On Wednesday afternoon, Mrs. Beouf came to my room.
“Uuuuuuuugh!” she groaned. She sat down in the child sized chair and banged her head on the kidney table where I held centers.
I got up from my teacher desk and walked over to her. “Rough day?”
She laughed a little. It was a tired laugh, but a happy one. “Oh, just getting back into routine.”
“I hear that,” I said noncommittally.
“You think they’re gonna remember the rules from last year but then…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Just smoothed out her hair.
She was talking about grown adults as if they were children. Clearly, my diapered peers were rebelling. Thinking that made me feel better than the possibility that most of them had ended up like that one girl on the bus: Too far gone and loving it.
“That’s a shame,” I said. “But it’s how it goes every year, this time. Right?”
“Right.” My mentor muttered to herself. “Must be some kind of bug going around.”
I arced an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
She was still shaking her head. “Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I’m losing diapers.”
“Come again?”
“Parents all sent in diapers with their kiddos,” she told me. “But I feel like some of the supplies are already starting to run a bit low.”
“New cafeteria food, maybe?” I offered.
“Not that I know of,” Beouf said. “The weirdest part is, I don’t think I’m changing anybody more than usual. It’s like the extra diapers are just…disappearing.” She laughed when she said that. “That’s stupid, I know.”
I gave a half hearted laugh, mostly to be nice. “Not stupid, but I get what you mean. I’m a good two weeks away from being out of crayons; I just know it.” Then I said, “Maybe you’re just frazzled because you’re about to be a Grandma?”
“Maybe,” she replied. “Maybe. I might just be frazzled. My job doesn’t end when I go home…” She sighed and yawned. “How’s this week going for you?”
I gave my own exaggerated groan. Ah yes! Teacher Bitching! The great educational pastime revived!
“I’ve got an I.E.P. meeting tomorrow,” I said. “First of the school year.” I even made a whoop-de-doo circling motion with my finger for ironic emphasis. “One of my new students, no less.”
“This early?” Beouf said. “Why? You’ve had literally no time to collect data.”
“It’s supposedly because the mother wants to make sure that I’m properly briefed on the child’s needs but-”
Beouf interrupted me. “It’s because you’re a Little.”
I sat down next to her. “Yup. Happens every time. They find out their kid’s teacher is a Little, and then they become-” I held up air quotes, “- very concerned about their child’s education.”
“Mmmmhmmm.” Beouf patted me on the back. “And by the time they’re going to Kindergarten, the same parents that were calling for your job are begging you to move up to Kindergarten so they can have another year with you.”
I leaned back in the chair. “Pretty much.”
“Well, it sucks,” she agreed. “But you’re an old pro at this.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am. I was a real mess that first year.”
“Everybody is,” Beouf assured me. “You should’ve seen me.”
“You? As bad as I was?”
Beouf smirked. “Okay, maybe not as bad, but this place is proof that experience is the best teacher.”
“And you’re very experienced,” I said.
She leaned back in mock surprise. “Are you calling me old, sir?”
My grin went full shit-eating. “I don’t know. Am I…Grandma?!”
We both laughed. “I’ll let you get back to planning,” she said. “Practice your parent schpiel for tomorrow.” She got up and started to go back to her room.
“Have a good night Mrs Beouf,” I called out to her.
“You too, Mr. Gibson.”
I needed that. I really did. Sometimes when I’m feeling really down, I still think about this moment and it makes me happy again; if only for a little while.