Chapter 18 Parents Day
Parents Day
After a week of testing out Jack’s conversational method, I felt like I was finally getting the hang of it.
While it was a little uncomfortable the first few days, once I got going, it felt as natural as breathing.
And if there was ever a lag in the conversation—if the students looked like they were drifting away—that’s what the pop bottles were for.
I used the strange tool tentatively in my first couple of lessons, but had grown bolder after a few days of practice. David Masterson would never sleep in my class again.
Even if I didn’t get this job, Jack had given me a gift that I could use anywhere. I would take his methods, blend them with my own personal style, and make something new that was just mine.
I wanted to thank him for his help, but I didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about doing that.
He was no longer hostile to me, but he continued to be standoffish.
In the brief time between classes, he would politely ask how things were going before hurrying to set up for his own lessons.
I rarely saw more than glimpses of him outside of class—running with the cross-country team or laughing with Alan over a cafeteria table.
Perhaps that was the answer—I could enlist Alan’s help. He would know what Jack liked, and then I could leave a little thank-you surprise outside his apartment.
Alan, it turned out, was ecstatic to tell me all about Jack when I caught him on his way out of dinner one evening.
“But seriously, you must have realized Jack is a huge nerd. He likes long runs on the beach, staying up all night discussing Star Wars fan theories, sharing a LEGO set by candlelight…”
“Oh, stop. He does not.” I laughed and slapped Alan on the arm.
“Well, no, not really. Building LEGOs by candlelight would be murder on the eyes. You really need a well-lit space for that. But the rest is all true.” He placed one hand over his heart and held up the other as if swearing an oath.
On the surface it was one of the stranger and less productive conversations I’ve had, but there were a few usable nuggets in the ramble.
I already knew Jack liked running, but a running-related gift didn’t feel very personal.
I knew a little about Star Wars through Silvia who was a huge Adam Driver fan, but not enough to pick something meaningful for him.
That left LEGO. LEGO actually seemed like a perfect option.
It was thoughtful and whimsical and not as generic as a bottle of wine—which I had considered before talking to Alan.
A quick search online and I found exactly what I was looking for, and I ordered it for next day delivery. I smiled to myself as I keyed out a message to Silvia letting her know the latest.
Silvia: Let me get this straight - first you practically hook up with him, then you have a study date, and now you’re buying him gifts?? Are you sure you’re not dating???
I scowled at my phone. We’d already been over this.
Mel: It’s not like that. It’s completely professional.
Silvia: No definition of professional includes his tongue down your throat.
Mel: There were extenuating circumstances.
Silvia: Drunk and horny?
I pulled a face as I keyed out my response.
Silvia had an innate way of seeing right through my bullshit and finding what I was actually feeling.
But this time, she was off the mark. I genuinely liked Jack.
He was funny and smart and pleasant to be around now that he wasn’t exclusively a grumpy asshole. Plus, his teaching help was invaluable.
But something in me wouldn’t let me send that reply. I deleted the novella I had written in his defense and keyed out a short reply instead.
Mel: I’m only human.
***
Two days later, I dressed in my most professional—most boring—teacher's outfit and styled my hair into a tasteful bun that my mother would approve of.
I applied more makeup than I usually did, taking time to contour and highlight.
Then, changing my mind, I washed it all off and painted my face with my usual natural style and tinted lip gloss.
I just had to survive an hour of parent-teacher conferences, then I would be free to enjoy the rest of the Homecoming weekend festivities. Ashley and Phyllis had invited me to the football game tonight. The dance was tomorrow, but I planned on sitting that one out after the bonfire.
Jack and I were scheduled to meet with the parents of all of our chemistry students in one combined session. I arrived at Franklin Hall thirty minutes early to triple check our room and begin setting up our planned demonstrations.
A little spark of pleasure zipped through me at the sight of him, already in the room, straightening a chair. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find him here early too.
His lips tipped into a soft smile when he saw me. “Are you ready?”
I shrugged and smiled back, not bothering to hide my nerves from him. In general, I liked people and was good at dealing with them. But these people were sharks, cut from the same cloth as my parents.
“As ready as I’m going to be. It’s happening whether I like it or not, right?”
Jack’s smile widened until I could see his teeth. He looked infinitely more relaxed than I felt. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve done this many times. Parents just want reassurance that their children are getting what they need, and in this case, getting the best education money can buy.”
I meandered up to where he stood next to the teacher’s desk and picked up one of the three pop bottles lined up along the edge. Newbury parents had high expectations and could sniff out a bad deal from a mile away. Burke or not, I was sure they would be able to tell that I was the weaker educator.
“I’m not sure I check that particular box,” I said.
I didn’t have to look at Jack to hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.”
I sniffed. He didn’t get it. While no one person could hurt me this weekend, they did collectively have the ears of the board of directors and Headmaster Richmond.
My employment was already in a precarious position after the first exam.
A few bad words from irritated parents, and my days at Newbury would be over.
My chest felt tight at the thought of leaving. I loved my little apartment, I adored the campus, and I had friends in TJ, Ashley, and the hens. Plus, there was Jack and our… situation. I couldn’t go without knowing if there was really something between us.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, and my eyes dropped to the floor. “I just really don’t want them to hate me.”
Jack’s feet appeared in front of me. He hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my face up until I met his keen eyes. “You are going to charm them like you charm everyone. They will love you.”
Feet planted on the floor, I felt dizzy. This man was the king of mixed signals, and I was powerless to avoid his attention.
“Plus, I’ll be right here with you. We’re in this together.”
His tune had completely changed since August, especially in the last week or so since we started lesson planning together. It had taken a while, but I could finally see the kind, quiet man that Richmond and Phyllis and TJ saw from day one.
As we continued to stare into each other’s eyes, my breaths became shallow and my anxiety slipped away. Part of me wished he would lean in and kiss me again.
It was a foolish, reckless thought—parents were due to arrive any minute.
But Jack wasn’t foolish or reckless.
He would pull away.
Any second.
I needed him to. I didn’t have the strength to do it myself.
Every time I was close to him, I found myself less and less concerned about consequences and more and more concerned about staying in his orbit.
He tipped his head down, touching his lips to my temple. I tilted my head back, and his lips brushed the corner of my mouth. It was probably an accident. He couldn’t have meant to. But then his lips grazed along my lower lip, and my breath caught in my chest.
Before I had time to think—to react—we heard voices in the hall.
I felt as much as heard him groan before he stepped away. Cold air rushed to fill the place he had just been, an endothermic reaction pulling away all of my warmth.
The first parents entered the room, snapping me out of my inappropriate thoughts. Their child was one of my third period students, and I stepped forward to greet them.
“Milo is so bright. It’s a pleasure to have him in the class.” It was half true. Milo was a bright kid, but he was also a sneaky shit half the time. I had been forced to confiscate iPhones on more than one occasion.
As more parents filed in, slipping into the seats usually occupied by their children, my anxiety ratcheted back up. The muscles in my neck twisted into knots, and I rolled my shoulders in a vain attempt to release some tension.
In a minute, Jack was beside me, a soothing hand running up my spine. He leaned over to speak low in my ear. “Just picture them all in their underwear.”
I snorted a laugh and looked up at him. He was smiling down at me, completely at ease. I took comfort in his composure.
“Shall we get started?” I asked.
“I think so.” He removed his hand from where it rested on my lower back and reached for the first pop bottle.
Several parents jumped and gasped at the loud bang. Chatter stopped immediately, and all eyes were on us.
“Welcome, parents! I am Mr. Cooper, and this is Ms. Burke, and we have had the pleasure of teaching chemistry to your children this semester. Since Mr. Stephens retired last year, we have been approaching chemistry education a little differently than was previously done.”
I stepped forward and continued our prepared remarks. “While we do make sure there is a strong foundation of chemistry fundamentals, we aim to help students understand practical applications of the theory to not only help bring the material to life, but to help it stick better in their brains.”
“The pop bottles,” Jack continued, “are one of the tools that we have been employing this year to keep the students on their toes.”
The presentation continued for the next twenty minutes with Jack and I presenting together as though we did it every day. The way each of us responded to the other person’s most subtle leads felt like a dance—or like good sex. We were completely in sync.
For their part, the parents were an engaged and willing audience for our demonstrations.
Their oohs and ahs during the coloring-changing oxidation-reduction experiment felt like a personal compliment.
By the time we finished our presentation, I was feeling a heady sense of accomplishment.
All that remained was ten minutes for questions and answers.
It should be a breeze, and then we were free for the weekend.
Having never taught before this year, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this part.
I guessed there would be questions about the curriculum.
Or perhaps there would be questions about standardized testing.
I was no expert on AP exams or college admissions exams, but I was confident that the essential material was being covered in both mine and Jack’s classes.
Unfortunately, no one told the parents. And they had questions about exactly one thing—me. This wasn’t a Q&A. It was a firing squad.
“So you’ve never taught before? This is your first job?”
“What makes you qualified?”
“How much are they paying you?”
My tongue was thick and dry in my mouth. I tried to keep a smile on my face, but there was no way it reached my eyes.
“Well,” I started, praying my voice didn’t shake, “as an alumna of this school, I have a unique perspective of the expectations and culture. And as for my qualifications, I have a bachelor’s in chemistry from Columbia University with an emphasis on primary education which—”
“But you’ve never had to deal with students before?” pressed a woman with a pinched expression.
“I heard that your sections performed significantly worse on the first exam than Mr. Cooper’s sections,” a man in a pinstriped suit accused. Other parents leaned in, smelling blood in the water.
My brain sputtered to a halt. How the hell did he know that? Had his kid told him? Or perhaps he knew someone in the administration. Not that it mattered. It was true—my sections had performed poorly. This man simply caught me and called me out.
Dozens of pairs of eyes bore into me, ranging from merely annoyed to downright hostile.
The room was impossibly hot. A bead of sweat formed on the nape of my neck and rolled down my spine, sending a shiver through my body despite the oppressive heat.
“What do you have to say?” snapped a woman with a blonde I’d-like-to-speak-the-manager haircut.
“Well, I…” Words failed me. I was trying my best, but I knew that wasn’t what these people wanted to hear. They didn’t care about my best. They expected the best.
“Ms. Burke and I work closely to make sure all of the students receive equal and thorough instruction.” Jack stepped forward, drawing their eyes to him.
“We both teach the same curriculum and syllabus, and as of two weeks ago, we are also collaborating on our exact lesson plans to create the highest level of consistency possible. Ms. Burke was hired for this position based on her qualifications, and since the beginning of the semester she has demonstrated an intense passion and willingness to improve her skills in order to provide the education your children deserve. I, personally, have complete confidence in her abilities, and you should as well.”
All eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Jack and me, but no one said anything else.
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” I said. The words felt small and hollow after his impassioned praise. I didn’t particularly want a knight in shining armor coming to my rescue, but that’s not what this had felt like. He seemed completely genuine, and I was touched that he thought so highly of my potential.
He clapped his hands together and stared down the parents. “Now that that’s settled, does anyone have questions about chemistry?”
I, personally, had a lot of questions—and arguably they were about chemistry, though not the kind of chemistry that he was talking about.
He didn’t hate me.
He thought I was a good teacher.
He had confidence in me.
This little speech was a complete one-eighty from the things he had said to me all those weeks ago.
After the parents filed out of the room at the end of the presentation, I lingered, needing to talk to Jack more than I needed air. I didn’t know what I would say, but I had to say something. I needed to know if he really meant the things he said.
I didn’t get the chance. Jack was out the door a step after the last parent, leaving me alone in the classroom with some empty pop bottles.