Ephemeral

Chapter 10

Mrs. Reodique

I watch Jack from the front of the classroom. His head is down, eyes glued to his notebook, but I can tell he’s not paying attention. His pen doesn’t move, and there’s a distant look in his eyes, like he’s somewhere far away.

This is new. Jack used to sit up straight, eager to answer questions, his hand always shooting up before I finished asking. But lately, he’s been quiet. Too quiet. I frown and make a note to keep an eye on him.

The bell rings, and the students file out. Jack lingers behind, moving slower than the others. I glance at his unfinished work and call him over.

“Jack,” I say gently, “is everything alright?”

He nods quickly, almost too quickly. “Yes, Mrs. Reodique. Just tired, I guess.”

I don’t press him. I give him a small nod and let him go. But my mind buzzes with concern. Something doesn’t seem right.

At lunch, I head to the teacher’s lounge. Mrs. Landicho from English and Mr. Noguera from Math are already there, talking in low, worried tones.

“I’m concerned about Jack,” Mrs. Landicho says, taking a sip of her coffee. “He’s not turning in his assignments on time. That’s not like him.”

Mr. Noguera nods. “His grades in Math are slipping too. He’s always been a top student, but now… something’s off.”

I jump in, sharing my observations. “He seems distracted in my class. He used to be so engaged, but now he’s almost invisible.”

We exchange worried glances. This isn’t just a one-time issue. It’s a pattern. Mrs. Landicho sets down her cup and sighs.

“I think we need to call his parents,” she suggests. “They should know what’s going on.”

We all agree. Jack’s parents need to be informed before things get worse.

After lunch, I’m walking through the hallway, heading back to my classroom, when I spot Mr. Perez, Jack’s history teacher, walking toward me. I catch up to him, hoping to get his perspective on Jack.

“Mr. Perez,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual, “have you noticed anything strange about Jack lately?”

Mr. Perez looks at me, puzzled. “Strange? What do you mean?”

I explain, “Several of us, including Mrs. Landicho and Mr. Noguera, have noticed that Jack has been neglecting his other subjects. He’s been very distracted and seems to be focusing only on history.”

Mr. Perez nods slowly. “I’ve seen that too. He’s been very absorbed in history, more than usual. It’s affecting his performance in other classes.”

“I’m worried,” I say. “It’s like he’s lost his balance and is struggling to manage his time effectively.”

Mr. Perez agrees. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Maybe we can work together to address this.”

We part ways, and I make a note to follow up with Jack’s parents and the other teachers. We need to help Jack find a better balance.
 

The next day, I visit the Del Rio home. The house feels heavy with concern, and when I ring the doorbell, it’s immediately answered by Mrs. Del Rio. Her face is a mix of relief and worry, showing just how much this situation has been weighing on her.

“Mrs. Reodique, please come in,” she says, stepping aside to let me enter. The atmosphere inside is quiet but tense, like they’ve been waiting for this conversation, their minds filled with worry over their son.

As we walk into the living room, I see Mr. Del Rio already seated, his brow furrowed in thought. He looks up as we enter, and Mrs. Del Rio introduces me, “This is Mrs. Reodique, Jack’s English teacher.”

I greet him with a nod, and we sit down. Just then, a woman in her late 30s enters the room with a concerned expression. Mrs. Del Rio introduces her, “And this is Mrs. Delgado, Jack’s tutor.”

Mrs. Delgado smiles warmly, though there’s a hint of worry behind it. “Nice to meet you,” she says, extending a hand. I return the gesture, sensing that this is someone who truly cares about Jack’s well-being.

Mrs. Delgado has been tutoring Jack for over a year now. She’s seen him excel in his studies, especially in history, where his curiosity and enthusiasm have always shone through. But lately, she’s noticed a change. Jack has become increasingly fixated on history, diving into it with an intensity that concerns her. His other subjects, once approached with the same zeal, now seem to barely hold his attention. She’s here today because she knows this isn’t just a phase—something deeper is troubling Jack, and it’s affecting his academic balance.

We quickly get to the heart of the matter. Mrs. Del Rio starts, her voice tinged with anxiety, “We’ve noticed Jack’s grades slipping. He’s been so focused on his history work, but it’s affecting everything else.”

I nod, sharing what I’ve observed in class. “Jack’s been neglecting his other academic subjects. He used to be so engaged, but now he’s distant, almost like he’s lost interest in everything but history. It’s clear something’s changed.”

Mrs. Delgado chimes in, her tone thoughtful, “Jack’s been absorbed in his history work, almost to the point of obsession. It’s wonderful that he’s found something he’s passionate about, but it’s impacting his performance overall. His other subjects are suffering, and he’s not the same engaged student he once was.”

As we talk, I notice a shadow move in the hallway. Jack must be upstairs in his room, unaware of our conversation—or perhaps he’s overhearing snippets of it, feeling the weight of our concern. The thought of him listening, struggling with his own thoughts, makes my heart ache.

We all exchange looks, realizing that Jack’s behavior is more than just a phase. It’s something we need to address together. “Maybe we could set up a structured plan,” Mrs. Delgado suggests, her voice carrying a note of determination. “One that divides his time more evenly among his subjects, so he doesn’t fall behind. I can start by adjusting our tutoring sessions to include some of his weaker areas.”

Mr. Del Rio nods, his expression softening as he considers the idea. “We’ll support him at home too. A new routine might help him manage his time better. Perhaps we could set up a schedule that clearly outlines when he should focus on each subject.”

I add, “We could also arrange regular check-ins with all of Jack’s teachers, to monitor his progress across the board. This way, we can catch any issues early and adjust our approach if needed.”

Mrs. Delgado agrees. “I think that would help. We could have a brief meeting every two weeks to discuss how Jack is doing, what’s working, and what needs more attention. And at home, we could set up a dedicated study space for him, free from distractions, where he can focus on his work.”

“We just want what’s best for him,” Mr. Del Rio says, his voice full of concern and resolve. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help him through this.”

As I leave the Del Rio home, I feel a sense of hope. With everyone on the same page and committed to helping Jack, I’m confident we can guide him through this and help him get back on track. I can’t help but think about Jack, alone in his room, perhaps feeling the pressure of all our expectations. But I also know that with the right support, he’ll be able to navigate this difficult time and find his way back to the bright, engaged student he once was.