

“He sounds like trouble. Don’t ask me how I know, I didn’t get to meet him last week. I just have a feeling he’s going to be the reason I drink this year.”

“Nicholas Thomas.”

“Class clown.”

“Penelope Williams.”

“The quiet one who is secretly planning on staging a coup. She and Cullen will be besties.”

We laugh as voices start carrying from the hall, and as I look at the clock, I realize it’s go time.

“Good luck,” Cassie says, walking to the door. “I’ll meet you after school. We’ll go for sangrias in celebration of surviving the first day.”

I wave her off as my eager students, along with their parents, start filing into my room, which is decorated with bright colors and motivational words, brought to life by the casts of various Disney movies. Some children are hesitant, shy about the unknown of the first day of school. Some have sprinted to each wall, trying to look at what I have displayed for them, leaving their emotional parents in the dust.

As the class gets settled and I take a look at the chairs, I see that all the desks are filled, save for one.

“Now you listen to me, Cullen James… you will not say bad words. You will not throw anything. You will not put any food items up your nose or in your ear. You will listen to your teacher, or I swear…”

The woman’s voice comes from outside my classroom door and it takes Herculean strength to suppress my laugh.

I think I nailed my assessment of Cullen Dixon on the nose.

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