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A Work in Progress 3

The rest of the afternoon had a strange ominous feel about it. I had never had a parent come to talk to me the day before their child come into my class. I usually contacted them as soon as I found out about an addition to my roster. Despite all of my assertions that this family was no different then any other I knew that this mother would expect me to act differently around her and her son. Not that I was about to do that.

I was working on preparing for the next days activities when I heard a faint knock on my door. I knew it was Gillian Bren only because I did not hear a child yell my name immediately after the knock. I turned to look at the woman that I was sure would make my teaching more difficult. Mothers like her often wanted teachers to go through ever educational distinction with them so that they could tear down your strategies and make suggestions that they were sure that would be so much better. I had pictured as having big blond hare and every part of her appearance carefully constructed. I was shocked then to see that she was not that way at all.

Gillian Bren had the look of a woman who had been tested. She was not sloppy in any part of her appearance but at the same time she looked like someone who was more concerned with the work to be done then what color her nails were. She was slightly taller then the average woman. Her features were nice but not totally uncommon. Her shinny brown hair was in a simple twist that leads into a ponytail that curled in a beautifully natural way. Her suite was also very nice and even though I knew that it must have cost more then most of my own closet it was not ostentatious.

“Miss Marz? May we have a moment of your time?” she asked in a way that let me know that I was free to say that I was too busy.

“Of course. You must be Mrs. Bren. ” I hoped my tone was one of ease instead of betraying my surprise at the woman that stood before me.

“Yes. My son Alex will be coming to your class.” Just then I saw the small child that stood behind her. He poked his head out from behind his mother just enough so that I could see one half of his face. His dark hair was short and had been parted on one side. He wore a very simple charcoal suit like those that are worn for pictures. He looked like his mother but in his eyes I could see strength not exactly like his mothers. This was not strength that had been born out of pain or grief but was there from birth.

“You must be Alex. I am Miss Marz.” I gave him a soft smile but did not move.

He moved out from behind his mother then so that I could see him straight on. He stood and looked at me like an equal. On the surface he looked much too old for his years. He gave one fast glance to the whole room and then looked back at me. I saw then the boy that wanted to be.

“Would you like to walk with me and I can show you the room?” He gave a fast nod and took a few steps toward me. “Good. Do you like to draw?” I talked only to him now. I showed him where students work went, the reading area, the group area. At last I showed him the place for hands on learning. “Do you like to build things?” At this his face lit up and for the first time I saw the smile that would melt stone. I showed him where the blocks were.

“Alex, Miss Marz and I are going to talk over here ok?” Mrs. Bren got barley a nod from her son before she turned to me. I gestured her to where I usually talked to parents. We walked across the room to where my desk was.

Comments

the Poffster said…
I really like this part. It shows the interest of the character towards the student in which all 1st grade teacher should. Can't wait to read more.
Hey, I feel a little jipped-- I am ready for more now. I am excited to know more.

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