Page 68 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“And kids do, too. Predictability is the key to everything in the classroom,” Sheldon says, nodding his head toward the children. “Martha! I’m coming! Well, duty calls.” Sheldon waves and jogs off toward a little girl who appears stuck at the top of a tall structure.
“He seems like a wonderful teacher.”
“Oh, Sheldon is the cream of the crop.” Kent’s brow arches. “Having him transfer here was a blessing. I know his former principal hated losing him, but we’re reaping the benefits.”
“What he said about routines and procedures, I never thought about it that way.”
“Oh yeah, it’s key for running a smooth classroom. Kids like to know how and when to do things.”
“Interesting.” I rub my chin.
All of my rituals. The napkins. Wipes. Cleaning. Washing. Scrubbing. It provides safety. The work I do with Hopscotch, collecting requirements, inputting data, and running reports, there’s a routine or procedure for almost everything I do. Maybe I don’t find joy in it, but there’s an assurance of security. Sure, unpredictable roadblocks can cause a hitch in the process. I suppose teaching is similar. Children are erratic creatures. And filthy.
“Mr. Lester!” a voice calls. Two boys march toward us. Brodie, the boy I had lunch with, has his arm snugly wrapped around a slightly taller blond boy with ivory skin.
“Brodie, what’s up?” Kent’s voice is calm and collected.
“Kaden fell playing wolf pack,” Brodie says with his squeaky voice.
“Sit.” Kent points toward one of the many benches that line the perimeter.
They do as he instructs, and Kent kneels.
“Can I look?” Kent asks.
The hurt boy nods his head. Tears sting his eyes, and he winces as Kent carefully rolls up the leg of his pants, exposing the damage. My head becomes light and woozy the moment the scrape, easily six inches long and a half inch wide, comes into view. There’s blood, but also dirt. Mud. Grime. It’s all mixed, creating an awful deep maroon swath on his leg.
“Just a scrape, Kaden. The nurse can get this cleaned up for you.” Kent folds the boy’s pants so they stay off the area.
“Brodie, can you take Kaden to Ms. Kelly’s office?”
Brodie nods with wide eyes. His arm hasn’t left Kaden’s shoulder, offering unwavering support.
“Mr. Manda, would you mind taking the boys?” Kent’s voice softens. “I’d rather them not walk alone.”
“Oh, um, sure. Of course.”
The boys stand and hobble toward me. Brodie extends his free hand. It’s covered in dirt, wood chips, and something wet. Foul. He stares at me with pleading eyes. Waiting.
With a quick breath, I take his hand, and we walk to the office silently. Brodie squeezes my fingers. There’s a squishing of fluids and dirt, but I don’t let go. When I look down, his arm still around his hurt friend, he smiles at me. I remind myself I can scrub soon. Plus, Brodie loves LEGO. Returning his grin and grip, the three of us head to the nurse’s office.
“You survived?” Kent’s fingers fly across the keyboard on his laptop.
“I stayed while the nurse cleaned Kaden’s wound, and then walked the boys back to class,” I say. “My hands needed washing.” I hold my clean hands up. “But, but, I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re fine. Why wouldn’t you be?”
Kent stands and sticks his head out of the office. “Helen, Mr. Manda and I have some work to do. Buzz if you need me.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I say, Kent shutting the door behind me. My heart races, and a massive grin erupts across my face. “There was dirt. Mud. Blood. Germs, so many germs. Like billions, I’m sure. And I took Brodie’s hand. Held it.” I put my hand out, staring at the previously soiled skin. “Stayed with them. Remained calm.”
I grab Kent’s shoulders, holding him in place.
“I was fine. How? How was I fine?”
Kent chuckles, and his entire torso shakes.
“Sometimes, when you need to step up, when someone needs you enough, your fears and anxieties fade into the background.” With a smile stretching from ear to ear, I catch a subtle glimpse of the dimple tucked beneath his beard.
