Golden Hour

Chapter 15

Teaching gave me purpose in life, and I did it well. 

Every year my students gave me stellar evaluations, and I prided myself on a high retention rate and attendance quotient. Bearing that in mind, one might imagine my shock as my class size drifted over the next week from a healthy fifteen to a handful of students on Wednesday. 

Today? Two. 

Two whole students. Even though we sat in a medium-sized conference room, they sat on opposite ends with apologetic glances. Sasha greeted Mei, who gave a friendly smile in return.

So much for the group work I'd designed. Discussion wasn't tenable either. Though Sasha was one of the most outspoken students of the class who always raised their hand, Mei preferred to listen and take notes diligently.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't teach under these conditions. 

"Do both of you mind if I open windows?" Sasha asked me. "I know it's cold, but the experts say it might help with the COVID."

Cold? It was six degrees and rainy with it. Honestly, I wasn't sure if opening the windows would even help. Or was I condemning them to get pneumonia simply to avoid COVID?

I cast a wary look at my other student, Mei, and asked her if she agreed. She nodded. But I wasn't sure if she was simply trying to be polite. She put her jacket back on and zipped it.

If it helped them to feel safer...

"Of course," I said. 

After Sasha opened all the windows, they used hand sanitiser. Pretty sure they'd already found some before the pandemic. 

Now one couldn't get any for love or money. If people didn't calm the eff down, the same could soon be said for toilet paper. Jeez! You'd think it was a Norovirus pandemic.

Can we even run this class with two people? Is it fair to the others who will have to pay? Or to these students? Is this even safe?

"Would you give me one second, please?" I asked the two brave students. "I need to take care of something before we begin. It'll only take two minutes."

They nodded. 

Rushing to my superior's office, I knocked on Chris' door. His messy broom closet of an office had piles of ungraded tests, much-loved textbooks, and haphazard binders. 

Our courses required eighty percent attendance rate to pass, so this was unprecedented. At this rate, barely anyone would pass at all.

"Come in." The balding middle-aged coordinator took one look at me and shuffled his papers with a heavy sigh. "You too, huh?"

"Two students, sitting on opposite ends of the room," I replied. "I know we should teach those who show up, but..."

He shook his head. "Cancel it."

"Just for today?"

"For now, yes. Perhaps longer if things don't improve."

That. Right there. 

That hammered home how bad the virus was getting. Other than the one time I'd been sick with Norovirus and the two times I'd suffered with laryngitis so bad I couldn't croak, I'd never canceled classes. This school hadn't canceled any classes in eight whole years.

Changed tutors? Certainly. Cut classes without demand? Absolutely. 

But never outright canceled ongoing sessions.

"Yes, Chris. Thank you." I pursed my lips. "Sorry about this."

"It isn't your fault, Toria." He sighed. "Let's hope this all blows over soon."