The Perfect Match | ✔️

The Not-So-Perfect Couch

The next morning, after dropping Jackson off at the airport with a long hug and a chaste kiss to the cheek, Charlotte had to rush to school so she could finish putting in grades. She and Jackson stayed up half the night going through them, but eventually they fell asleep, sprawled about her living room with papers scattered all over the floor and coffee table.

Thankfully, he was already packed, so Charlotte implored his help in getting her things, more like her life, together. As much as he enjoyed watching her rush around the house with her hair still in a scarf and her blouse buttoned incorrectly, he finally caved and organized her papers into her case as she finished getting dressed.

Now, she was finally at the school wrapping up her unfinished task. It only took a few minutes more, so she cursed herself for having fallen asleep last night instead of just completing the grades.

"Hey, Miss Yates," A former student trudged into her room, seemingly under the weight of the Monday Blues. He was a junior whom Charlotte had taught last year and was a good student athlete who excelled at basketball as a point guard and at football as a receiver. They'd grown close because of his struggle in literature. His determination to get better at his weakness had earned her respect and now he claimed that she was "the best teacher in this building." His words.

"Hello Wesley," She offered a bright smile, which he attempted to return. "How are you this morning?"

He sighed before slumping into a desk chair. "I'm so tired, Miss Yates." He admitted. "Spring semester is really beating me up."

"Ah," She nodded, glancing down at her phone after it vibrated. Jackson's plane was finally taking off. "It seems that way for most students who play Spring sports. I support you guys, but you miss so much school at the wrong times."

"But, you actually care!" He threw his head back exasperated. Greetings sounded from a couple of students who ventured into her room as well and took seats before her meticulously organized desk. "You record your lessons and put the worksheets online, but like, other teachers expect you to pull some time out of nowhere to go to an hour long tutorial with them as if we don't have like seven other classes."

Hums of agreement sounded from the two girls who had joined them and Charlotte smothered a chuckle. "Well, I can assure you, they do care, Wesley. Teachers do not get paid much at all, so they wouldn't be here other wise."

"Or maybe their plan A just failed, so they're stuck here,"  At this, Charlotte raised a curious eyebrow. Wesley saw this and rushed to explain himself. "Like, I know you said you've always wanted to be a teacher,"

"Right," Charlotte mused.

"But some of these teachers wanted to be like, politicians, but they had to fall back on being a government teacher. Stuff like that, you know what I mean?"

She nodded, "I know what you mean." Smiling at the sigh of relief he let out, she stood up with a piece of chalk and approached her board so she could write out the date, and an always tentative agenda of the day's classes. There were always some minor changes, but she liked to have it there to keep herself on track and avoid the 'what are we doing today's.

"Do you ladies need help with anything?" Charlotte peeked over at the two track athletes.

One spoke up, "Oh, we were gonna ask you about the uhm preposition worksheet,"

The teacher nodded, then hooked her thumb over to where Wesley sat. "He can help you with that."

"Miss Yates," He wanted to object, but she baited him with adding another half hour to his log for English honor society so he agreed.