was probably a simple explanation.
Claire wondered how long it was going to take her to figure it out.
ON MONDAY MORNING Claire started her school day by handing out progress reports listing the students’ grades in each subject.
“What are these?” Dylan asked with a sneer. Claire was going to start working on his attitude just as soon as she’d made some headway with Ashley.
“Those are your grades for your first week of school. I’d like you to show them to your parents, have them sign the bottom and then bring them back by Wednesday at the latest.” The grades were, for the most part, dismal in math and English. Primarily because few of the students were doing their homework.
Dylan frowned. Elena Moreno’s mouth was actually hanging open. Only Rudy and Jesse seemed satisfied with what was on the paper. Rudy had all A’s. Jesse had straight C’s, and apparently that was good enough for him. He was an earnest kid who tried hard, but it was especially obvious he had some holes in his education. His records had yet to arrive from his previous school, and Claire had no idea what his background was.
“Are you going to do this every week?” Ashley asked with disbelief.
“Every Monday. This way there will be no nasty surprises at the end of the quarter. Everyone will know their grades, and your parents will be aware of your progress.”
“But making us bring them back signed shows you don’t trust us.”
“You do know that trust is earned, don’t you? I doubt we’ll do the parent signatures all year, but I want to start out that way, until everyone is aware of what to expect.”
“What’re you going to do if we don’t bring them back by Wednesday?” Dylan asked in his most obnoxious tone.
“I’ll phone or e-mail your parents. Now, please get out your math homework.”
Dylan blew out a disgusted breath and made a show of shoving the grade paper into his pocket in a big wad. The other kids tucked their slips away less dramatically, some in notebooks, some in pockets, and started digging for their math books.
“My mom is going to kill me,” Toni murmured to Ashley later, as the class left for morning break.
“Mine won’t,” Ashley responded with a smug lift of her chin. She spoke loudly enough to make certain Claire heard her. Claire smiled, but it was an effort. She didn’t even have the pleasure of knowing that real life would teach Ashley a lesson or two. Ashley’s family probably had enough money to cushion her from reality.
Pity.
Ashley didn’t have to grow up to be a shallow, arrogant person, but there didn’t appear to be much to keep it from happening. And then, as if to solidify Claire’s opinion, she heard Ashley through her open window after school, making fun of Jesse.
“Do you live here or something?” Ashley asked in a snooty voice.
“No. My dad works late.” The poor kid was often sitting on the swings, waiting for his father to come pick him up, when Claire went home, and she left late most nights.
“Well, I hope he works overtime, so he can buy you some decent clothes.”
Claire barely stayed in her seat. But she knew Jesse wouldn’t appreciate his teacher coming to the rescue. He probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing that she’d overheard the conversation, either.
“Hey, at least people like me,” Jesse said.
“That’s what you think,” Ashley retorted smugly. “Come on, Toni. Let’s go.”
Claire drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and after a quick look out the window, forced herself to continue her grading. Jesse was still sitting on a swing, and he seemed to be okay. And Claire was going to see to it that he remained okay, at least while he was at school.
THE FIRST MEETING of the school parent-teacher organization was called to order that evening by Ashley’s mother, who’d once again raided her daughter’s wardrobe. There were at least twenty parents in attendance, in addition to Trini and Bertie. Claire was impressed. The parent-teacher organization of her old school had been comprised of approximately twenty percent of the parents. The Barlow Ridge PTO attendance seemed to be hovering around the one hundred percent mark. Claire was even more impressed with the treasurer’s report. These people were either prolific savers, or they were talented at fund-raising. It turned out to be a combination of the two.
They discussed the year’s fund-raisers—a Christmas craft show, a chili feed and a quilt auction. Claire knew of the quilt auction via Regan, who now owned two heirloom-quality hand-pieced quilts.
Almost twenty minutes were spent debating whether the PTO’s Santa suit would last another season, or if they’d need to buy another before the Christmas pageant. And then they went on to folding chairs. Were there enough? Should the broken ones be fixed or replaced? And when had the piano last been tuned?
The meeting was almost over when Deirdre focused on Bertie and Claire, who were seated at the back of the room. “Have we covered everything?”
“I, um, have a request,” Claire said.
Everyone half turned in their chairs to look at her. Claire decided it was a good thing that she enjoyed public speaking, because all eyes—some of them not that friendly—were on her.
“First of all, I’m enjoying working with your kids. We have some ground to make up because of teacher turnover during the past few years, and I was wondering if the PTO would purchase math manipulatives and four novel sets, one for each quarter.”
Claire could tell by the way expressions shifted and glances were exchanged that she’d accidentally hit on a sore spot. She wondered what it could be. It certainly wasn’t finances, from the sound of the treasurer’s report. She tried again.
“The novels in the storeroom are not only old and not entirely grade appropriate, they’re in really bad shape,” she explained. “I don’t know if they’ll survive another reading. And as far as math manipulatives go, there aren’t any.”
“There’s a reason for that,” one of the parents said. “We’ve bought several programs in the past that other teachers packed up and took with them when they left.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Not at all. And I think our new novel sets and some reference books ended up in Wesley at the elementary school when a teacher transferred there. We also bought a pricey math program that left with another teacher, and she didn’t even stay with our district. She moved out of state.”
Another parent smiled condescendingly at Claire. “How long are you planning on being here?”
“I’m going to graduate school next fall. I made that clear when I interviewed here.” And I was hired because no one else would take the job. Under normal circumstances Claire wouldn’t have held her tongue, but she had enough of a fight on her hands bringing her students under control. She needed parental support, or her battle was going to be twice as hard.
“Couldn’t you borrow what you need from one of the schools in Wesley?”
