“Of course I am,” I answer automatically before clarifying. “Unless we’re talking about the ten percent of parents who’d rather I wasn’t gay. Or the other teachers who wish I’d stick to the boring, test-centric lesson plans and not turn everything into a musical. Or the vice principal who wants a little action in exchange for ignoring the complaints. Ugh. Please forget I said that.”
I told Bex, because she’s Bex, but I haven’t let anyone else know what I was going through for the last year. Dealing with a closeted slimeball who was using my school as a stepping stone for his career. One who actually hated children, by the way, and wasn’t that fond of the educational system in general. Oh, and he thought it would be really cool if I bent over his desk while pretending to be stuck in detention. Skeeve City.
Michael’s smile evaporates and the seductive atmosphere instantly leaves the building. Why didn’t I just agree and shut up?Yes, I’m wonderful, let’s wash up and bone.That’s all I had to say.
“I really do love teaching those kids. I hear from the old-timers that this last decade has been one of the rougher ones to be in the education business, but things should be looking up again soon.” Maybe. “And for the moment, I’m enjoying taking a break from all the stuff that’s not so great.”
“Like the vice principal?” he growls.
“Yes.” And the lack of funding. And the school board’s ridiculous pronouncements. And the constant textbook changes that are based on politics instead of actual history. “But he’s leaving next year,” I add, needing to wipe that look off his face and remind myself there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. “Getting a promotion in another district. Those offices turn overso often at my school, we barely get to know their names. In this case, it’s a good thing.”
Michael doesn’t look any happier. “I’m still sorry you had to go through that.”
He doesn’t ask if I reported him, I wonder if it’s because he knows making that kind of noise is a good way to paint a target on my own back. Ishouldhave reported him, and I would have if the few people I could have complained to didn’t celebrate the guy as having the right upwardly-mobile stuff. My fear of unemployment came up against my revolutionary spirit, and that spirit blinked and slunk away like a coward so I could keep my job. And then I decided to take a break. I wasn’t running. I was hitting pause to regroup.
“I want you to be willing to take a chance. With your work. With a person.”
I’ve thought about other options over the years. Teaching at a more innovative school where I’d have some control over the curriculum. Private tutoring. Becoming a professor. I have a friend who went from teaching students to teaching teachers, and she said she loves it.
But all of those options mean leaving my middle school, and my goal was to go back there and make the kind of difference my teachers made for me. How can I leave it behind?
Shaking off those dark thoughts, I focus on Michael and slip off my shirt. “It’ll all be worth it in another fifteen or sixteen years, when one of my kids wins a Grammy or becomes president and says it’s all because I made them memorize a song about the states. Or told them a talkative man named Gouverneur Morris—who once lost a leg running from a jealous husband—became known as the ‘Penman of the Constitution’ instead of Cheaty McPeg-Leg, which means that anything is possible.”
I laugh at his expression. “The answer is yes. I can do this all day.”
He stares at me intently. “All year. Didn’t you mention something last night about a summer camp you and your friends run?”
I raise my brows. “You’re starting me a sexy bath, I’m shirtless and you want to talk about my summer camp?”
“I need a distraction from Stinky Thomas.”
I snort. “Fair enough. We’re actually really proud of what we’ve accomplished with minimal funding. Val donated the land—it’s across the lake from his house—and threw up some cute little buildings for us to do activities in. Every weekend for a month, the kids from our neighborhood show up to have fun and learn something. Connor’s all about Mathletics, tying knots and wilderness survival.” I tilt my head. “Looking back, I should have paid more attention to those classes.”
I’m sure he’ll make me participate next time.
“Val’s lessons usually revolve around art, construction and money management. Bex shows up sporadically—she worked nights until recently—to teach them everything they need to know about computers and safe-but-fun things to do with drones.” I point to my bare chest in case he forgot where it was. “I discuss surviving bullies, loving yourself, and how vital it is to be a well-informed voting citizen, before choreographing at least one musical number.”
He grins at that, like I knew he would.
“We’re aiming for well-rounded fun,” I defend firmly. “And they leave with all the donated school supplies we’ve been able to gather throughout the year. We’ve been doing it for five years, and the kids and parents love it.”
“It sounds impressive. It also sounds like you never take a vacation.”
“I’m literally taking one right now.”
“You’re here for a singing job.”
“But I’ve spent the weekend lounging around and eating gourmet meals, and now I’m about to luxuriate in a giant bath. If it walks like a duck...”
“How long has it been since you’ve been out of state or out of the country?”
I shrug uncomfortably. Michael’s mentioned how much he travels for work and, being a Demir, he’s probably done it for pleasure as well. Seen places I can only imagine visiting in my not-in-my-budget daydreams. I’ve had a few weekend trips to New York for Broadway reasons, and stayed at a hotel in Philadelphia once when I chaperoned my school’s history club before we lost funding. But other than that? I’ve spent at least ninety percent of my life tethered to the same ten city blocks.
Bex was right, damn it. None of us have been champions of personal growth, have we?
Connor, Val and I are all exactly where and who we were a decade ago. I’m still a workaholic who doesn’t date or take vacations. Val, even with his career success, is still taking care of his elderly parents and waiting for Bex to notice his crush instead of getting a personal life. Connor still lives with me and lets me do his laundry.
In our defense, I think most people live that way. We are creatures of habit with strong survival instincts. When we find the right rhythm, we’re loathe to march to a different beat or learn any new steps. Seriously, who has time for ifs and maybes when we have bills to pay and responsibilities to live up to?
