You Complete Us

There Was A Boy...

October 18, 2017, 10:00AM

"Maine! Tulong, please! Nag-aaway ulit si Armand and Thirdy!"

Maine Mendoza, or Meng to her colleagues, looked up from the children's workbooks she was gathering, put them away and went to Joan, her co-teacher. It was breaktime for the kids at the moment. All of them were outside and she was about to finish cleaning things up in time for the next session before the children leave for the day.

She hurried outside, just in time to see Armand push Thirdy and the latter angrily swiping at his cheeks and walk away from Armand. She saw him look up and see her but he glared and stomped past her to return inside. Maine gestured for Joan to deal with Armand while she followed Thirdy inside the classroom.

Thirdy, or Richard Faulkerson III, was already seated in the chair in front of the teacher's desk. His head was down and sadness and frustration was evident in the slump of his shoulders. Maine sighed.

This was the second time that the boys fought. They were both under Maine's class for under-sevens. Thirdy was a new student in their prep school while Armand Hernandez has been a student of St. Ignatius Preparatory Academy for 2 years now. The two boys got along well enough but a week after the first day of classes, they began to get antagonistic, Armand more so than Thirdy. Until last week, when they both shouted at each other, also during breaktime, disrupting the other students. And now, this. And as per school policy, the second time the same students fight, they must now notify the parents.

Maine crouched in front of Thirdy, willing him to look at her. She had an inexplicable soft spot for this boy, who generally had a sweet disposition. His overall adorable-ness also contributed - his fair skin emanating a healthy glow, his straight nose and his eyes sparkling with joy. During the four months that he attended the school, she noticed that only a nanny was his company and fetched only by a driver - she saw no parents yet, though school records show that there was only the father. But he was sweet to his teachers and classmates with a fairly even temperament, which is why she knew that fighting with another was uncharacteristic of him.

"Teacher Maine, does this mean you have to tell my Dad?" came the boy's small voice, still looking down at his shoes and interrupting Maine's thoughts.

Maine sighed again. "Yes, Thirdy. I'm sorry but you know fighting is bad. Though you did not fight back, this is also not the first time."

She paused, waiting expectantly for Thirdy to share what the fight was about. But after a moment, he remained quiet. Which was the same thing he did the first time. "Are you still not going to tell me, Thirdy? But you know you have to tell your father."

Maine saw him nod and finally, look up at her, his light brown eyes framed by thick, black lashes shining with unshed tears. "Is it alright, Teacher, if I tell my Dad first? Before I tell you?"

"Alright, Thirdy," Maine agreed, noticing that this would be more comfortable with the child. He would not have said that if that was not how he felt. She put her hand on his shoulder, keeping his eyes on her. "We'll ask him to fetch you later, okay? And we'll all talk before you leave."

The child nodded, his hands folded on his lap. "Teacher Maine?"

"Yes, Thirdy?"

"I'm afraid," he admitted in a small voice, bowing his head again.

Maine's heart went out to the boy, torn between wanting to hug him but knowing she cannot act in a way that would be misconstrued as favoritism. So she settled for running her hand on his jet-black hair, making him look at her again. "Are you afraid your father will get mad?"

Thirdy shook his head. "No, po. I'm afraid I'll disappoint him. And that he'll be sad because of me."

"As long as you explain, he'll understand, Thirdy. Maybe he will be disappointed, but I'm sure it will pass, especially if you will not do it again." Maine became aware of the time and stood up. "I have to call your dad now, Thirdy. Return to your seat na ha? Breaktime is ending in 15 minutes."