Picture Perfect

Chapter Four: Elliot

I love Elliot and his commitment to the happiness of kids everywhere. He's such a determined angel.

Love, Cam.

Chapter Four

I argue with a panel of wankers

The following morning, Victoria popped her head around my classroom door. "Ros wants you," she told me.

Ros Keller was our headmistress, and I liked her very much. I was, however, entirely terrified of her, just like everyone else at our school. She was no-nonsense, focused, and unafraid of calling you out if you weren't committing to your role in the school.

"Did she say why?" I asked, looking up from my lesson plan.

Victoria shrugged. "I didn't ask." When I narrowed my eyes at her, she held up her hands in surrender. "If I thought she was pissed, I'd have asked! She seemed fine, just busy."

"Fine," I groaned, standing up. I wasn't hungover; I'd never drink enough to be hungover for working with kids, but I was knackered. Rowan had pulled me to her house after the bar to see the progress, and I'd wound up drinking a few more beers before I'd called a taxi home. I wondered how the heck I'd put away so much alcohol on nights out in my 20s.

The school day would begin soon, and kids would flood the corridors. It was always the most peaceful the school felt, right before they got here. Everything was neat and tidy, but to me it feel eerie. The school should be filled with laughing and footsteps and loud music from the music room.

I knocked on Ros' door and peeked around. "Victoria said you wanted to see me?"

Ros looked over the top of her glasses at me, and waved me in. "Yes, it was just to give you a heads up that a family has contacted me about coming to view the school, to potentially transfer their kid to. She'd be coming into your class."

"Oh," I said, surprised. We didn't get many transfers, especially part way through the school year. "Sure, just let me know when they visit and I'll set some time aside. Do you know anything about the kid?"

"Not a thing, it was just an enquiry," Ros replied, scribbling her signature on something. "The woman mentioned something about co-parenting, so it might be an unusual family situation. But that's about it."

"Got it," I nodded, and then awkwardly hovered, wondering if I should wait to be dismissed.

"You can go, Elliot, you're not twelve," she said shortly, but I saw a hint of a smile on her lips.

I swiftly exited the room just as kids started to rush into the corridors, with Libby, our receptionist, calling after them to slow down. Giggling and pushing each other a bit, a horde of girls ran in the other direction to one of the older infants classes. I smiled fondly after them. Even when breaking the rules, they were damn adorable.

It was a nice easy day; I made most Mondays easy days, to ease the kids into time away from their parents. It was getting easier during the Monday morning separations, because I always set up a fun game to do first thing in the morning. Today we were playing a variation of Simon Says, which I had altered to be 'Pumpkin Says', in honour of my grumpy old cat. The kids adored my cats, so I had photos of them all over the place.

"Pumpkin says... put your hands on your head," I grinned.

It was a fun game that helped them develop their listening and concentration, which led us nicely into phonics, helping them practice their speech and forming of sounds. I liked doing phonics; everyone was coming along nicely in their skills, and enjoying it. That was my favourite thing about teaching kids. They enjoyed learning. I knew that later on, learning would become about tests and qualifications and coursework, and they'd learn to hate it a bit, but for now, learning was just about learning.