Page 8 of Under His Sheets
“Right this way, monsieur.”
“Right, sorry.”
Madame Lahlou smiled and held the door open for me. She had such a beautiful voice, I found myself wanting to keep speaking to her, even though she seemed busy. I could get lost listening to people with certain tones or musicality to their speech, just as I did when I listened to music.
She laid the papers out on her desk and I signed, admittedly, without paying enough attention to them.
“We received your California teaching credentials, but as Madame Trujillo-Perez informed you, you will be considered a probationary employee until you have applied for and received your permit to teach in a private setting. That is this form here,” she said, pointing it out as if she’d caught me signing without reading. I should be better about signing contracts, I knew that. Thankfully I hadn’t been screwed by our band contracts.Cherish took good care of me in that regard.
“Thank you, I appreciate all of the help.”
She nodded. “It is my duty to assist you. Here is your staff handbook, as I am not sure you received one. We normally goover it at our orientation for new staff, but as you are starting later in the year, you should go over it yourself. I would also like to invite you to our social gathering on Friday after school. We go to a restaurant near the beach or in town for tapas and drinks. Usually an email goes around with the location for the week. It will be a good time for you to meet the rest of the staff.”
And perhaps a good time to see—no, I needed to focus on work and doing a good job with these kids. If Alonso came around, maybe.
“One more thing, monsieur?”
“Yes?”
She glanced around the office, which was mostly empty except for the secretary who was on the phone at her desk, and I heard voices coming from Lara’s office.
Madame Lahlou stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“While I encourage you to associate with your colleagues, beware of fraternizing with them, as well as with parents or their help. It is our protocol. Madame Trujillo-Perez is quite supportive of her staff, but crossing the line of appropriate behavior with a member of our school community could be a cause for concern for someone who is on probation.”
I nodded. Good to know what I was dealing with.
“Thanks for the advice.”
It was probably for the best, then, that neither Alonso nor his cart were anywhere to be seen when I left the office a few minutes later. I rode my bike home, taking much more care with my surroundings, and once there I scarfed down a leftover meal from a local Italian restaurant, and got to work going over the first-day surveys. Hopefully I’d be able to stay awake long enough.
THREE
Friday3:58 PM Frederick Douglass International School, Castelldefels, Catalonia, Spain
My classes were great, but private lessons allowed me to really get to know the kids on an individual level and gauge each of the students’ interest in music. A few of them shared interesting perspectives.
“I want to be a pop star and make enough money to pay for any plastic surgery I might need as I get older.”
“I want to be in a band that has mosh pits. I like the violence.”
“I’m going to be a rapper. My mom says I’m great at it.”
And my favorite:
“I’m going to be a lead singer so I can have a beautiful date every night.”
Good luck, kid.
On the other hand, there were a few who had admirable goals.
“I want to write music for people who are hurting.”
“I want to use my songs to bring about real change and challenge people’s problematic beliefs.”
But my most memorable conversation happened in my very last private lesson with a boy named Pere Ferrer.
“I want to be able to play with my father. He is a world-famous flamenco guitarist. He met Paco de Lucia before. He plays all over the world.”
