Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
DARBY
Darby was often the first staff member to arrive at work in the morning.
She enjoyed the empty hallways and the smell of lemon cleaner used to buff the floors.
Her classroom was a bookish retreat. It didn’t look like a typical high school classroom.
Instead of uniform rows, she had arranged the desks in a circle for their daily Socratic seminars.
Bookshelves lined every wall. There were reading nooks in each corner—one with a thick rug and bean bags and another with two oversized plush chairs and fake candles, the kind with electric flames that actually flickered.
The snack station was her students’ favorite.
She kept granola bars, chocolate cookies, fruit, and nuts for them to enjoy while curled up with a book.
Her teaching practices and style hadn’t changed much over the years.
Darby had always prided herself on introducing her students to a wide range of authors from diverse backgrounds.
She was happy that the AP English curriculum reflected stories from new perspectives in recent years.
Her only worry was that so much of the current reading lists centered on trauma.
Not that Darby opposed exposing the young, bright minds in her classroom to the harsh realities of the world around them.
She stocked up on tissues at Costco because nearly every discussion led to tears.
Darby wasn’t afraid of tears or letting her kids feel the big feelings that books brought up. Her classroom was a safe space to explore deep conversations, vulnerability, and self-reflection, and to challenge her students and herself to examine their long-held views and personal biases.
Her only concern was that there wasn’t a balance. Reading should also be fun. Her students were exclusively reading books that triggered deep emotional pain without also experiencing the utter bliss that could come from escaping into the pages of a beautifully crafted story.
She had made an impromptu change in her syllabus in early November a couple of years ago after her senior class had finished reading back-to-back novels that had left her and her students a blubbery, teary mess.
To remedy the situation for the last two weeks of school, before winter break, they would find joy in reading again and participate in planning a holiday prank.
The assignment was two-fold. First, her class had come up with an elaborate, yet not mean-spirited, prank to play on the staff. This year’s Project Candy Cane was a perfect example of a festive and fun way to round out the year before holiday break.
The second assignment was for each student to bring the book they remembered completely falling in love with.
It didn’t matter if it was a picture book from childhood, a graphic novel, or a romance.
Darby didn’t care or offer specifications.
Any book that had made them laugh. Any story that had brought them a moment of joy.
Any reading that became an escape, a place of comfort and solace.
Maybe she was projecting, but the statistics were on her side.
At a teaching conference last year, she’d learned that over forty percent of high school graduates would never pick up a book again in their lifetime.
Books had been her companions in grief. She wanted to ensure this next generation had fictional friends to turn to in times of darkness.
Darby flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights and checked her lesson plan.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
She looked up to see William Graff standing in the doorframe.
He was so tall that his head almost touched the top of the frame.
There was something about his naturally calming aura that put her at ease.
She suspected his students picked up on that same energy, which was likely why he was the most sought-after sub in the entire district.
“Hey, am I interrupting?” He leaned against the doorframe, holding a pink bakery box as if trying to decide whether to step inside.
“No. Not at all.” Darby closed her notebook. “Please, come in.”
William had been hired as a long-term substitute to cover for another teacher on maternity leave.
Aside from his student teaching, he had never set foot in a classroom.
Even though he had little experience and lacked the basics regarding classroom management, the kids adored him.
He was also eager to learn and had a great sense of humor.
Darby believed that a sense of humor should be a prerequisite to hiring any high school teacher.
She’d been in education long enough to witness a steady stream of teachers who took themselves way too seriously for the halls of a high school opt for new career paths.
Not that Darby wasn’t serious about teaching.
She took her work and students seriously, but she met them where they were developmentally.
She tried to infuse humor, fun, and irreverence in her lesson plans, and more than anything, she wanted to create a classroom environment where every student felt safe and heard.
Most mornings, William dropped by Darby’s room to get her advice on lesson plans or how to deal with a challenging student.
“I saw you at the park last night.” William approached her desk and offered her a doughnut from the pink box. “Doughnut?”
Darby declined. “No thanks.”
“I’ve got jelly-filled.” William lifted the lid to display the doughnuts and raised his eyebrows twice.
“That is tempting. Jelly-filled is my weakness. How did you know?” Darby smiled and motioned for him to sit down.
William set the box on her desk and sat across from her. “I listen.”
“You do.” She helped herself to a raspberry-filled doughnut dusted with powdered sugar. “That’s the reason the kids love you.”
William waved off her compliment. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” Darby gave him her best teacher face. “Listen, I’ve been teaching for nearly as long as you’ve been alive, and I can say with confidence that the students have a real connection with you. That’s all that matters, trust me.”
He broke off a piece of an apple fritter. “Thanks; I appreciate your vote of confidence. I wish I had a clue what I was doing. Every day feels like I’m diving into the deep end and having to relearn how to swim. Well, not even swim, just tread water to stay afloat.”
“That’s normal,” she assured him. “Anyone can learn how to plan a good lesson or follow a curriculum. The things that make a great teacher can’t always be taught. Your connection with the students is the most important piece right now. The rest will come with time.”
William took a minute to savor the fritter. “I wish I had time. It’s hard because I’m only here temporarily, and I know how impossible it is to get a teaching job these days. Openings don’t come up very often, so I want to make the most of it, but I also don’t want to get too attached either.”
Darby nodded as she took a bite of the doughnut. Raspberry jam oozed out. “You’re on contract through spring break, right?”
“Yep.” He offered her a napkin.
“That’s three months.” Darby dabbed a spot of jelly from her chin. “My advice is to make the most of it. It’s great practice for when you eventually get a permanent position.”
“I think you mean if.” William’s face shifted.
“If?”
“It’s my parents.” He sighed and licked glaze from his finger. “My dad wants me to take over the family business. They’ve humored me with this ‘teaching thing,’ as they like to call it.”
“What do you mean, humoring you?”
“My dad has wanted me to take over the business forever, but now he wants to retire. He’s been pressuring me every minute of every day. I feel like I will let him down if I say no, but I feel like I will be miserable for the rest of my life if I say yes.”
“Can I offer some advice?” Darby rubbed her sugary hands together and sat up taller.
“Please.” William broke off another hunk of the fritter.
“Jim and I had big visions of retiring early and traveling the world. I never expected he wouldn’t be here.
Life is too short to do what someone else wants you to do.
You should do what makes you feel fulfilled.
” She blinked back tears at the memory of their many plans that would never come to fruition.
William nodded, but Darby could tell he wasn’t entirely in agreement. He changed the topic. “How was last night for you? It must have been rough.” His tone was tender and filled with concern.
Darby had been surprised by how well she and William had hit it off.
He almost felt like a son to her. Like everyone else in Bend, she had heard stories about the Graff family that ranged from classifying them on both ends of the spectrum.
Some people insisted the Graffs were philanthropic with the community’s best interest at heart.
In contrast, others claimed that their large financial donations were purely for show and to take advantage of the tax benefits.
If William was any indication, then Darby was in the first camp. From day one, he’d been humble, kind, and eager to do his best for the kids.
“It was hard,” Darby admitted. She sighed, not trusting herself to say more without breaking down.
William picked up on her emotion, once again shifting the conversation. “Hey, so I wanted to ask you about this ‘reading for fun’ campaign. I had an idea, but I’d like your thoughts before I go full force.”
“Sure.” Darby took another bite of the doughnut, grateful not to have to talk about Jim more.
“What do you think about doing a book gift exchange? I thought I could wrap a bunch of fun holiday reads like gifts, and then the entire class could do a white-elephant-style gift exchange.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“It’s not too cheesy?” William chuckled. “Cheesy.” His cheeks turned pink.
“What’s funny?” Darby squinted, wondering if she had missed something or was too old for the latest joke.