Sapphire
Four years later
Twenty-three pairs of eyes remained fixed on my face as the bell rang, and a hush fell over the classroom. I sensed their restlessness in the silence that ensued. Finally, breaking the quiet, I spoke, and the class seemed to collectively inhale in anticipation.
“You may go to lunch.”
“Thank you, Miss Stone!” they chorused cheerfully as they hurriedly vacated their seats.
I began counting to ten. Even before I reached seven, the door was closing behind the last child. Amused by their enthusiasm for life, I turned toward my desk. While I loved my job as a middle-school teacher, there were days when I needed a break, and today was one such day.
A budding headache pulsed behind my eyes.
Swiftly, I packed my belongings and headed for the teacher’s lounge, ensuring I locked the door behind me. Mid-semesters loomed in a few weeks, and I couldn't risk any mischief with tampered tests. Knowing my eleven-year-olds well, I was aware of their sneaky tendencies.
Entering the lounge, I sank into the nearest chair and slipped off my shoes. Releasing the pins that had tightly secured my thick hair in a bun all morning, I let it cascade down my back. The pressure behind my eyes lessened. Leaning back, I closed my eyes.
“Rough morning?”
My eyes opened, and I found Stacey standing over me, holding a cup of coffee. I smiled gratefully and accepted the hot beverage. Cradling it in my palms, I took a sip.
“I’ve had worse, but it could have been better. I just don’t know what’s gotten into them this morning. I had to reprimand them at least five times, and only when I threatened to call their parents did they settle down a bit.”
Stacey waved her hand in front of her face. “I swear, it’s that time of year. I don’t know what it is about March, but it just drives them all so giddy and feral. My crew is the same.”
I laughed. “You sound like you’re talking about a field of wild ponies.”
“It’s the spring thaw that’s doing it. All winter they’ve been frozen, and now that it’s warming up, they’re getting feeling in their little bodies again.”
I pondered Stacey’s theory as I took another sip of coffee.
“You might be onto something there, Stacey.”
“What else could it be?” Dayton, another teacher, glanced at her above my head as he settled on the arm of the chair I occupied. Instinctively, I leaned forward, avoiding his encroachment, while pretending to reach down and massage my feet. Dayton had this irritating habit of invading personal space, a behavior not reserved for me alone. Initially, I took it personally, but I later realized that was just his way with everyone.
“I just hope they settle down soon before I lose it completely,” I said as I stood and stretched. The kinks in my back straightened a bit, and the relief was heavenly.
“Want a back massage? I’m really good,” Stacey offered.
“Thanks, but that would put me to sleep for a week. I need to wake up,” I replied as I slipped my shoes back on and headed to the pantry for a snack. I returned with a bag of chips, positioning myself by the window overlooking the parking lot.
Recollections of my early days at Faelicity Middle School flooded my thoughts. Fresh out of college, landing this job had been the only bright spot in my life at the time. That summer had been the worst, and occasionally, vivid three-dimensional images infiltrated the peace of my mind—memories of a dreadful birthday, standing by the ocean, feeling the wind in my hair as I cast my beautiful pearl necklace into the relentless waves. The glint of the milky beads disappearing from view. He had given me that necklace. I remembered the sublime vastness of the sky and how small, fragile, and broken I felt then.
I forcefully pushed the painful recollection away. I was no longer that girl. She was long gone.
In fact, my twenty-fifth birthday was only a month away. The past four years had been good to me, and I had accomplished quite a lot in that time.
A year after starting the job, I pursued an online course to complete my Masters in education. I glanced at my watch; lunch would end in ten minutes, but I preferred to be there before my class returned. I grabbed a coffee from the machine and returned to the classroom, straightening a couple of desks displaced in their owners’ haste to escape.
Pushing Simon’s desk back in place, I pondered what having a child would be like. The thought, however, was impatiently dismissed. To have a child, there would need to be a partner, and that wasn't in my plans. My heart wouldn't open to that kind of hurt again. Going to the sperm bank felt too clinical, and perhaps, much later in life, I might consider adoption. For now, the subject was closed.
Seated at my desk, I surveyed the room with its aging teaching aids. Faelicity wasn't an elite school, and the lack of funding and resources was apparent. The success of the fundraiser I was working on would be a game-changer, replacing the outdated computers in our classrooms.
Pulling out my notepad, I reflected on the upcoming Faelicity 'Spring Fair,' the result of my initiative. The principal had agreed, and my team had worked diligently to secure support from the business community. The next committee meeting was on Monday, and I hoped we'd report success on all our tasks to date.
The bell signaled the end of lunch. I put away the notepad and stood by the door. As my students entered the room, my heart swelled with affection for each little child.
I prayed our school received the funds we needed.