"Josh, may I see you for a minute?" Ms. Parsons caught him just as he was going through the door. He stopped and moved back toward her desk. Some girl was talking with her so he waited.
"That’s fine, Cindy. We’ll talk about it tomorrow." The girl moved away and out the door. Josh stood waiting.
"Josh. Come and sit for a minute. Do you have a class? I’ll give you a pass. Just for a minute. I wanted to tell you something, to share some of my thoughts with you." She had closed her rank book and spread her hands on the desk.
Josh slid into the front desk and looked at her. Parsons started to speak and then stood up and came around her desk. She leaned back against the cluttered surface but wasn’t comfortable. She finally settled into the desk next to Josh.
"Josh. I want to let you know how pleased I am that you’re in my class. That things have worked out so well between us." This was going to be one of those talks. Josh knew what was coming. Ever since his English teacher had become friends with his mother, she thought it gave her some kind of parenting role. So instead of having no effective parenting he suddenly had a slew of mothers. A tag team fighting hard to save him. And the funny thing was, he liked it.
"I’m where I want to be. Working on my writing with you. You know I like to write. And your assignments are easy. Like tonight. Write about something important to me. With lots of details. Easy stuff." She also liked what he wrote. Said good things about it. Had him share it with the class. He guessed that was her style. Lots of positive feedback. But with him it had worked. Gave him confidence. A lot like a mother. Absolute acceptance and absolute praise. It inspired him. Made him want to work harder. He wished some of his other teachers would show some confidence in him. It would. . . .
"Josh? Did you hear what I said?"
"Huh?" Parsons was looking at him strangely, as if he’d been daydreaming. "I was off on a tangent. Thinking too much again. What’d you say?"
"I was wondering what your plans were for next year. What you want to do after you graduate. I don’t want to place too heavy a load on your shoulders, but you will graduate in a few months." Boy, she sure was in her mothering mode today. Raise the shields.
"Yeah, I know. Graduation and then the real world. I was talking with Gus about that just the other day. He’s gonna sell me the gas station. I’m all set." That should stop her. A plan. She liked plans.
"Well, that’s very nice, Josh. That would be quite an accomplishment. I would have a lot of confidence bringing my car to you." She sounded sincere, but there was something in her tone that made Josh wary.
"But? You’ve got that tone again, Ms. Parsons. You got something else on your mind." And she was going to trap him. He had a bad feeling, probably what an animal feels just before the mat of grass covering the pit gives way.
"Well. I was wondering. I was thinking. You’re not at the vocational school are you? No class over there that I don’t know about?" So that was it. Training. He supposed all teachers were big on school. After all, that’s what put food on their tables.
"No. No, I figured I could learn as much working with Gus at the garage. He’s real good with telling me how to do stuff. I bet I’ve learned more there than that whole class of kids over at the voc school. The SST, that’s all just pretend stuff. We do real stuff over at the garage." She wasn’t going to let him off that easy, he could tell.
"Well, yes. All they do is pretend stuff. And all we do here is write pretend stories and read make believe. And I suppose the math teachers are only making up their math problems." She waited.
"But there’s more to it than that." Josh tried to sound as if he understood.
"More to it, I think so. Sure, we work in made up stuff over here. But it’s all designed to lead you into the real world, help you get ready for what’s coming. Even those poems I dig out of old books are supposed to give you some preparation."
"Oh, they do. They do. That’s one thing you’ve done for me real well, Ms. P. I’ve learned to relate Robert Frost to almost everything. ‘Come with rain, O loud Southwester. . . .’ That’s a good poem about spring coming in. I. . . ." He wasn’t getting it. And she wasn’t going to be put off by his ranting.
"You’re right, Josh. You have found a lot in poetry and some of the other work we’ve been doing. That’s not what I’m worried about. I was just thinking that you might like some schooling in auto mechanics. I think Stratham Tech has a good program. Have you thought about that? I’ll bet the guidance department has some information that would give you some ideas." This wasn’t a simple question, he could tell. In fact, there might only be one right answer. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ might be the only answer.
"Well, you know, Ms. P. That’s a mighty fine school, but see, it’s not for me. Oh, wait a minute. It’s not that they might not have a lot of good information for me, but I’m a more hands on kind of guy. And all the kids there will be from these hotshot voc schools and I’ll be outta place. No. No, I think I’m all set. Gus said all I had to do was get my grades up a bit and then I’m golden. So it’s not a big deal." Josh had tried to be convincing. Would she buy it?
"So you’d be a bit intimidated by these other kids, kids you’ve been in school with but who have already had a lot of the training you need? Is that the thing?" Whoa. She was going too fast here. Was that what he’d said? Maybe it was. But having her state it so clearly made him uncomfortable.
"Hey. Nobody intimidates me. Nobody puts me off. I am sure of myself, and I am all set. You don’t need to worry about me." A little bravado might work.
"Oh."
"So if you can just write me a pass to science class then I’m all set. I don’t know if we can swing free tune-ups for you at the station but I’ll do the best I can for you. You can count on it." This wasn’t working. She wasn’t buying the tough guy approach. Why was she always right? How did she understand him better than he did himself?
"You know, Josh, when we first met, all those months ago, there was still some bitterness in me, a lot of bitterness that clouded not only my memories of your father but my whole approach to teaching. Oh, yes. That wound was deep and then you came along. At first I thought that you would only open the wound and make it worse. But there was some detective in you that I hadn’t counted on and you found the truth. Not only did you restore the good memories of your father but you brought your mother out of her misery and made me her friend. That’s a lot."
"It was nothing. I just did it ‘cause my father wanted, I mean, I needed to find out who my father really was. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that it helped you and Mom become friends and all, but it was just for him that I did all of that. It’s no big deal." He rocked back and forth, anxious to escape this burst of gratitude.
"Well, it is a big deal to me. Here’s a pass. You can go. But I just wanted you to know how much you’ve done for me. I wish there were some way I could repay you." She held out the yellow pass.
"Yeah, well, thanks, Ms. P. If I need something. . . . When I need something, I’ll come to you. Thanks again." Finally, Josh was out the door. He was pleased, he guessed, with all this attention. All these people suddenly wondering what he was going to do with his life. It felt good. But it also felt like some great sticky cotton candy cloud wrapping around him. There had to be more room.
