Page 112 of The Outsider
“Alright,” I said, standing. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter 31
Claire
For the next week, I planned the new curriculum in the study at Summerhurst, Jenna at my side. John and Kimmy took over my chores, and I worked day and night—not even because I had to, but because I wanted to. A new passion had ignited in my veins. I was good at this, and for someone who’d felt useless for so much of her time in the Wasteland, I cherished that new sense of purpose.
Jenna was, predictably, a good student, and a capable assistant. She read over the material, made suggestions, and asked insightful questions. She told me about the children, their habits, and the learning styles she’d observed. Together, we took on the mammoth task of cataloguing what turned out to be hundreds of books in the Lodge cellar. Noah and Isla were kind enough to get Noah’s mother to babysit Ely so that they could help us, and that made the work go faster. We divided the books into school books and general interest books, in the hope that one day, we could convince the council of the need for a public library.
I decided that I’d mostly help the older kids, since that was my area of expertise. Jenna preferred working with the younger children anyway, so I assigned them to her with the assumption that I’d be training and mentoring her as we went. Ideally, we’d have more teachers eventually, but that would require a proper schoolhouse.
After that, we tackled the various subjects, planning experiential learning lessons and field trips, such as visiting the Valley’s lumber mill. I updated each subject as best I could, and to my surprise, Asha was even willing to consult on the science curriculum, removing outdated information and making helpful additions.
“They don’t deserve you, Claire,” she said as she made a note in the margins. “But you’ve done a great job.”
“Thanks,” I said wearily, rubbing my eyes. “It’s been good for me.”
John supported me by adding books and supplies to the community scav list, as well as trading for things we needed. By the end of the week, he’d brought me a couple boxes of books that he’d bought from other Valley residents.
I chewed my lip as I sorted through them. Next week was when I planned to begin classes.
“But what if I go to the council and they say no?” I’d asked John, back in the schoolroom.
“So, don’t go to them,” he’d replied with a shrug. “Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I’ll put a notice up on the community board that you’re holding lessons, and anyone who wants to can attend. That way, you’re not forcing anything on anybody; you’re just using an unoccupied community space to offer free, voluntary classes.”
“Won’t they just drag me out of there?”
He huffed. “They’d have to go through me first. Look, school’s been out for a long time now, and the parents are getting antsy homeschooling. It’s already been brought up a bunch of times in meetings, but nothing’s getting done. So, you offer their kids an education, and they’ll show up…and once they do, it’ll be hard for the rest of them to complain about it.”
The following Monday morning, I drummed my fingers anxiously on the teacher’s desk in the schoolroom. Jenna and I had set everything up with John’s help, and in a few minutes, we’d wait outside for people to show up.
John covered my anxious fingers with his hand. “It’ll be okay, baby. You’ll see.”
To my surprise, when I went to open the door, there was a small crowd in front of the schoolroom. Perhaps a dozen children waited with their parents. Sarah was there with Jake, and Isla waited beside her with Ely, who was dozing in his baby wrap. Jenna had approached and was chatting with one of the other parents, who at least looked receptive to what she was saying.
“You’re all here for class?” I asked Sarah, who nodded, rubbing her pregnant belly.
“Jake is very excited,” she said, and as if in demonstration, the small boy next to her grinned.
“And I know Ely’s a little young for school,” Isla said with a smile, stroking her son’s small head, “but we wanted to show our support for Claire and Aunt Jenna, didn’t we, buddy?”
The baby groaned sleepily and hid his face in his mother’s breast, which made me chuckle.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, then turned to the crowd. “Everyone’s welcome, including parents, if they’d like to stay and see our new program.”
We filed into the room, and once everyone was seated, I stood at the head of the class, while Jenna stood at the back. We’d decided that since she liked working with the youngest children, she’d walk among the desks during the lesson and help them with anything that might be a bit advanced for their age group. Each desk had a worksheet that John had gotten printed for me at the lumber mill, which had a small press.
Suddenly, two dozen pairs of eyes were glued to me. But I had done this before. I took a deep breath, and some part of me reawakened. I launched into the lesson with ease, quelling my nerves by glancing at John, who stood at the back of the room, watching me with a small smile of encouragement.
We started with an exercise to learn everyone’s names, which involved spelling and writing. After that, the first lesson was a trial of some more interactive learning, which had been sorely lacking before. I’d asked John to be present not just for support, but for a class about outriders, and more broadly, the Valley itself.
I’d drawn a map of the Valley on the blackboard in chalk. I’d consulted with John beforehand about where all the homesteads in the Valley were in relation to each other.
“Do any of you know where you live inside the Valley?”
The children’s puzzled looks didn’t worry me. They were too young to know; I just needed their best guess.
“Mama says we live in the south,” a girl called Melanie offered.
