Well, that, and there’s less chance of people seeing me in the street, whispering and staring, wondering how I can live with myself after everything that’s happened.
Overall, I’m excited for this change. I shoot a quick text to my mom and let her know Everett is on his way home before heading toward the bathroom, ready for the bath I said I was going to take.
I better relax while I can. If teaching middle school is anything like experiencing it, I won’t be relaxing again until winter break.
* * *
In a town of under twenty thousand people, St. Morgan’s school district splits its middle schools into two separate locations. Sixth and seventh graders attend Thomas Jones Middle School on the north side of town, while eighth and ninth graders attend Vautrin Upper Middle School on the south side.
In New Carnegie, moving from eighth grade to ninth grade is a bit of a graduation experience. Ninth grade equates high school, right? Becoming afreshman. I try to imagine myself at fourteen years old and know for a fact I would’ve been pissed if anyone told me I graduated eighth grade, only to still be considered a middle school student.
Yeah, I’m definitely going to blame the school district for any ninth-grade sass dished my way.
On Friday morning, I roll into the faculty parking lot a good half hour before eight, dressed in my teaching best—ankle boots, blue jeans, a white pinstripe blouse, a navy scarf wrapped loosely around my neck, and a tan leather jacket. It’s my first day, so I spent extra time this morning on my makeup, styling and winding my red-ombre goddess braids around in a larger woven braid atop my head.
One of the office secretaries lets me in. She appears to be barely five feet tall, middle-aged, pale, and stocky. “Oh, you’re finally here. That’s so exciting! Are you nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. Fortunately, being a teacher isn’t quite like most jobs. I’m not going into this not knowing what to expect, and I already had my entire lesson plan for the first quarter laid out and approved by senior school leaders. Now it’s just a matter of meeting the other teachers and the students, who are definitely the variables. If Back-to-School Night is anything like it was when I was a kid, a lot of school lockers are about to get a makeover.
“Don’t be. This is a great school.” The secretary extends her hand to me. “I’m Renee Fenton.”
“Lucy Warren.” We shake hands, and she leads me to the school office.
“The principal should be in soon, so you won’t be waiting long.”
“Anything I should know?”
“She’s a hard-ass,” she replies in a quieter voice. “Really a stickler for the rules and runs a tight ship. But once you get used to her, you start to appreciate her.”
“Good to know. Thank you.”
True to Renee’s word, I don’t have to wait long at all. Principal Judith Carlisle flies through the office door, walking with purpose in a gray business suit. I can barely tell her age, but she’s definitely mature, slender with porcelain skin, and dressed like she belongs on the board of a mega corporation.
“Good morning, Renee,” she clips but doesn’t pause to say hello.
“Good morning!” Renee answers brightly. “Our new teacher is here—”
The principal’s office door closes with a loud bang behind her.
Renee winces. “It’s going to be a busy day.”
“I imagine so,” I agree politely, though I’m not thrilled at being completely ignored. It’s said people are rude in big cities, but that’s on the street, not the office. Aren’t Midwest folks supposed to be friendly, polite? I anticipated a warmer small-town welcome than this.
Be nice, Lucy,I remind myself.Good impressions, benefit of the doubt. Don’t make enemies on your first day.
“What did you think of that email this morning?” Renee asks.
“What email?”
“Oh. Maybe your email settings aren’t fully set up yet.” She pushes past my confusion, brightening again. Everything about Renee is cheery and optimistic. When she smiles, I can’t help but smile back. The kids must love her.
“Vautrin got selected as one of the five national schools by BioNex,” she says, lowering her voice as though letting me in on some big secret. I lean forward in my chair to hear her better. “You know their Education Assistance Program? Our new android is being delivered today.”
That makes me sit a little straighter in my seat. “Really? That’s fantastic!”
I’ve seen androids all over the place in New Carnegie, and even though my family never got around to purchasing one, I can’t deny how useful they are. To have one in a school, where teachers are already underpaid and overworked? Even one android could go a long way. Plus, the ones I have interacted with have always been sweet and accommodating. Never a mean bone in their bodies.
Or steel mainframes. However that works.
