Leah
“Ms. Harrison?” One of my students tugs on my skirt. “Can I have a drink of water?”
I look at my watch. “You think you can wait for another six minutes? We’re about to head back inside.” He sweetly nods as I gently ruffle the back of his hair. “Go finish playing.”
Morning recess duty is one of my favorite requirements as a teacher.
Kindergarteners don’t have the longest attention spans—children in general don’t—and even with interactive centers and hands-on learning, that’s a lot of information for little minds to process.
As an educator, trying to contain twenty-two children under the age of six with that much pent-up energy is exhausting.
Turning them loose on the playground for twenty minutes along with the other kindergarten classes is a win for everyone.
What makes it my favorite, though, is watching their creativity and personalities come out—when they forget I’m watching. Friendships are formed, new games are made-up. It’s chaos and loud and messy. And it’s absolutely crucial for learning.
“Look, miss! Look! Look!”
I twirl around to find a little girl with red pigtails holding a small green lizard. I playfully scream, hopping backward. “Lottie! You scared me there.”
“Isn't he cute?”
I crouch down, patting the little guy on his head. “I’m not sure if cute is the word I would use, but he’s pretty neat, huh?”
Her smile brightens, revealing a gap from a lost tooth. “Can we keep him?”
“We could,” I say thoughtfully, “but then he'd be away from all his lizard friends.”
“Oh.” Her face immediately falls.
I nudge her shoulder. “Tell you what. Why don't you put him back where you found him, and every day at recess, you can check on him?”
“Really?”
“Really. Just be gentle with him.”
Lottie nods eagerly before scampering off across the playground.
“Better check her pockets before you go inside,” Chelsea jokes, saddling up to me.
“I’m more worried about her washing her hands.” I chuckle. “What are you doing out here?”
“We’re learning about the weather.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder, her class dutifully drawing their observations. “I saw you over here away from the other teachers on duty, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
“Well, I’m so glad you did.”
A string of squeals captures our attention, prompting us to glance around the entire schoolyard.
Every swing is taken, each child pumping their legs to go higher.
Several kids push and squirm on the equipment, daring each other to cross the monkey bars or to go down the tallest slide.
Other students run around, dodging one another playing tag.
My breath hitches. Grady is in the back corner of the sand box talking with three other boys.
My heart soars. This quiet kid has been playing by himself since the beginning of the school year.
He’s run into a few other students in other classes that have teased and bullied him, but this appears more promising.
“How was your shift this week?” Chelsea asks, referring to Low Places.
I shrug. “It was fine. Slow again, but it wasn’t bad.”
“And … Did Prince Charming show up again?”
I groan. “Yes. It’s weird, right?”
“That he now stalks? Yes, that is very weird.”
It’s been over two weeks since I met Nick …
and our almost kiss. We haven’t spoken since, but I’ve seen him the past couple of Tuesday nights, waiting in his truck in the parking lot across from the bar.
He doesn’t get out. He doesn’t wave. I don’t even know if he’s there for me—or knows that I can see him watching me.
“Okay, you need to tell Skye about the creeper. Do you have mace?”
“Oh, Chelsea, I really do think he’s harmless—”
“Uh-uh. See, that right there? That is how you end up on the ten o’clock news.”
I snort. “You listen to too many true crime podcasts.”
“And you need more self-preservation.”
I nod. “Touché, my friend.”
We fall into laughter as a few girls from my class approach. “I got these for you, Ms. Harrison.” They hold out their hands, revealing a pile of dandelions. “See? You can put them in your hair—like us!”
“Well, at least the groundskeeper will have his weed-pulling done,” Chelsea murmurs.
I choke back a laugh, collecting a flower and placing it behind my ear. “What do you girls think?”
“You look like a—like a princess!”
“A princess?” I repeat. “High praise coming from three beautiful princesses.”
They giggle and blush, handing a flower to Chelsea. Our laughter is silenced by a blood-curdling wail. A hush falls over the playground as every child stills.
Panicked, I look across the yard and zero in on the sandbox.
Three boys are piled on top of another student, his small arms pinned beneath them as he struggles to get free.
Crap. I blow my whistle before hustling over to the fight. As I get closer, I instantly recognize the blond waves and discarded glasses. “Boys!” I clap my hands. “Get off of him!”
The boys freeze, quickly standing up to reveal a scuffed up Grady, his shirt now dirty and torn.
I reach out, standing him up. “Grady, can you tell me what happened—”
“Grady pushed Tucker!” One of the boys interrupts.
I blink.
Am I hallucinating? Grady—my shy, polite, sensitive little guy—started a fight?
“Grady …” I squat down on my haunches. “Is that true? Did you push Tucker?”
He slowly nods, pulling at his hair and staring at his scuffed up sneakers.
“Buddy, we don't push our friends.” I sigh. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he was being a little shit,” he murmurs.
My eyes widen as onlookers surrounding us gasp and giggle.
I blow my whistle with a long trill. At the sound, the children swarm like a colony of ants, rushing to the designated area where they wait for their teacher to take them back to their homerooms. I hold Grady and the other boys back as I formulate a plan.
“Grady, we don’t use words like that at school. ”
He frowns, genuinely considering my correction before looking over at Tucker and then back at me. “But he was teasing me.”
“That still doesn't make it okay. We do not use that word at school, and we definitely do not push people.” I put my hand on his back before turning to Tucker and the other boys. “Y’all, we can joke and play with our friends, but if they say no or if they tell you that you are hurting their feelings, you need to stop. It’s no longer fun for everyone.
And we definitely do not put our hands on anyone and hold them down.
Ever.” I sigh. “Do y'all understand me?”
They bob their heads, staring quietly at the ground.
I sigh, motioning them to follow me. “Let’s go line up—”
“Nick said I should.” I pause, allowing him to continue. “He told me to stand my ground and let people who make fun of me know that I don’t like it.”
“You boys go on ahead.” I turn my attention to Grady, furrowing my eyebrows. “Who’s Nick?”
Adjusting his glasses, his eyes light up and meet mine. “Nick is my new friend. We got to play at Mommy’s work, and-and we might get to play again soon if Mommy says it’s okay. He’s so cool.”
New friend. My heart softens despite the circumstances. I slowly inhale. “I’m glad you have a new friend, Grady. But it’s never cool to hurt other people, okay? Now, let’s get inside, and talk about all of this with Mr. Torres.”
We walk silently back toward the building where the other kindergarten classes are slowly heading back inside one homeroom at a time.
I watch Grady for a moment as he takes his spot at the end of the line before turning my attention back to my restless children.
“Okay, class, hands behind your back—” they promptly obey—“and swallow a bubble.” Puffing out their cheeks like little chipmunks, they quiet down, waiting for my directions.
After a trip to the bathroom—or what I have dubbed, the school’s waterpark—the kids settle down into their seats. I ask my teaching partner from across the hall if she can keep an eye on my class for a few minutes before escorting Grady to the front office.
By the time we arrive, Tucker and the other boys are already sitting outside the vice principal's office with their teacher, each of them suddenly looking much less confident than they had on the playground.
I place a hand on Grady's shoulder as I quietly lean in over the secretary's desk. “I need to call his mom.”