Ryland Grace’s Lab Gloves

hallway husband, pt. 2

Middle School bus duty is a lot different than what I am used to. When I worked at the high school, the bus riders were responsible for knowing which bus they were supposed to get on each day and were dismissed 10 minutes early to help prevent traffic. Kindergarten, on the other hand, was a different beast entirely, with the kids having to be walked one by one to their designated guardian’s vehicle. Each teacher had both a printed list and a pdf with each of their kids that stated who they were allowed to be picked up by, their relationship to them, and what kind of vehicle the adult drove. Not only that, but the office had digital copies of every single one of these lists. It was a useful little cheat sheet, to say the least. Middle school… middle school is rough. 

First of all, there are so many children everywhere. It’s like everywhere I look, I’m being swarmed by pubescent little gremlins. On the bright side, the school alternates which teachers have bus duty weekly, so I won't have to do this every single day. Thank God. And technically, my bus duty doesn’t even actually start until next week. But it’s Friday, and I’m new, so admin asked if I would be willing to stay and observe. The theory is that this way, I won’t be tossed totally into the deep end on Monday. Yay!

I’m still struggling to put names to faces, so I don’t know exactly who to approach first. Actually, I don’t even know who is actively on bus duty and who is just passing by while they’re leaving. Great. To their credit, each of my coworkers that I’ve met so far have been extremely nice, so even if I did approach someone who wasn’t on bus duty currently, I’m sure they would just politely direct me to someone who is. But just like any new job, the worst part is getting settled. There’s something deeply embarrassing about the ‘Hello, I’m your new coworker! I’m going to be in your way for the next few days, hope that’s okay!’ phase. 

As I search the crowd to figure out who I should be talking to (or at least where I should be standing), I hear somebody call out, “Kevin! No running!” 

Aha! I recognize that voice! 

I actually find him pretty easily once I know to be looking for him. He’s quite tall, which makes him easy to spot as he towers over the gaggles of children. I find watching him interact with the kids passing by incredibly entertaining as I approach him; he’s passing out fist bumps, telling the kids to have a good weekend and such. It brings a smile to my face.

“Dr. Grace?” 

He turns towards me, and seems surprised when he recognizes me. “Miss Everett! Hello!” He takes off his glasses and hangs them from his face in such a way they’re lopsided across his jaw– um, odd, but okay. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m just… observing.” It takes me a second to find the word I want. Observing seems the best. “My first time doing bus duty is next week,” I offer a small fist pump at the declaration, “but I was asked if I’d mind to stay today and just kind’ve, y’know, watch. Learn a thing or two before being thrown into the deep end.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stick with me,” he grins and begins running me through how it usually works from beginning to end. He explains to me that the 7th and 8th graders are pretty self sufficient, and the 6th graders catch on quickly so after the first couple weeks it's really just chaperoning. He also informs me that before I begin my bus duty, I should either be emailed a copy of which students are bus riders, as well as their correlating bus numbers, or that it will be printed out and left in my mailbox in the main office for pickup. Huzzah for cheat sheets!  Hearing this quells a lot of the anxiety I’ve been feeling leading up to next week, which I appreciate.

Eventually, the discussion becomes more conversational in nature as we continue to monitor the students. Dr. Grace is easy to talk to, and he’s funny, so it helps the time pass by quicker. As the buses continue to fill up and roll out, we cover a couple different topics before ultimately landing on books.

“Oh, now that’s ridiculous!” he exclaims, 

“I know, I know, you’re not the first one to tell me.” 

“I just– I mean,” he chuckles to himself, struggling to find what he’s trying to say, “Wow!”

“What?” I ask, amused at how taken aback he seems. 

“I… I can’t recall ever talking to anybody who was brave enough to admit to not liking The Martian Chronicles. I can’t believe you don’t enjoy Bradbury."

“Oh! Now that is not what I said!” I exclaim, grinning up at him as I defend myself. “I think Ray Bradbury is– is a fantastic writer, I just… I don’t know, I didn’t connect with the material.” He stares at me like he expects more of an explanation, so I continue. “Sci-fi just isn’t my thing.”

He looks as though he’s pondering something, before letting out a sigh. “Sci-fi…isn’t your…‘thing’?”

“Mm-mn.”

“Hm.” He folds his arms, shaking his head slightly. 

I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I respect it! I just–I don’t like it, necessarily, but I definitely respect it.”

He takes a second to scan my face before he speaks up again. “So, then… what is ‘your thing’?”

“Ooh, let me think,” I clasp my hands together excitedly and look up at the clouds as I begin mentally going through all the books I’ve ever read. “I really like the Arthurian legends,”

“Oh, of course you do,” he cuts me off before I can continue.

“Now what on Earth is that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, no, I-I didn’t mean anything by it, I just… Well, I don’t know. It just seems… fitting, somehow.” 

I glare at him playfully while he stumbles through his explanation. “Hmm. Okay, but you’re on thin ice, mister.”

He lifts his hands up in mock-defensiveness. The sound of the last bus rolling away draws my attention to it. My first unofficial bus duty is officially over and nobody is bleeding, missing, or dead! Sounds like a success to me. I look back at Dr. Grace, who is already looking at me, expectantly. What it is that he’s expecting, I’m unsure of. Neither of us speak, but it feels… nice? I end up being the one to break the silence.

“Welp, thanks for the help today.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah of course! You make a good shadow.” He says, endearingly awkward. 

“Um…I gotta head back to my classroom to grab my things, but I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Oh! Actually, I left my helmet on my desk, so I can walk back with you. If that’s okay?” 

I nod.

“Helmet?” I ask as we begin to head back inside together. 

“Yeah, I…I ride a bike to work.” 

“Ah! A cyclist!” 

We continue chit chatting as we journey through the corridors and up the stairs to our respective classrooms. When I finish packing up my stuff, I’m a little surprised to see he’s standing in the doorway of my room waiting for me. 

I’m excited to say I have officially made my first friend at Grover Cleveland Middle School. 

The weekend comes and goes. Once again, it is Monday, and I’m at work. I stop by my classroom to drop off my bags before heading to the teacher’s lounge for coffee. Normally, I like to wake up early enough to give myself time to either make my own coffee or grab some on the way to work. Unfortunately for me, this morning my snooze button got the upperhand. Hot coffee is not my preference–like, at all–but the only thing I prefer even less than hot coffee is no coffee, so I suck it up. It’s colder than I expected in the school’s hallways, especially for August. I’m wearing a t-shirt and a skirt, but a cardigan…a cardigan would’ve been a good idea. I file this information away as I turn the corner.

Dr. Grace is already in the teacher’s lounge and standing at the coffee machine when I enter the room. It smells like printer ink and dust (and of course, freshly brewed coffee). I let out a small yawn, shivering slightly as I approach him. 

“Good morning, Dr. Grace.”

He jumps slightly at the sound of my voice before turning around. He lifts his hand up to press against his chest and chuckles breathlessly. “Oh! Good morning, Miss Everett.”

“Sorry!” I grimace, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh no, not at all!” 

I press my lips together and stare at him until he relents.

“Okay, maybe a little.” He turns back around, returning his attention to the coffee pot. He pulls a paper cup with a cardboard sleeve out of a cupboard and begins to pour. I’m glad he was in here, because I’m not sure how long it would’ve taken me to find those. I notice that once again his glasses are hanging crookedly along the bottom half of his face. I wonder how much time they actually spend where they’re supposed to be. This thought is cut short by him continuing the conversation. “How has your morning been?” 

“Short,” I joke and join him beside the coffee machine. He hands the pot to me wordlessly, with an eyebrow quirked at my comment. I thank him, to which he simply nods in response. “I overslept.”

“Bah, I’m sorry. That’s the worst.”

“Eh. It is what it is.”

We’re quiet for the rest of the time it takes us to finish our coffees. He uses way more cream and sugar than I would’ve expected, but it creates a safe space for me to follow suit. It dawns on me as I’m using the provided creamer that I could bring my own oat milk to keep in the fridge. But then again, how often do I plan on making coffee here? Unsure… well, it’s something to keep in mind, I guess. 

At some point, Dr. Grace has set out a black plastic lid on the counter near my cup for me. It catches me slightly off guard, but brings a smile to my face nonetheless. “Thanks.”

I don’t notice he’s waiting for me to successfully snap the lid onto my coffee cup before leaving. I struggle with it for longer than what I’d like to admit, biting the inside of my cheek slightly as I do so, but he doesn’t say anything. It isn’t until I’m about to leave that it occurs to me he plans to walk back together. I look at him, and we nod simultaneously before leaving the room.

After walking back to our classrooms side by side, we lift up our cups to each other in an unspoken toast before diverging to begin our days. 

It’s been a good week. Exhausting, but good. I’m finally starting to settle into my new routine here, as well as getting to know my kids better. Even so, I’m struggling to connect with the other teachers. 

There’s something oddly performative about being the new employee somewhere. Every interaction feels so… forced. Rehearsed, almost. I keep telling myself I’ll go to the teacher’s lounge during my lunch break, and then everyday my lunch break comes and all I want to do is sit alone in my classroom and recharge. So, here I am. I’m alone in my room, again, watching YouTube videos on my phone (which I have very skillfully propped up against a stack of books on my desk).

I can almost make out the sound of somebody’s footsteps in the hallway, which prompts me to take an earbud out. My eyes follow my ears, looking out into the hall. I discover that I was right when I see Dr. Grace retreating quietly back into his room, Cup Noodles in hand.

Huh. 

I put my earbud back in and bring my attention back to my video. Well, I try to, at least. The thought of Dr. Grace eating lunch alone in his room lingers in the back of my mind. I try to ignore it, but it’s stuck there. I’m not sure what it is that has caused the mental image of Dr. Grace sitting alone at his desk to be trapped in my brain, but every time I think I’ve successfully refocused my attention to the video playing in front of me, my mind wanders again.

I debate with myself on what to do. Honestly, I don’t even fully realize what I’m doing as I begin to head towards the hallway. This is weird! Am I being weird? This is weird. What if this is too much? I just said it myself; eating alone in my classroom gives me the space I desperately need in order to recharge in between my classes. It’s not like it’d be out of the question for Dr. Grace to be doing the same thing. The last thing I would want to do is intrude on his safe space. But, I suppose if he does want to be left alone, he can always just ask me to leave. Although, is that really a position I want to put him in; having to ask me to leave? More so, is that a position I want to put myself in?

I stop before fully crossing the threshold into his room. I take a deep breath and trace the line in the tile where the hallway becomes Dr. Grace’s classroom with my eyes. I knock in spite of myself. The soft sound of my knuckles making contact with the cool metal of the door frame successfully grabs his attention.

He’s leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on a smaller chair–the kind meant for a student. His ankles are crossed, and there’s an open pack of sour skittles beside him on his desk that he’s snacking on. The cover of the book he’s been reading is up against his lap, so I can’t tell what it is.

“Miss Everett!” he exclaims, clearly surprised. I offer a small wave and he swiftly removes his feet from the chair, planting them on the ground. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi,” I look back towards my classroom, taking a second to ponder on whether it’s too late to abort mission. 

It is. 

“I’m sorry to bother you–”

“No! No, not at all. What’s up?”

“Uh, well,” I bring my focus back to him, making eye contact. “Would you mind if I ate lunch with you?”

He blinks at me, and then, “Of course!” I’m slightly startled by the enthusiasm, but appreciate it nonetheless. “I’d be happy to have the company.” 

  He gestures towards the chair he had been using as a foot rest. I make my way over to it, and sit so that my legs are on either side of the back of the chair. I get comfortable and rest my arms by crossing them on the backrest. 

“Have you had a good day?” 

I nod. There’s not much to mention specifically, so I pass the question back to him. “And you?”

“Can’t complain. Uh… How is Grover Cleveland treating you?”

“Good! Really good. I have really good kids.” Good grief, please find another adjective to use besides ‘good’, or he is going to wonder how they allowed you to teach children. “They’re all super attentive and they ask good questions.” Again, with the good. “And, I mean, they really seem to be absorbing the material. I mean, I like to show songs in class, y’know, to help hold their attention? And basically all of them already have the lyrics memorized to the Mesopotamia song. It’s incredible.”

His ears perk up. “Ah! So it’s your fault my students keep singing about ‘Akkadians long ago’ ”. 

“Guilty,” I let out a small laugh and he smiles at me momentarily. Sensing the end of the conversation, he goes back to reading his book. I follow his lead and put an earbud back in, returning my attention to my video. We eat for the rest of the lunch period without talking. Regardless of the quiet, I’m not uncomfortable. Actually, it’s nice. Good, even.

I’m beginning to notice Dr. Grace has a way of making silence easy to sit in.

.

.

.

hallway husband, pt. 1 I sit on top of my desk with my ankles crossed, legs swaying back and forth slightly as I happily admire my work. I was only given the keys to my classroom this past Wednesday, so to be honest, the amount of progress I’ve managed to make in these four short days is something I am actually quite proud of. Now, to be fair, I did get the greenlight from admin to have some friends come in and assist me. I’m very fortunate to have the kind of friends that I do, because if it hadn’t been for all their help, I wouldn’t have made a fraction of the progress I did. It’s because of them that I can’t help but feel so proud of the classroom environment I’ve begun to curate as I look around. Don’t get me wrong– I know things will end up changing as the school year progresses. Posters will lose their stick and begin to fall, the organized chaos of my desk will slowly but surely devolve to be way less organized and way more chaos, and I have definitely been known to adjust the seating arrangements more than once within a six week period. However, I can confidently say that for right now? Right now, I am perfectly happy with where we are starting. 

Fairy lights hang all around the room, accompanied by a few scattered lamps. Together, they work to cast a warm, incandescent glow throughout the space as opposed to the harsh fluorescent attack the overhead lightbulbs have to offer. The students' desks are neatly grouped to make five pods of four desks, with an extra, outlying desk positioned along the side of my own desk, totalling twenty-five desks in all. Colorful flags from each country proudly stretch around the ceiling’s border. A map of the world takes up the better part of one of my walls. It’s accompanied by many smaller posters and infographics that took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to successfully laminate. And of course, my favorite– my hidden snack drawer. 

It’s a necessity, trust.

I do one last scan of the room, mentally checking off goals  I had set for myself before heading out. This is the last time I will be in my room before Monday when classes start, so I want to make sure I have set myself up for success.

My eyes eventually land on a poster that has been stapled into a bulletin board crookedly. “Okay, humbling,” I mutter as I hoist myself off my desk and head towards the lopsided lineup of American presidents. At least it’s an easy fix; I love easy fixes!

I get to school early on the first day of classes. I like having the extra time for prep (and to get coffee). 

The hallways are still mostly quiet when I unlock my classroom and step inside. I set my coffee down on my desk and spend the next few minutes writing some last minute notes on the whiteboard; the date, the bell ringer, classroom rules and expectations. I’m halfway through underlining today’s objective when a soft knock at my door catches my attention. I glance towards the doorway and smile at the man poking his head into my classroom. 

“Mrs. Everett?”

“Miss Everett,” I correct, putting the cap back on my expo marker. I watch as the stranger turns his head to look at the name tag on my door. “And you are…?”

“Dr. Ryland Grace,” he answers, running a hand across the back of his head before fully stepping into the room. “I teach 7th and 8th grade sciences. I’m right across the hall from you.” He gestures vaguely to the doorway, which at this point is now behind him. He reaches his hand out to me and I take it. He shakes my hand as he continues, “I just wanted to, you know, say hi. If you need anything, feel free to ask. And everyone else is pretty nice, too, so….”

“Well, thank you! And it’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Grace.”

He’s tall and polite, and perhaps a little bit awkward. I don’t mind that, though. He’s the first one of my coworkers aside from admin to introduce himself, so I am grateful to have a budding alliance already. After he retreats back to his classroom, I check the time. It’s currently 7:41 a.m., and class doesn’t start until 8 a.m.. I hurriedly finish the last of my whiteboard prep as my students begin to trickle in. The quiet murmur of students’ voices looking for their classes quickly erupts into a chorus of children who have fallen deeply out of the habit of using an “indoor voice” over the summer months. When the clock does hit 8 a.m., I waste no time.

“Good morning, class! Let’s get started, shall we?”

By the end of the day, I’ve been asked about the historical inaccuracies of the movie Titanic, was told that my fairy lights are “giving cottage realness”, and was called ‘mom’ by two separate students. Overall, I’d say it was a raging success! Already, I can tell that I have absolutely lucked out with an amazing group of kids. While I wasn’t concerned about the adjustment from teaching high school to teaching middle (if I can survive the whiplash of teaching kindergarten my first year and then being hired at a high school for the second and third years, I can survive anything this job does to me), I was nervous about teaching a 6th, a 7th, and an 8th grade class. However, intentionally or not, my students have assured me that I am in for an absolute treat regarding the academic school year.

Something far less satisfying, unfortunately, is the way that I have noticed more of my posters are crooked. I push up the pink sleeves of my cardigan as I approach the bulletin board, determined. I begin to readjust the many uneven flyers I’ve messed up, until I am pricked one too many times by the staples that hold them in place. I look all around my desk and scavenge my room for it, but my stapler remover is nowhere to be found. 

‘If you need anything, feel free to ask!”

The sound of Dr. Grace’s voice replays in my head as I continue looking. While it would be convenient to pop over, I don’t want to bother him. Especially not when we haven’t even made it through the first week of classes…

…but then again, he did offer. I swallow my pride and cross the hallway to his classroom. I stand in the doorway, trying to gauge whether or not he’s busy. Before I can decide whether or not I want to engage, he looks over, spotting me. He keeps his head facing me, but looks to the side for a second before looking back again.

“Hello, Miss Everett?” “Hi, Mr. Grace.”

“Did you…um, did you need something?”

“Yes, actually,” I sigh. “Do you have a stapler remover?”

He looks confused. “A what?

“You know, like a,” I pantomime removing a staple as I can’t find the words to describe the action. “A stapler remover?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” “Oh, that’s alright, thank you anyway!” As I’m turning away, I hear him add–

“A staple remover, I do have.”

I turn back around to face him. He’s holding up a stapler–... a staple remover while chuckling to himself. Smartass. The amused grin he’s failing to suppress does make it a lot more endearing, though, I will admit.

“Oh, you know what I meant!” I walk over to his desk and accept the staple remover he oh-so-graciously relents to me. “Thank you, I’ll bring it right back.”