Page 8 of After the Rain

"Honestly? At this age, the best homework is play. Cooper's learning more from building with you on weekends than he would from worksheets. Keep reading together, keep encouraging his questions, keep letting him explore and create. That's exactly what his brain needs right now."

Wade smiled, and I appreciated his obvious relief. "So I don't need to buy workbooks or flashcards?"

"God, no. Cooper's way beyond flashcards. He needs challenges that match his ability level and interests. If you wantstructured activities, I can recommend some logic puzzles and building sets that would be perfect for him."

"That would be great. He gets bored with the typical kindergarten homework."

"Because it's too easy for him. Cooper's academically gifted, Wade. We should be challenging him appropriately, not holding him back."

Wade's eyes widened slightly. "Gifted? Really?"

"Absolutely. His cognitive abilities are significantly advanced for his age. We'll want to start thinking about enrichment opportunities, maybe acceleration in specific subject areas. But we can discuss that more as the year progresses."

When our official conference time ended, neither of us moved to wrap up the conversation.

"I should let you get to your next appointment," Wade said, but he didn't stand up.

"You're actually my last one for tonight."

"Oh." He smiled, and there was genuine warmth in it that made me glad I could help. "In that case, can I ask about those logic puzzles you mentioned? I'd love some specific recommendations."

We talked for another fifteen minutes about educational resources, learning games, ways to nurture Cooper's creativity while providing appropriate challenges. Wade took notes like he was preparing for the bar exam, clearly determined to be the best possible parent for Cooper.

Finally, reluctantly, he closed his notebook and stood up. "Thank you for this. Really. I feel like I understand so much more about how to help him."

"Anytime. That's what I'm here for."

Wade paused at my classroom door, turning back like he wanted to say something else. "Cooper's lucky to have you as his teacher."

"I'm lucky to have him as a student."

After he left, I sat alone in my classroom feeling energized by our conversation. It wasn't often that I had the chance to discuss educational theory with a parent who was genuinely interested in understanding child development. Wade's questions had been thoughtful, his engagement authentic, and his commitment to Cooper's wellbeing was obvious.

This was why I loved teaching—moments like this, when I could see that my work was making a real difference in a child's life. Cooper was lucky to have a father who cared enough to ask the right questions and listen to the answers.

An hour later, I was sitting across from Brook Chen at our usual booth in the Moonbeam Diner, picking at a burger I wasn't really hungry for. We always grabbed dinner after conference nights, a tradition that helped us decompress from the intensity of back-to-back parent meetings.

"You seem more relaxed than usual after conferences," Brook observed, stealing one of my fries. "Good night overall?"

"Really good, actually. I had some great conversations with parents who are genuinely invested in their kids' development. It's refreshing when families see education as a partnership."

"Anyone in particular stand out?"

I thought about Wade's earnest questions about supporting Cooper's giftedness. "Cooper Harrison's dad. The kid is academically gifted, and his father actually wanted to understand what that means for his development. Most parents just want to know if their kid is meeting grade-level expectations."

"That's the recently divorced architect, right? The one with the adorable kid who builds impressive Lego structures?"

"That's him. Wade's clearly working hard to be a good single parent. It shows in Cooper's adjustment to kindergarten—the kid feels secure and supported despite all the family changes."

Brook studied my face with the expression she usually reserved for solving complex problems. "And how are you feeling about working with this family?"

I knew what she was really asking. Brook had been my closest friend since I'd moved to Cedar Falls, the one person who knew the full story about what had happened in Portland. She worried about me, sometimes to the point of overprotectiveness.

"Fine. Professional. Cooper's a joy to teach, and Wade is an engaged parent who takes my recommendations seriously. It's exactly the kind of family partnership that makes this job rewarding."

"But?"

"No buts. It's a good situation all around."

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