Direktlänk till inlägg 14 maj 2011

two math tests

Av debbyhanxu debbyhanxu - 14 maj 2011 07:37

Believe me, I know. I can’t remember the last time I felt that way.” “Oh, come on, you’re not that old. You’re what—forty, forty-five?” Miles looked horrified again, and Sarah winked. “Just teasing,” she added. Miles wiped his brow in mock relief, surprised to find himself enjoying the conversation. For some reason, it seemed almost as if she were flirting, and he liked that, more than he thought he should. “Thanks—I think.” “No problem,” she answered, trying and failing to hide the smirk on her face. “But now . . .” She paused. “Where were we again?” “You were telling me that I haven’t aged well.” “Before that . . . Oh yeah, we were talking about your schedule and you were telling me how impossible it was going to be to get a routine going.” “I didn’t say impossible. It’s just not going to be easy.” “When are you off in the afternoons?” “Usually on Wednesdays and Fridays.” As Miles tried to work it out, Sarah seemed to come to a decision. “Now, I don’t usually do this, but I’ll make a deal with you,” she said slowly. “If it’s okay with you, of course.” Miles raised his eyebrows. “What kind of deal?” “I’ll work with Jonah after school the other three days a week if you promise to do the same on the two days you’re off.” He couldn’t hide the surprise in his expression. “You’d do that?” “Not for every student, no. But as I said, Jonah’s sweet, and he’s had a rough time the last couple of years. I’d be glad to help.” “Really?” “Don’t look so surprised. Most teachers are pretty dedicated to their work. Besides, I’m usually here until four o’clock anyway, so it won’t be much trouble at all.” When Miles didn’t answer right away, Sarah fell silent. “I’m only going to offer this once, so take it or leave it,” she finally said. Miles looked almost embarrassed. “Thank you,” he said seriously. “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this.” “My pleasure. There’s one thing that I’m going to need, though, so I can do this right. Think of it as my fee.” “What’s that?” “A fan—and make it a good one.” She nodded toward the school. “It’s like an oven in there.” “You got yourself a deal.” • • • Twenty minutes later, after she and Miles had said good-bye, Sarah was back in the classroom. As she was collecting her things, she found herself thinking about Jonah and how best to help him. It was a good thing that she’d made the offer, she told herself. It would keep her more attuned to his abilities in class, and she’d be able to better guide Miles when he was working with his son. True, it was a little extra work, but it was the best thing for Jonah, even if she hadn’t planned on it. And she hadn’t—not until she’d said the words. She was still trying to figure out why she’d done that. Despite herself, she was also thinking about Miles. He wasn’t what she’d expected, that’s for sure. When Brenda had told her that he was a sheriff, she’d immediately pictured a caricature of southern law enforcement: overweight, pants hanging too low, small mirrored sunglasses, a mouth full of chewing tobacco. She’d imagined him swaggering into her classroom, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, and drawling,Now, just what did you want to talk to me about, little lady? But Miles was none of these things. He was attractive, too. Not as Michael had been—dark and glamorous, everything always perfectly in place—but appealing in a natural, more rugged way. His face had a roughness to it, as if he’d spent many hours in the sun as a boy. But contrary to what she’d said, he didn’t look forty, and that had surprised her. It shouldn’t have. After all, Jonah was only seven, and she knew Missy Ryan had died young. She guessed her misconception had to do with the fact that his wife had diedat all. She couldn’t imagine that happening to someone her age. It wasn’t right; it seemed out of sync with the natural order of the world. Sarah was still musing over this as she glanced around the room one last time, making sure she had everything she needed. She removed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, slipped it over her shoulder, put everything else under her other arm, and then turned off the lights on her way out. As she walked to her car, she felt a pang of disappointment when she saw that Miles had already left. Chiding herself for her thoughts, she reminded herself that a widower like Miles would hardly be entertaining similar thoughts about his young son’s schoolteacher. Sarah Andrews had no idea how wrong she was.

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“It wasn’t a problem. My boss was able to work it out.” She nodded, holding his gaze. “Charlie Curtis, right? I’ve met his wife, Brenda. She’s been helping me get the hang of things around here.” “Be careful—she’ll talk your ear off if you give her the chance.” Sarah laughed. “So I’ve realized. But she’s been great, she really has. It’s always a little intimidating when you’re new, but she’s gone out of her way to make me feel as if I belong here.” “She’s a sweet lady.” For a moment, neither of them said anything as they stood close together, and Miles immediately sensed that she wasn’t as comfortable now that the small talk was out of the way. She moved around the desk, looking as if she were ready to get down to business. She began shuffling papers, scanning through the piles, searching for what she needed. Outside, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and began slanting through the windows, zeroing in on them. The temperature instantly seemed to rise, and Miles tugged on his shirt again. Sarah glanced up at him. “I know it’s hot . . . I’ve been meaning to bring a fan in, but I haven’t had the chance to pick one up yet.” “I’ll be fine.” Even as he said it, he could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down his chest and back. “Well, I’ll give you a couple of options. You can pull up a chair and we can talk here and maybe we both pass out, or we can do this outside where it’s a little cooler. There are picnic tables in the shade.” “Would that be okay?” “If you don’t mind.” “No, I don’t mind at all. Besides, Jonah’s out on the playground, and that way I can keep an eye on him.” She nodded. “Good. Just let me make sure I have everything. . . .” A minute later they left the classroom, headed down the hall, and pushed open the door. “So how long have you been in town?” Miles finally asked. “Since June.” “How do you like it?” She looked over at him. “It’s kind of quiet, but it’s nice.” “Where’d you move from?” “Baltimore. I grew up there, but . . .” She paused. “I needed a change.” Miles nodded. “I can understand that. Sometimes I feel like getting away, too.” Her face registered a kind of recognition as soon as he said it, and Miles knew immediately that she’d heard about Missy. She didn’t say anything, however. As they seated themselves at the picnic table, Miles stole a good look at her. Up close, with the sun slanting through the shade trees, her skin looked smooth, almost luminescent. Sarah Andrews, he decided on the spot, never had pimples as a teenager. “So . . . ,” he said, “should I call you Miss Andrews?” “No, Sarah’s fine.” “Okay, Sarah . . .” He stopped, and after a moment Sarah finished for him. “You’re wondering why I needed to talk to you?” “It had crossed my mind.” Sarah glanced toward the folder in front of her, then up again. “Well, let me start by telling you how much I enjoy having Jonah in class. He’s a wonderful boy—he’s always the first to volunteer if I ever need anything, and he’s really good to the other students as well. He’s also polite and extremely well spoken for his age.” Miles looked her over carefully. “Why do I get the impression that you’re leading up to some bad news?” “Am I that obvious?” “Well . . . sort of,” Miles admitted, and Sarah gave a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, but I did want you to know that it’s not all bad. Tell me—has Jonah mentioned anything to you about what’s going on?” “Not until breakfast this morning. When I asked him why you wanted to meet with me, he just said that he’s having trouble with some of the work.” “I see.” She paused for a moment, as if trying to collect her thoughts. “You’re making me a little nervous here,” Miles finally said. “You don’t think there’s a serious problem, do you?” “Well . . .” She hesitated. “I hate to have to tell you this, but I think there is. Jonah isn’t having trouble with some of the work. Jonah’s having trouble withall of the work.” Miles frowned. “All of it?” “Jonah,” she said evenly, “is behind in reading, writing, spelling, and math—just about everything. To be honest, I don’t think he was ready for the second grade.” Miles simply stared at her, not knowing what to say. Sarah went on. “I know this is hard for you to hear. Believe me, I wouldn’t want to hear it, either, if it was my son. That’s why I wanted to make sure before I talked to you about it. Here . . .” Sarah opened the folder and handed Miles a stack of papers. Jonah’s work. Miles glanced through the pages—two math tests without a single correct answer, a couple of pages where the assignment had been to write a paragraph (Jonah had managed a few, illegibly scrawled words), and three short reading tests that Jonah had failed as well. After a long moment, she slid the folder to Miles. “You can keep all that. I’m finished with it.” “I’m not sure I want it,” he said, still in shock. Sarah leaned forward slightly. “Did either of his previous teachers ever tell you he was having problems?” “No, never.”

 

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