“Of the Lewis and Clark expedition.”
The Lewis and…? Shit. I’d been around Evanne’s age when we’d left Scotland, and I’d obviously taken all of the required history classes to graduate, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember anything about Lewis and whoever.
“What part did you need help with?” I asked, hoping I sounded casually interested, the way a good parent would when it came to assisting their child with homework.
“My spelling. And, um, if the dates are right.”
I let out a mental stream of curses and forced the smile to stay on my face.
“I have to write it myself because Ms. Browne says it’s important, but we’re allowed to have our parents check it to make sure it’s right.”
Personally, I had my doubts about how many of the other parents at Kurt Wright were hands-on with their children, but I didn’t intend to craft my parenting to meet the standards of the families at Evanne’s school, no matter how prestigious it was. Occasional help, particularly as I worked things out with my schedule, would be acceptable. Brushing off a homework assignment on someone else because I didn’t want to do it wasnotacceptable.
“After your snack, how about we sit down together and work?” I suggested. “That way, if you have any questions, I’ll be right there to answer them.”
And I’d have my laptop right there too.
It sounded like a good plan in my head, but when we actually settled down to do it, I realized there was something I hadn’t taken into consideration. While it was okay to say that I didn’t remember exactly how long it took a group of early nineteenth century explorers to make it across the Western United States, then use my computer or my phone to look up the information, that didn’t work all the time. My daughter was growing up in a world where it was easy to ask machines to do the legwork, but that didn’t mean she could rely on always having that information at her fingertips.
Then there were other things that parents shouldn’t have to look up at all.
Things like spelling. Words that were in her book, but I didn’t want to even attempt to find.
And how many times could I justify telling her that she needed to look things up herself? When did it cross from building character and work ethic to shutting her out because I didn’t want to do it? And how hypocritical was it of me to tell her she needed to learn how to do things herself when the intention behind me making her do it wasn’t so that she’d learn that everything wasn’t handed to her, but rather to avoid it myself?
All these questions swirled around in my head as I struggled to determine the best course of action. When I wasn’t helping her, I couldn’t concentrate on my own work because I kept wondering if she was okay, if she’d stop asking me for help when she saw how much I hated it, if she’d think I hatedher…
By the time I tucked her into bed, I was more exhausted than she was, but her homework was done.
I couldn’t keep doing it this way though. I’d thought I could handle everything the way Keli had, but now I knew that wasn’t the case. I could have called Theresa and asked her to come back down and help while I found a tutor, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of making my parents disappointed in me.
That just meant I needed to do what I’d always done and figure it out. The first step with that would be to schedule a meeting with Evanne’s teacher to get details about what was expected of the students and perhaps even ask for upcoming work so I would have time to do the research myself.
It would cut into my work, but I couldn’t see a better option.
I was Evanne’s father, and I’d do things right, no matter what it meant for me.
Eighteen
Lumen
Since my students’gym class took place on Wednesday afternoons, I knew I’d have time to enjoy having the room to myself as I did my lesson plans, but just as I’d gotten everything set up the way I liked, my least-favorite person at the school swept inside with his usual arrogant, leering grin. I’d managed to avoid being alone with him since our first meeting, but now I was cornered.
He wore the same slate-gray suit he always seemed to wear, but with a slightly different-colored shirt that was never completely wrinkle-free. His ties were always a little crooked, his face never completely shaven-smooth. I hated the idea of being shallow enough that those things could make me think poorly of him.
Then he opened his mouth, and I remembered that I wasn’t superficial after all…and that his inappropriate behavior wasn’t an isolated thing.
“Happy hump day,MizzBrowne,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Harvey. How may I help you?” I asked.
“Straight to business as always,” he laughed, knocking his knuckles against my desk as he got closer.
I reminded myself that it was a bad idea to push my chair away from him. Like out into the hallway away.
“I came to tell you about an email we got from one of your kids’ parents.”
My stomach sank. I couldn’t be getting complaints already, could I? Sure, some of the mothers and fathers I’d met at the open house had seemed a little demanding, but I’d gotten the impression that they weren’t patient enough to go through channels. The fact that they’d reached out to the vice principal didn’t bode well.
