Vivian

The weekend was one of the best we have had in a long time. We enjoyed it as an entire family, which is rare for us. This morning when we left for work, there was a sense of relief radiating from both of us. We made the decision to leave, and I could feel Will’s enthusiasm for that change when he kissed me goodbye this morning; he was rattling with it.

I’m certainly thrilled as well, but as I’ve gone from class to class today, or when I saw my kiddos in the hallway of our tiny little school going to breakfast this morning, I found myself somewhat sad about the things we would be leaving behind. I love the staff that I work with, and that there are preschoolers in the same building as high school kids. The dynamic creates a type of community that isn’t easy to replicate, and I doubt I’ll find it when we move. It’s definitely something that I’ll miss.

“How was your weekend?” Kerri James, our social studies teacher, asks as we sit down for lunch in the teachers’ lounge.

“It was perfect,” I tell her, pulling out my chair and quickly taking out my packed lunch. We only have a fifteen-minute break because of how our junior high and high school classes overlap. “Will was off, so we were able to go to Blake’s soccer game together, and Char watched the kids so we could go to dinner afterwards. It was nice. Sunday we just stayed home; I had a ton of grading to do since I covered all of those classes last week.” I don’t tell her about our decision to move; that’s something I plan to put off as long as possible. Kerri is one of the few people that I’ve grown close to here, and it will only make things tense for the remainder of the year. I know that she would be supportive; it’s not that, but it would create this lingering cloud I’d like to avoid for a while.

“I hear ya; it always kills my weekend when I pick up a class. So, was Hot Rob involved in your weekend?” she asks, scooting her school lunch tray towards herself, and tossing her salad with her fork. I roll my eyes at the question. Kerri is one of the few single, attractive teachers at the school. She’s tall, with bright blue eyes and long curly blonde hair, with the sweetest, most caring personality to match. How she’s still single is beyond me. This town is not exactly the best place for single people; the sea full of fish that we all hear about is more like a dry creek bed of minnows. It’s a great place for raising children, but it’s horrible if you’re looking for love.

It’s no secret that she is infatuated with Rob. And if she actually went after him, instead of carrying on her passive aggressive high school approach towards him, they might actually hit it off. Kerri has always had a crush on him, even if she won’t entirely admit it, and I know that when Rob found himself back on the market, she thought she won the lottery. Has she cashed in the ticket though? Hell no. Will she ever act on her own? Probably not. She’ll just secretly hate every woman that he dates. If I thought Rob was ready, I would set them up, but right now I think it would be a train wreck in the making. He’s still so damaged from the divorce, and now I’ll be moving.

“No, we didn’t see him, surprisingly.” I laugh before tearing into my sandwich. “How about you; anything wild and crazy you need to share?”

She nearly chokes on her chocolate milk. “Have you forgotten where you live? The most exciting part of my weekend is usually the school football game, or an 80’s chick flick marathon on TBS. I don’t lead an overly-stimulating life; I haven’t been on a date in over a year.”

“Oh, come on; it’s not that bad,” I tell her, knowing full well that her dating life probably is as sad as the picture she’s painting.

She drops her fork and tilts her head, looking at me like I’m insane. “I have an Adam and Eve rewards card, and when I call into the 1-800 number, the sales women know me by name. Which is not all that bad when you’re placing an order to surprise your man, but mine are all for individual use.”

“Okay,” I giggle. “I’ll help you find someone, at least to help you unpack your toy box.”

“Hey, if you have connections with Hot Rob, he can pack and unpack whatever he’d like at my house.”

“I don’t think he’s ready to date just yet, but when he is, I’ll be sure to put you on the short list,” I tell her, placing my leftovers back into my lunch sack.

“Short list!” she exclaims, glaring at me. “I better be the only woman on that list.” We both laugh, but then she looks down at her watch and takes one last bite of her lunch. “We have to get going; the minions will be in my room any minute.”

We push back from our chairs and head towards her classroom. Kerri and I try to combine English and social studies assignments as much as possible. Right now, we are in the middle of presentations with the eighth graders in a team teaching assignment. The students had to research the Virginia, New Jersey, and Connecticut plans, create a poster supporting one of the plans, and then present it to the class.

There is already a crowd of students waiting for us when we make it to her door. We squeeze through to unlock the door and the wave of sweaty 14-year-olds barrel through to grab their posters and find a seat. As soon as everyone is seated, Kerri addresses the class, reminding them of our expectations.

“You guys have done an excellent job on your projects so far; there are only a few people left that need to present. We should be finished with all the presentations today. Remember, Mrs. Matthews is grading your presentation skills and the arguments that you address within your poster, and I’ll be grading the accuracy of the historical information that you share. Everyone, let’s be good listeners. Now, is there anyone that would like to go first?”

I take a seat in the back of the room with my pile of rubric grading sheets, as a sea of hands fly into the air to be called upon. Kerri calls on someone, and she takes her seat next to me.

Halfway through the class hour, the number of volunteers has dwindled, and we start to randomly pick the remaining students left to present. I draw a name from the selection sticks from my class name jar, and Sarah’s name is pulled. She is an above-average student, and I am surprised that she wasn’t one of the first ones to volunteer.

Immediately, she freaks out and refuses to go to the front. “I can’t present, Mrs. Matthews,” she says.

“Is your poster complete?” Kerri intercepts.

“Yes, but I don’t think I should share it.”

Kerri and I look at each other, confused by the situation; Sarah isn’t usually shy. “Honey, you do great work. I’m sure it’s fine,” I tell her. “If you’re a little worried about being up there alone, just pick a friend to stand up there with you, and they can hold your poster while you talk to us.”

She looks to her best friend Alison, who looks down at Sarah’s poster and immediately starts to laugh. “I don’t think she should present, Ms. James.”

“Girls, what’s going on?” Kerri asks.

Alison runs to the class marker basket and starts drawing on Sarah’s poster. “I fixed it, I think. She can present.”

The girls begin to make their way to the front, but I stop them, worried about what’s on the poster. Concealing the poster, Alison speaks for Sarah, who is hiding her face in her hands with embarrassment. “There was a minor typo on the poster, Mrs. Matthews, but I fixed it. It should be okay now,” she reassures me.

“Bring it here and let us see,” Kerri tells them. By now, the class is struggling to hide their sneers and giggles. Information about what exactly is on this poster has not surprisingly made its way through the class, and they are all trying to hold themselves together.

Sarah stays planted where she’s at, so Alison brings the poster to our desks in the back of the room. She turns it around and announces, “See? I think I did a pretty good job of fixing it.”