Newbie (8 page)

(I’m at lunch.) Kristen told me this morning you would be out for a while. I’m sure everything is okay. McKay is right—doctors are overcautious. But it’s worth it. Congratulations! Relax and enjoy. If I can to do anything for you or your class while you’re out, let me know. I’ll call you after school.

Sophie

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The week blurs by from lesson to lesson and day to day. I’m staying after school every day working on lesson plans, but I have this suspicion that I’m using lessons faster than I’m creating them. There’s been a little sabotage during lunchtime as well. My students have noticed that I’m in my room and find excuses to wander in. “Have to tell you something”, “Have to find something”, “Have to show you something”, “Have a bloody nose”—well that one was real.

On Thursday before lunch, we do music and push our desks toward the walls. I borrowed a cartoon music video from the library to explore creative movement. Translation—wild, hilarious dancing. Kids are jerking around with their eyes rolled up and their tongues flicking out. You can tell a few girls take dance lessons as they plié, leap, and spin, their heads turning left and right to approximate spotting. Others wave their arms or kick their feet as high as they will go, or twirl in circles. But we’re all laughing. I’m putting this lesson into the plan book for every month.

Suddenly, Tad is crying beside me. He’s peed his pants right there on the carpet. I give him a quick hug. “It’s okay. We’ll get you some new pants.” I send him to the office with a note to call home. It’s time for lunch, so I drop the other students off quickly and grab Tad a lunch. When I return to my room, Mr. Sam is starting to clean the carpet.

My closet is out of Diet Coke. Next week, I’m bringing a 24-pack. Digging some quarters out of the bottom of my purse, I head for the faculty room.

I round the corner and start plunking the coins into the vending machine. After the second quarter, I notice Liam out of the corner of my eye. He’s eating in here today. He must be subbing for someone—otherwise he’d be watching lunch recess. I pop in another quarter, and I have a very self-conscious feeling—I’m always doing something stupid when he’s around. Stealthily, I check my shirt buttons and zipper, drop in another quarter, feel to see if my hair is all right. Everything seems okay. My Coke drops out, and without stepping away from the machine, I wrench it open and chug a bit.

Turning back toward the door, I see Liam standing between me and the doorway. I smile at him and step to go around.

“Hi. Can I walk with you?”

Anytime. All the time. “Sure.” I say, wiping a dot of soda from the top of my lip. Should I say something? I could thank him for the flowers, but then maybe he didn’t mean it to be something special, and I would be making a big deal out of it. Not talking about flowers. I could ask about the kids that play soccer at recess with him. But then that would mean I’m watching him at recess. Would it sound like I’m a stalker?

As we near my room, Mr. Sam is packing out his carpet cleaner. “Thanks so much,” I say in passing. Liam looks at the carpet machine, then at me, his eyebrows lift as he smiles. But since he didn’t witness my potentially embarrassing situation this time, I’m not confessing anything.

Liam starts, “I’ve been wanting to ask you out.”

Ooh, ask, ask.

“I wondered if you want to go to dinner. . .”

Eeeeee.

“. . .with me on Saturday?”

YES! “Sure.” Wait—was he done asking?

“I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Six. ’Kay, see you then.” My pulse races.

“I might need to know where you live, or I’ll have to peek in your personnel file.” His lips quirked upward, teasing me.

“Oh. Here’s my address.” I write it on a sticky note and hand it to him.

“Wear something casual,” he suggests.

I pull the sticky note from his hand, write my phone number on it, then hand it back. “In case…you need to call for directions.” Or call me any other time. Just call.

He nods. “Bye.”

“See ya.” I turn away from the door as Liam disappears and pump my fists straight up. “Yesssss!”

“Um, we’ll be driving go-karts. Is that okay?” he asks, peeking back around the doorway.

I quickly adjust my arms to pretend I’m stretching. His eyes are bright and there’s that deep smile he wears constantly on the playground. Nope, didn’t fool him. “I can learn,” I say. He gives a little tap on the doorjamb and is gone.

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Subject: a little news?

Fri. Sept. 7, 200711:20 AM

hi sophie,

what’s happening??????? is my class alright?????? how is the sub??????

:) beth

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Subject: RE: a little news?

Fri. Sept., 7, 200711:43 AM

Hey Beth,

Why do short weeks feel long? It’s only been 3 ½ days, but it feels like 8. I think your sub is doing fine. I’ll check with her after school today and call you.

At least there haven’t been any emergencies in your room. My room—now that’s another story. Peed pants, carpet cleaner. I was kind of hoping Liam would be your sub, right across the hall, but he was already promised to some of the other teachers for meetings they plan to attend—rats! He’s not even in this hallway.

Oh—but he asked me out! *Swoon* I wanted to run across the hall to tell you. Go-karts and dinner. I’ll update you later.

Sophie

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Friday flies—math, reading, poems, social studies, lunch, read aloud, writing, phonics, PE, comprehension, spelling test, clean up, class meeting, dismiss. The only blip on the screen is talking to Mrs. Gregg after school to let her know Sean had a hard time in PE today. We were playing tag games and he wouldn’t follow the rules; like when you get tagged, you freeze and wait for your team to unfreeze you. He wouldn’t. Or even the rule that we don’t punch each other. He did, twice.

Mrs. Gregg listens quietly, then smiles at me like she is blowing me off. She takes Sean’s hand and walks away, saying, “Don’t worry dear. She’s not your mother.”

What? You said what to him? How about—it’s important to follow the rules. Or—when we follow rules we respect people. Or even—you won’t have friends if you punch people during tag. Or anything else!
Un. Real.

September 8, 2007

Newbie Blog:

This is HARD, With a Perk

My volunteer mentor has been out this week, and I’ve missed her! Really, it’s best for her to stay home for a while. I’m proud I’ve been able to hold my class together and teach lessons, but it’s hard to find time to plan new lessons.

Two more things I’ve learned:

1.
You’re on your own. You can plan with someone else. You can call the office for help or a sub, but when the children are there with you, you’re on.

2.
Kids are funny, so go ahead and laugh a lot. Plan lessons to bring out the humor. I suggest creative movement to music.

On a personal note, I have a date with Hot Sub tonight. He’s gorgeous and tall, 6’2”. His athletic body is only part of the story behind his nickname. He has thick brown hair, a little messy and pushed into the middle. He has green eyes that don’t hurt his chances of gaining more admirers. Definitely yummy! Don’t wait up.

I’ve changed four times, and now I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in Mina’s room, wearing some dark-wash skinny jeans with a cute concert tee from Sick Puppies. It’s actually Mina’s shirt, but I’ve been listening to a CD in case Liam asks me about the band.

Mina looks slowly at my clothes, perusing the details. “You look great. I think this is the one, but it looks better without you biting your lip.”

Hmm…I step back, turn left, turn right. Maybe I should change back into the first outfit. I turn, grabbing the tank and cardigan from the bed behind me.

“Stop. You look great, and you are not changing again.”

I freeze, still clutching the clothes, and turn to face her. “I’m not sure it’s sending the right first-date message.”

“You’re delusional. You look relaxed and carefree in a cute, sassy way. Definitely the right message.” The doorbell rings, and I drop the clothes to dash into Mina’s bathroom to finish my makeup.

“Ooh, Hot Sub is here. Do
not
change missy. I’ll answer the door. Pee before you leave— go-karts are a shaky ride.” She smiles and turns to get the door.

I quickly smear on some blush and mascara and give myself a once-over in the mirror. Popping another mint into my mouth. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Smile. As I round the corner into the front room, I hear Liam laughing as Mina is describing something to him. I pause for a second, looking at both curiously.

“Mina was just telling me the other side of the story about your first day at Rio Grande. Quite a day, huh?”

“Well, I guess so.” I try to sound light and carefree, like my shirt implies, as Liam walks over to the door.

“Nice to meet you, Mina, and thanks for the insight.”

Before I turn to leave, I give Mina a quizzical glare to which she just shrugs.

“Have a good time,” she calls as she shuts the door behind us.

Liam walks me to the passenger side of his Ridgeline and opens my door—his stock is going up. You know how on some dates, especially first dates, if they don’t even open the door when they are trying to impress you, well, you can bet it’s all downhill from there. So, good start.

We chat easily on the way. It takes me a while to notice the radio isn’t even on—another good sign. I like the idea of go-karts for a first date—we can learn to do something fun together, adding to the bonding.

Inside the go-kart track, I find out Liam has a locker with a custom helmet in it—I’ve been set up. He grabs my hand (all is forgiven) and we get me a helmet.

During a training video explaining the safety features of the cart, Liam begins tickling the back of my hand. I can’t concentrate at all. The movie tells how to cut the engine, stop a skid, and something I didn’t catch. Liam leans close and practically whispers in my ear, telling me about his family; father, mother, older sister, younger brother and grandparents in England, but I can’t tell you how to run the cart. I think it’s all part of Liam’s plan to win.

The light turns green, and we start. I have one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. Coming up to the first turn, I keep the gas down. The back tires skid a bit, but I think I can take the turns faster.

I round another corner and notice Liam following my cart very closely. In fact, I think he bumps my car each time the teenager on duty looks away. The training video clearly said no bumping. It would be “a cause for ejection from the track.” He bumps my car again. Fine—I slow down. Liam speeds up to go around me and I gas it, turning my wheel sharply to the left, smacking his cart with mine. I’m still in front, but he’s laughing and gives his cart more gas. I manage to stay in front, but he looks determined to get past me.

Around the next corner, he makes a move to bump my car out of the way. As my back wheels slide, he rams me again, but a bit too hard. His front bumper catches on my back right bumper, causing his cart to slide with mine. The two carts behind us don’t react fast enough. One of them T-bones Liam’s cart, breaking his bumper away from mine, and he hits the wall. The other cart smacks into the back of me, slinging my cart forward into the wall too.

An air horn blasts, and two guys come out to rearrange us back on the track. They shoot an angry look at the driver of the cart that T-boned Liam and the one that crashed into me and yell, “Watch what you’re doing. Next time you’re out of here.” Liam gives me a wink and a smile, and we start up again.

No way is Liam getting in front of me. We only have two more laps for our race. I gas it, thinking all or nothing. When he tries to pass, I cut him off. He can’t do anything sneaky—the teenagers are keeping a close eye on us now. Checkered flag! I don’t win, but I beat Liam—feels like winning.

“Thanks for the driving lesson,” he teases while we walk to my front door, his right hand guiding me up the walk.

“Anytime.”
And I really mean anytime, all the time, whenever
, I think as we step on my porch.

His hand tightens on my back and I turn to face him. His left hand brushes my hair from my face and over my shoulder, then kisses my jaw below my right ear. “See you Monday,” he whispers, his lips brushing along my cheek. Oh, more of that would be nice. Then he leaves.

I sit down to email Beth. What do I say? He’s. . .I really have no words for this. Everything about him draws me in. The sensation of his lips brushing my cheek is still there. I turn off my computer and go to bed.