Newbie (22 page)

I sit with Liam on the couch and the usual questions follow. “Where are you from?” “Do you have any siblings?” “What do your parents do?” (Tricky, but okay.) “Where did you go to college?” “How do you like teaching?”

Liam’s mom breaks up the interrogation by offering pie, and the party moves into the kitchen. “We have pecan or pumpkin. Which would you like?”

“Pecan, please.”

“Yes,” Liam’s dad hisses. “See, it’s not a waste to buy a whole pecan pie just for me.”

Liam’s mom smiles, pretending to ignore him. “Ice cream or whipped cream?”

“Ice cream.” I chuckle in my mind at the thought of a couple that owns hotels on every habitable continent arguing over the whether or not the price of a pecan pie is extravagant.

“I knew I liked you,” Liam’s dad adds, placing a fork on the small plate Laura passes me.

“Thanks.” For the pie, and for liking me for something as simple as a pie choice. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have siblings. Noisy. It would have been noisy, but in a very comfortable way. Three conversations are going on at all times. I like being part of this family, at least, for today.

I turn to Liam and ask, “Where are we eating?”

“Dining room table.” I must look surprised, so he adds, “We’re playing games.”

From across the dining room Paul points an accusing finger toward Liam as we enter. “Watch him,” he says with a smile that betrays playfulness. “He cheats.”

“Says the man who slides twenties into his own account whenever he’s the banker,” counters Liam. “At least go big and take the hundreds.”

Liam’s mom steps into the room with two pieces of pie. Apparently one of them is the second helping of pecan she knows her husband will want later, that she set down in front of him. “I think it’s a bad idea to play Monopoly with Sophie here. We don’t want to scare her off.” After settling herself at the table, she turns to me. “They all cheat. You’d think we use real money by the way they make side deals and condemn properties for ‘the public good’,” she says, raising her fingers in air-quotes on the last phrase.

“Then you can be the banker today,” Elise offers, but Paul bumps her shoulder.

I’m pretty sure they’re playing a different Monopoly than the one I know. “Public good?” I ask Liam.

“Oh, there are a few different rules,” Liam whispers conspiratorially in my direction. “The first move is always to file an LLC and create subsidiary companies to shelter your profits. We can pool our assets and create an offshore company, if you’d like. Then we can make money anytime they land on our properties through the exchange rate as well as rents.”

“I know you trust Liam, Sophie. But he knows how we play this game, and he might just be trying to get your assets,” Neil warns.

“Exactly, what are the rules?” I ask Liam.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Paul bolts to his feet and points at Liam. “Not a word. She has to figure them out as we go along, just like I did when joining this family.”

“You’re right, Mom. This might be too much for their relationship to handle.” Elise wags her finger between Liam and I. “I can see where this is going. Liam’s proposing a merger with Sophie before we even start the game.”

Ooh, I like the sound of “proposing” and “merger” with Liam, but I’m sure my context is a bit different.

Neil pipes up. “Oh, it’s just a little game, a child’s game. What harm could we do by playing together for old time’s sake?” He hugs Laura’s shoulder, sliding closer to her.

The way he stresses “child’s game” makes me think he’s had his children in training for the business world for a very long time. The first rule of this game might be to watch Neil closely.

We’re about an hour into the game, and I ‘ve been stuffing half my profits into a separate stack. On my turn, I create a holding company for my green properties and file covenants and restrictions on the adjacent properties to limit their ability to build hotels and “spoil the view” from my properties. “Hmm, that would be your properties, Paul. Houses only.”

“She’s catching on,” Laura says, her eyes twinkling in my direction.

Paul and Neil have a partnership covering the corner with the orange and red properties surrounding Free Parking. Laura owns a small portion of the business as well. Every few minutes, Neil and Laura have been going to the kitchen for a drink of water, another piece of pie, or at each other’s request to “help them with something.” When they return this time, Neil announces that he sold his shares to Laura, and Paul must surrender the dividends to Laura to continue the partnership. Paul’s face drops as he begins counting his money.

“Will you take properties in lieu of cash?” he asks.

“Oh, I’d rather not.” She smiles widely at him. “I think you might be bankrupt, dear. I’ll take the cash, and we can sell your properties at public auction.”

Neil turns toward me and winks. “She’s adorable when she’s ruthless.”

Here I thought Laura was the peacemaker in the group, but really, she is just as savvy as the rest. Note to self—don’t underestimate Mama.

“Since you’re out, Paul, could you check on the boys? It sounds like they’re breaking something else downstairs.”

Soon after Paul’s exit, Elise and I are pushed out of the game too. “Child’s game, huh?” I tease, tossing my properties into the center of the board. Oh, and Free Parking isn’t free. There’s no direct owner of the corner, but if you land on the spot, you get to pay a luxury tax (It’s a luxury because parking is premium on the game board’s real estate.) to whoever rolls the highest number on a die. Neil rolls a six, so I have to pay him six times the highest rental property he owns, including a hefty tourism tax. Yup, I’m out.

“Game night is usually a little intense. I should have warned you. It isn’t enough to have a strategy to win—we all also play with a strategy to destroy the competition. Parcheesi, Risk, Chinese checkers—it doesn’t matter what we play, the outcome is about the same,” Liam says with a smile. He’s enjoying this. How cute is he when he’s all impassioned by venture capitalism?

Liam seems to be holding his own until Neil and Laura “need another drink of water”. When they return, they announce they have merged their remaining assets and then stage a hostile takeover of Liam’s holdings.

“Brilliant,” Liam sighs. His eyes shine with surprise, followed quickly with respect. I wonder what made him leave business and some to a school. Is it just a holiday from his real work, or is he making a change that will be permanent in his life?

Game over.

November 24, 2007

Newbie Blog:

5-Day Weekend

I’ve been wondering this week how are holidays are decided. Not just regular holidays, but the federal ones, when banks and schools close. Anyway I think we could use more of them.

Something I learned this week:

• White school glue is non-toxic. Though I didn’t learn why anyone would want to smear it on her palms, then lick it off.

B
eth and I are in my empty classroom for planning today, but it doesn’t feel empty with the artwork students have made hanging overhead. It’s quiet of sounds, but loud with reminders of recent lessons hanging on the walls. Beth settles into a small chair at my reading table with a snack bag of cheese crackers while I continue my memory lane side trip.

“You know, you train to be a teacher for four years in college, having field experiences and even complete a stint in student teaching, but you still don’t know exactly what it’s really like to be a teacher, until you are here doing it, full time. Do you? I mean, no one told me that a booger-loaded six-year-old was going to blow all over my new cashmere jacket. Or that students would give each other haircuts when I turned my back to get more crayons. Or half your class gets hauled into the office for starting World War III using carrot missiles drenched in ranch dressing. Or if you’re only sick one weekend each month, you feel lucky. Or that the little boys would be so confused about using the urinals at the beginning of the year, that they pull their pants down instead of opening their zippers. Of course, all the children walking past as the door opens get mooned.”

I notice that Beth has stopped cutting. Her expression is blank, but it looks like she’s trying not to look appalled. “What is happening in your classroom?”

I’m stunned. I thought my class was normal. “I…I…I…” I can’t explain my declaration. I thought it would be a shared experience.

Beth’s face cracks into a smile, and she begins laughing. “Got you.”

“Oh, that was mean.” I smile, then ask sheepishly, “So my class is normal?”

“Yup, as normal as a mob of six-year-olds gets.”

After planning on Thursday, I walk to Snow Hall to visit Ruby. “It was such a surprise to have you come to my birthday party. I wondered if you would like to visit me, during class, next week. I know the students want to see you again.”

“Yes, I’d like it very much,” she answers, the rims of her eyes moist.

“You could just watch or the students could read to you, whatever you’d like.”

“I’ll have Paul set it up for me. Maybe I could come once or twice a week?” We arrange for her to come for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays during reading time.

December 1, 2007

Newbie Blog:

Safety Scissors

Something I have learned this week:

1.
Safety scissors probably won’t cut fingers, but they will cut hair, in big chunks, rather quickly.

2.
The moms cry about it more than the little girls do. The little girls think they’re pretty.

M
r. Chavez is sitting at my small table when I enter Tuesday morning and hang up my coat. “I received a phone call late last night that one of our school families has had a tragedy.” The expression on his face makes me wary. He points to a chair, and I sit down. “When I came to work this morning, I learned you have one of the children in your class.”

My eyes glance at the desks and my mind visualizes each of my students. He continues. “Jade’s mother OD’d last night and was taken to the hospital. They couldn’t save her.”

My hand flies to the base of my neck. I feel my eyes open wide and my lips part with a little gasp. “What about Jade and her sister? Were they there when it happened?” My pulse is hammering in my chest. Please don’t let the girls have seen their mother die. “How are they? Where are they?”

“The police took them to Family Services. They’re going to live with their grandparents out of state. I don’t know anything else.”

“Will we get to say goodbye?”

“They won’t be coming back.”

“May we send some notes to her?”

“I think I can arrange for them to be sent on to their new home. Please just tell your class that Jade has moved. Many families in our boundaries probably saw the ambulance and the police and know what happened. We are going to let the children’s parents give any specifics they want their children to have. Since there’s a police investigation, please don’t pass on any information or rumors.”

Jade’s face, hidden in her hoodie, dominates my thoughts. It’s hard to lose a parent, and so much harder when you’re only six. I’m staring at her empty desk when Mr. Chavez’s voice pulls my attention. “The school crisis team is available for any students, parents, or employees who need to talk.”