Guilt by association

Chapter 1: Rainy Day Rescue

Shit! I'm late!

I hurriedly shoved my papers off of the counter and into my bag, trying not to spill my coffee as I hopped off of the tall chair.

The very class I had just been making lesson plans for started in ten minutes, and it would take me fifteen to get there, on a good day. Even though the school was only one stop over from the metro station across the street from the cafe, Washington D.C. trains were almost always delayed.

Any other day, I would have made a run for it, since it was only about a mile away. But being chronically late meant I had also rushed to get out the door at the beginning of the day on my way to get caffeine into my system as soon as possible, in order to finish lesson planning for my class that morning. And in my haste to leave the apartment, I had forsaken my umbrella, despite having read the weather report the night before.

And so, I opted to take the metro, which is how I stepped into the school building only a little bit damp from racing from metro stop to awning. But unfortunately, this also meant that I was nearly ten minutes late.

As I entered the classroom, the kids didn't take much notice—they were already engrossed in their daily "creative activity." At the beginning of the day, the students settled into the classroom by being creative for fifteen minutes, whether it was making a drawing, writing a short story, or creating a lego sculpture.

My supervisor, however, gave me a chiding look, one that I was all too familiar with. I held back a sigh, knowing that it would only result in prolonging his lecture to me at the end of the day.

When I had chosen to focus on education during my Master's program in childhood development, I hadn't been expecting to spend so much time in a kindergarten classroom. After finishing college, I had been elated for the opportunity to delve deeper into fieldwork. I had always felt at home in lab settings, and my love of neuropsychology and education had brought me to this program.

So when my advisor had urged me to apply for a job at an elementary school to complement my studies, I thought it would be to run contact with the guidance counselor and conduct formal studies with some of the kids. What I didn't realize was that I would end up taking the position of a glorified teacher's assistant.

That's not to say that I didn't enjoy it. And despite my previous reservations, I had to agree with my supervisor that this was the most direct and controlled way to interact with the kids and collect data. Not only that, I loved these kids. I had gotten to know every single one of them and their parents in the last couple of months.

Despite my less than graceful start to the day, the school day passed by quickly, and before I knew it, it was 2:45 p.m., and the kids lined up by the door to be led to either the school bus or the carpool by one of the other teachers.

As soon as the kids left, my supervisor turned to me with that same look from this morning.

"I'm sorry I was late, Brad, it's just that—" I started to apologize.

"This is almost starting to become a pattern," he said. "These kids are in a crucial stage of development where they are grappling with initiative versus guilt, and if you are continuously showing irresponsible behavior—you of all people should know the impact it might have on these kids."

"Of course I understand," I said, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

"And this isn't just a behavioral study," he continued. "We are providing real education to real kids. I know you don't have a lot of experience, but considering your background, I thought you could handle this."

I hated when Brad got like this. He wasn't usually this condescending and patronizing. He was extremely knowledgeable and good with kids. But I could tell that he had grown up getting exactly what he wanted, probably an only child with rich but distant parents, because it showed whenever he got pissed off. Nevertheless, he was my supervisor and one of the best in the field.