9. Claire
nine
“Hey,”Lucy says with a smile, peeking her head into my classroom right after the lunch bell rings. “Got a sec?”
“Bring your lunch! I have a list,” I chuckle.
“Can I come too?!” Aaron follows, his lunch in hand. “I don’t need to talk about kids. I just don’t want to give up time with m’lady since we have the same lunch this year.”
Adorable. What I wouldn’t give for something like that.
In the same moment that I have that thought, I chuckle. Out loud, on accident. Lucy and Aaron look at each other, then at me in confusion, as we bring our lunches to the kidney bean shaped table in the back corner of the classroom.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about how sickeningly adorable you two are, and then laughed when I wondered what it would be like to have time for a relationship,” I clarify, popping open the lid to the dinner leftovers my dad didn’t end up taking to work this morning.
“It’s all about the time you make for one another,” Aaron says, wrapping both arms around Lucy and resting his head on her shoulder.
She makes a face in the same moment that I stick my tongue in my mouth and fake a gag, but as we laugh, I see the doe-eyed way she looks up at him, and the way she tilts her nose into his cheek as a sign that she agrees with him one-hundred-percent. I’ve learned a little about Lucy’s past, and it seems like Aaron’s doting is a complete one-eighty from the way she was treated by her ex-husband, and she is fully into it.
“Okay. No bullshit. How are you doing?” she asks me.
I nod, chewing on my cold pasta.
“Good. Fine. They’re teenagers, so I’m handling them as best as I can.”
“Are any of them giving you a hard time?” Aaron asks.
“I think I’ve got them mostly in check,” I nod. “But like, do they all hate homework? How do you get them to turn stuff in?”
“With the way their homes are?” Lucy asks. “You don’t, unfortunately. You finagle your schedule so that they have ample work time, and encourage them to come to you during study hall.”
“I seriously did not understand how much of teaching was simply worksheet patrol.”
“Seriously,” Aaron nods. “Sometimes I feel bad for being on the gym end of things.”
“Yeah, but you coach,” Lucy interjects, “which means you deal with parents on an after school basis.”
“Noooo thank you,” I shudder. “I don’t even like having to email them when their student has missing assignments.”
“You’re doing that?”
Lucy’s eyes bug, and I suddenly feel warm.
“Yeah? Am I not supposed to be?”
“No, you go right ahead. It’s what Juliet would be doing. I’m just surprised. We have certified teachers here who don’t let a parent know their kid is failing unless they check their grades online.”
“I guess I’d want to know if it was my kid.”
Then again, I don’t let mine get this behind…
“What about your mental health? You’re taking time for yourself, right? You’re not staying here until dinner time?”
My laugh is bigger than the one I’d expelled at the thought of having time for a relationship.
“Sorry, I was laughing at the concept of free time. I haven’t had that since I was maybe… hold on, what’s the age difference between me and Michael? Eight? Eight years old. That was the last time I had free time.”
They both blink at me, and I can see the counselor in Lucy’s eyes start to chug down the tracks, like she’s getting ready to lecture me on boundaries or something. With only fifteen more minutes of lunch, I derail her plot.
“Actually, if we could get back to the kids who are giving me a hard time, any tips you can give me on Rocco would be greatly appreciated.”
“Ah, my old pal,” Aaron says, shaking his head.
“Rocco has a rough time at home,” Lucy shares. “He takes it out on his teachers a lot. He can’t control home, so he can control what happens at school.”
“And that looks like doing absolutely nothing…” I ponder this for a moment, closing my eyes and letting the part of my brain that majored in psychology, paired with all of the years I’ve spent parenting my own siblings, connect the dots. “He has no control at home, so he chooses to take control at school by picking and choosing what he does and doesn’t want to do. He isn’t comfortable enough to do it at home, but knows that teachers at school really care about him, and he almost craves the discipline because it means that there are adults in his life who care about him…”
I’m in the middle of processing out loud when Lucy interrupts with, “Are you sure you didn’t mean to apply for my job? Jeez, give me a little of the leg work to do on my own.”
She laughs, but I still feel my cheeks flush.
“Sorry.”
“No! No sorries. If we had more teachers who were as insightful about their students as you seem to be, my job would be more strategizing and working as a team than spending half of the year getting to the root of the issue—which I’m not complaining about!”
“Rocco likes to punt every ball I give him. So, for one day of gym, I catered to it. We shifted from soccer to seeing who could punt the ball through the goal posts,” Aaron supplies.
“So you’re telling me I should bring a soccer ball to English?”
“No,” he chuckles. “After, I pulled him aside and explained that we can’t cater to him like that every day. I told him if he participates in gym like he’s supposed to, I’ll play catch with him once a week after lunch. It’s not a one-hundred-percent success rate, but all he needs is one reminder, and he seems to like the thought of getting that attention, so he’ll snap back into it.”
“Hmm. Okay. He seems to thrive on relationships with trusted adults. He wanted that time with you—time that it seems like he doesn’t get at home…”
It’s a great start, but I need more. I need this kid to work during his class time. I need him to take hold of the life raft I’ve tossed him so he stops drowning in his piles of missing work. I can hear the wheels turning in all of our brains. The idea comes to me the fastest.
“What if he got more than just lunch with you?” I ask, putting together all of Rocco’s pieces. “He isn’t getting attention at home. He likes you. What if he got, like, time with you more often?”
“I mean, I do have classes to teach?—”
“No, like, just to check in. At the beginning of the day, as a reminder.” I sit up straighter, wheel cogs clicking together as a map presents itself in my head. “So, the bell rings, and he goes straight to you before he goes to his locker. Check in with him. See how his night was. Maybe pass along anything to the seventh grade team, and then, remind him about his choices. If he has a week of good days?—”
“I have a prep last period on Thursdays. I don’t mind giving him half of it if it’ll help him out.”
“Oh, I like this,” Lucy nods, opening her clipboard to a fresh sheet of paper. “Like a check-in, check-out system.”
“Like a mentorship program. For kids who are showing concerning behaviors that we’d like to recenter before they become worse. Rocco isn’t a bad student. He was just dealt a bad hand, and if we don’t intervene soon, he is going to become a true problem.”
Lucy nods, jots down half a page of notes, and then opens her laptop and starts clicking away.
“This is something that could be beneficial to more than just Rocco, but Aaron, if you’re willing to help us pilot this?—”
“Anything for you, my love.”
He cuts her off with a quick kiss, and I’m struck by that pang again.
“And, you know, the kids. I’ll do it for the kids, too.”
Aaron starts to pack up their lunches while Lucy leans toward me with a sneaky smile on her face.
“You know, you had mentioned not knowing what you wanted to do after your sub job is finished. You’ve got quite the knack for social work…”
She lets that thought trail off, and the potential in my chest rattles. I’ve never put a name to my future—let alone allowed a title other than nanny toappear next to my name. What if I had some control over that identity?
“Think about it,” she says, squeezing my forearm as the bell rings.
As lunch wraps up, Lucy lets me know that she’s going to type up a proposal and plan and send it my way. The happy couple leaves my classroom hand in hand, and I’m left wondering. The fact that I’ve never, never had anything close to a crush even, because my time has been so caged, strikes me harder than it ever has.
I want someone who prioritizes time for me. Someone who makes me want to shift things around. But my calendar is booked out until I’m thirty. There’s no way a man could ever finagle his way into it.
Still. A girl can dream, can’t she?