Just Passing

14. Welcome Back!

Screaming children are the soundtrack of my life. As I leave in the morning Spencer wails, "No go Daddy!", which in turn makes Nora cry. Then, as 8:50 approaches, the excited giggles and high pitched exclamations of reunited friends begin to build up outside of the school. As the doors unlock, a cacophonous roar comes ripping down the hallway. Students stream in, a freight train of juvenile anxiety and jitters and joy heading toward lockers and freshly decorated classrooms. Teachers stand in doorways with first-day-of-school smiles plastered onto their still-tanned faces. I have the pleasure of being stationed in the front entryway and holding a clipboard with a master-schedule to help guide any lost souls.

"Mr. Graham, where is room 206?"

"Up the main stairs and to the right." I point.

"Mr. Graham, where is Ms. Cassidy's room?"

"Room 115, just down that way." I gesture.

I'm not alone. Jessica is also there. Plus, there are a cadre of aides helping steer the kindergarteners and their parents down to the correct wing.

A few kids seem upset at having to be back at school, but most are laughing and giddy. In between confirming schedules and reaffirming classroom assignments, I wave and give a few high-fives. But all the while I'm scanning the crowd for Blake.

I have a vague picture of who he was as a third-grader, but he wasn't one of mine. Not someone who would necessarily approach me with a grin and a story about his trip to Florida or anything. So, my eyes wander over the tops of heads, "Josh, no hats in school!" and I'm not even entirely sure what I'm so curious about.

Then I see him. His hair is cut short, but it's one of those haircuts kids get when it's the first time they've let go of having long hair. Almost a bowl cut. Shaggy. His dark bangs stop just above his eyebrows, making a sharp contrast with his fair skin and rosy cheeks. But he holds his head up high and is walking with confidence. His expression is serious, his eyes more tentative, but his Fortnite graphic-tee and board shorts make him blend-in with the rest of the fourth-grade boys. He walks right by me, not needing help. He knows exactly what he's doing.

After a few minutes the rush of students becomes a trickle and then stops. Doors close. Announcements begin. And I make my way into the main office to drop off my clipboard and chat with the secretaries. Then head back to my desk. The school year has officially begun.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Jessica and I sit in our shared space, typing away without much conversation. I'm compiling data from last year's standardized tests, putting together a list of important dates for teachers, and setting up online learning accounts for new students.

At lunch, Steve pops in. His classes are going fine. There are a few clowns that he needs to keep a thumb on and a couple of the girls need to wear more appropriate school-attire. Just the usual Steve-related chit-chat. And then, inevitably, he ponders, "I wonder how Alison is doing."

"Blake," Jessica corrects him, thankfully.

"Oh yeah." He barely pauses. "Anyway, I wonder how her classmates are treating her."

"His classmates," I step in this time. Then I turn to Jessica, "I haven't heard anything, have you?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"I'm just glad I'm not her teacher." Steve says, unnecessarily.

"Mmm-hmm." So, am I.

"This name-change stuff is just so confusing."

I'm out of patience for this crap. "Is it? You made a smooth transition from The Donald to The President. This isn't that much different." I mean it to come out as a joke, but Jessica gives me a look. I don't apologize or backtrack.

Steve doesn't seem to know what to say at first. But it's obvious that the mood has changed. "Well, I'm just glad that it's not something that I will need to deal with everyday. Teaching can be stressful enough."

Sure, Steve. Sure.

Soon after this, he leaves.

"When did you start talking back to Steve?" Jessica asks with a bit of a smirk.

"I guess I have limits. Blake is just a kid, for God's sake."

We leave it there. For now. I have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time I feel compelled to say something. And I begin to imagine what Steve's face would look like if he only knew my truth.