makes my heart clench. My muscles tense as I resist the urge to jump up and make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s not hurt, make sure mommy can wipe away the tears and make him better. I clench my hands into fists as he turns his head to gaze back at me.
“I have to bite my lip hard to stop from saying anything. I want to tell him mommy is right there. I want to tell him mommy will never let him get hurt. I want him to know mommy loves him. I want to get on my knees and cradle him in my arms, kissing the top of his head over and over again until I know he won’t ever grow up.
“He looks up at me and says ‘Mommy, I fell!’ I nod at him, tears in my eyes as he breaks out into a giggle and then a laugh, his high pitched voice ricocheting off the living room walls. He pushes himself back up, his wobbly foot back underneath his body as he hobbles over to me and wraps his arms around my neck. ‘I danced!’ ‘You did, baby. You did dance,’ I whisper in his ear, tears of joy sliding down my cheeks.”
Meredith set the paper down and took off her glasses, setting them on top of the desk. She looked up at Ainsley with no fear and no trepidation. She wanted to continue staring, but realized all too quickly, she needed to run the class.
“Thoughts?” she asked. “It’s okay to be honest. If you say something you didn’t like, make sure to say something you enjoyed.”
She looked around from student to student, hoping one of them would raise their hand. Ainsley looked shocked. Meredith didn’t have to explain it to her, and frankly, she didn’t want to. Her child was absolutely none of Ainsley’s business. Meredith leaned back in her chair, making sure not to cross her arms, and looked at each student in turn.
“Come on, you guys. This is a dialogue, a conversation. Everyone’s participation points are going to suffer if no one speaks.”
One lowly student in the back corner of the room raised his hand, his eyes wide as he stared straight at Meredith. She held back her smile and sat straight up, holding her hand out—palm up—in his direction.
“Go ahead, Alex.”
“Your son had a wobbly leg, was that because he was too young to really be able to walk?”
“No, it wasn’t. Good job picking up on that.”
“Yeah,” Alex continued. “His language didn’t seem young enough for him to just be a toddler. You did a really good job of letting us know his age through his language rather than his actions.”
“Good observation. Anyone else?”
Conversation moved quickly after that. Three more students shared what they had written, and Meredith saw promise in each. For a quick write, she didn’t have high expectations. She checked the clock to make sure time was almost up and then stood from the desk.
“Would you put your name at the top of your papers and hand them in, please? I’d like to read them over before our next class session. Please come to class with a ten minute sprint already written out with another childhood memory. We’ll share them first thing and then do some more writing.”
The shuffling of papers started from the back of the classroom and worked its way forward. Meredith stepped in front of the desks and collected the papers from each student in the front row. She stacked them together and set them on her desk, turning back to the rest of the room.
“Happy early release!”
The students stuffed their backpacks and left the room. Ainsley stayed right where she was. Good, she remembered , Meredith thought. Crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the desk at the front of the room, Meredith debated how to start the conversation. It could either be a conversation, or it could be a dictatorship.
“Why were you late?”
“Got lost.”
“Ainsley, you did not get lost. Why were you late?” Meredith’s stomach plummeted before jumping back up and spinning circles. She was once again alone in a room with Ainsley, and the urge to touch her wasn’t going away.
“I have to bite my lip hard to stop from saying anything. I want to tell him mommy is right there. I want to tell him mommy will never let him get hurt. I want him to know mommy loves him. I want to get on my knees and cradle him in my arms, kissing the top of his head over and over again until I know he won’t ever grow up.
“He looks up at me and says ‘Mommy, I fell!’ I nod at him, tears in my eyes as he breaks out into a giggle and then a laugh, his high pitched voice ricocheting off the living room walls. He pushes himself back up, his wobbly foot back underneath his body as he hobbles over to me and wraps his arms around my neck. ‘I danced!’ ‘You did, baby. You did dance,’ I whisper in his ear, tears of joy sliding down my cheeks.”
Meredith set the paper down and took off her glasses, setting them on top of the desk. She looked up at Ainsley with no fear and no trepidation. She wanted to continue staring, but realized all too quickly, she needed to run the class.
“Thoughts?” she asked. “It’s okay to be honest. If you say something you didn’t like, make sure to say something you enjoyed.”
She looked around from student to student, hoping one of them would raise their hand. Ainsley looked shocked. Meredith didn’t have to explain it to her, and frankly, she didn’t want to. Her child was absolutely none of Ainsley’s business. Meredith leaned back in her chair, making sure not to cross her arms, and looked at each student in turn.
“Come on, you guys. This is a dialogue, a conversation. Everyone’s participation points are going to suffer if no one speaks.”
One lowly student in the back corner of the room raised his hand, his eyes wide as he stared straight at Meredith. She held back her smile and sat straight up, holding her hand out—palm up—in his direction.
“Go ahead, Alex.”
“Your son had a wobbly leg, was that because he was too young to really be able to walk?”
“No, it wasn’t. Good job picking up on that.”
“Yeah,” Alex continued. “His language didn’t seem young enough for him to just be a toddler. You did a really good job of letting us know his age through his language rather than his actions.”
“Good observation. Anyone else?”
Conversation moved quickly after that. Three more students shared what they had written, and Meredith saw promise in each. For a quick write, she didn’t have high expectations. She checked the clock to make sure time was almost up and then stood from the desk.
“Would you put your name at the top of your papers and hand them in, please? I’d like to read them over before our next class session. Please come to class with a ten minute sprint already written out with another childhood memory. We’ll share them first thing and then do some more writing.”
The shuffling of papers started from the back of the classroom and worked its way forward. Meredith stepped in front of the desks and collected the papers from each student in the front row. She stacked them together and set them on her desk, turning back to the rest of the room.
“Happy early release!”
The students stuffed their backpacks and left the room. Ainsley stayed right where she was. Good, she remembered , Meredith thought. Crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the desk at the front of the room, Meredith debated how to start the conversation. It could either be a conversation, or it could be a dictatorship.
“Why were you late?”
“Got lost.”
“Ainsley, you did not get lost. Why were you late?” Meredith’s stomach plummeted before jumping back up and spinning circles. She was once again alone in a room with Ainsley, and the urge to touch her wasn’t going away.
Similar Books
