I kept up the pace until I reached the clubhouse, though that was a big name for such an unimpressive building. There was someone on the elliptical, so I went for the treadmill, instead. I put in twenty minutes until the guy finished, and then I shifted. Forty minutes later, I was ready to call it a night. Swiping away the sweat, I headed back.
In the streaky purple twilight, Ty was helping Sam from his car seat. After last night, I wasn’t sure how to act, so I waved and kept walking. They responded with raised hands, a bright smile from the kid and a hungry stare from Ty that made my panties glow in the dark.
I won’t survive this, will I? But the fireworks will be spectacular.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday started strong.
When the professor called on me in my first class, I knew the answer and avoided his caustic wit. If you weren’t on point, Lynch was known for saying things like, “So you want to teach yet you can’t be bothered to prepare for my class. In five years, I hope you’re blessed with students exactly like you.” The rest of the day went just as well.
I grabbed a sandwich at a convenience store on the way to Rainbow Academy and ate it in the car. Guilt flared when I remembered what Ms. Parker had said about taking care of myself. So far, I was doing a top-notch job.
At the day-care center, I parked in my usual spot and ran in. The director waved. “I need you in Mrs. Trent’s room. Her assistant called in sick.”
“Got it.”
“Nadia...I was wondering if you’d be interested in a permanent classroom assignment? This is the fourth time Elaine has called off in two weeks. I don’t think she’s going to work out.”
“You’d put me in Mrs. Trent’s room?”
Mrs. Keller nodded. “It’s a good placement. Four-year-olds aren’t as trying as the twos.”
“Could I still work a flexible schedule?” I hesitated, wondering how Ty would feel about me spending that much time with Sam.
“Sure. Instead of hiring a full-time assistant to replace Elaine, I’ll advertise for a floater to cover the hours when you aren’t around.”
And two part-timers meant she didn’t have to pay benefits. But I couldn’t blame her for cutting costs where she could. Times were tough.
“Okay, sign me up.”
“Excellent. I’ll have a couple of things for you to sign when you finish up today.”
Because certain ratios had to be observed—for four-year-olds, it was 12:1, children to adult—they had the assistant director, Jan Greenly, in the classroom with Mrs. Trent. The kids were doing free play, a short period after lunch, which I’d just missed, and Mrs. Trent was tidying up the room. Miss Greenly looked relieved when I showed up, and she hurried to her office without looking back.
Mrs. Trent laughed. “That woman much prefers paperwork to dealing with kids. So I hear you’re joining us, going forward?”
“Wow, Keller was sure of me, huh?”
“To be honest, I asked for you.”
I was flattered, but... “How come?”
“You’re patient, good with kids, and you haven’t missed a day in the last year.”
“Thanks. What can I do to help?” Sometimes I wished I was more like Lauren, less known by traits like steady and dependable. But I’d worked hard for my reputation, living up to parental expectations, and mostly I didn’t have time for emotional turmoil. Which was why Ty constituted such a dangerous side road in my neatly mapped life.
“Wipe down the tables. Once we’re done, start setting up the cots for nap time.”
“In the closet, right?”
“Yep. Thanks a lot.”
“Not a problem.”
I got the spray bottle and washcloth, then scrubbed away all signs of lunch. While I was working, Sam ran up to me. “Nadia! You’re my new teacher?”
“Mrs. Trent’s in charge. I’m her helper.”
“Can you help me, too?” Gazing up at me, he looked so much like Ty that I couldn’t stand it. I resisted the impulse to ruffle his hair.
“Sure, if you need something. Do you?”
“Not right now. I was just checking.” Cute overload.
He chattered while I sanitized tables and did a quick head count, not easy with the kids running around. Nineteen. That meant it would be like Tetris, getting all of the cots on the floor without placing them so close that the kids could poke each other, and I also had to leave some kind of path to the door. Crazy as it seemed, as long as there were two of us in here, Mrs. Trent could take five more students. I just didn’t know where the cots would go.
While I prepared, Mrs. Trent said, “Okay, time to clean up.” They put away toys with the usual giggling and pushing, nothing serious. She had the routine down.
“I have to potty,” a little girl said.
“Yep, it’s that time,” I answered with a glance at Mrs. T. “Should I get that started?”
“Please.”
It was a lot easier than in the twos, where there might be diaper changes. In here, the kids went by themselves, but would occasionally come out with pants around their ankles, and I set them to rights then helped them wash their hands at the tiny sink. Getting nineteen pre-K kids to pee and clean up took twenty minutes, minimum.
“All right, everyone, get your nap-time bags from your cubbies and get on your cots. I’ll read one story, then it’s lights out.” Mrs. Trent motioned toward the cupboards.
Nobody complained, though Sam looked worried. Maybe he’s scared of the dark? I felt like telling him that it wouldn’t be pitch-black in here, even with the blinds partly closed. The goal was to relax the kids, not freak them out through sensory deprivation. But he went obediently to his cubby and pulled down a tiny Hulk backpack, then he carried it to a cot near the windows. The kids didn’t seem to have assigned spots, and there was only a little bickering before they got out pint-size pillows and blankets. A few had stuffed animals, and I stifled a smile when Sam dragged out his dog-eared bear. As they got comfortable, Mrs. Trent produced a copy of Crazy Town Upside Down.
She was a fantastic reader, exciting and expressive. I noted some things I’d like to incorporate in my own teaching style. Though I’d be working with older students, some might have a similar mental age. Once she closed the book, I went around doing tuck-ins as she turned on a soothing CD. Next she pulled the blinds three-quarters closed and I hit the lights. The room was pleasantly dim, but I could still see all of the little faces. Some of them closed their eyes right away; others were obviously wrigglers who would be begging to get up in fifteen minutes.