Externalizing [mxm]

Chapter 1

Marc nodded along and signed at the bottom. No one read those things anyways. "So what happened to Mrs. Lowling?"

"Huh? Oh, the former teacher. There were some health complications that I can't talk about, so they hired me on pretty last minute," Mr. Snowden explained.

"And have you ever taught before?" Marc couldn't help but ask. Half of the students weren't even working.

"I majored in art education and printmaking," Mr. Snowden said. "I did some student teaching beforehand."

Which was maybe just a fancy way of not only showing how young he was, but also the fact he'd avoided the question of having taught before—which meant he hadn't.

"Well this class seems rather...unruly," Mark took another look around.

Mr. Snowden tilted his head off to the side. "Well, I give them assignments, tools to complete it with, and a deadline. However these are young adults, and its up to them to use their time wisely. They decide if they pass or fail this class."

Well that was a rather serious answer that Marc hadn't been expecting—he had been waiting to hear something like 'art is free' or 'they're creatively working in their own way'.

"How is Ariel doing in her class?" Marc questioned.

"She's doing well. She's quiet and keeps to herself, draws or paints a lot of things of her mother." Mr. Snowden gestured towards the piece that Marc was still holding onto. "I think things have maybe been a little tough on her."

Marc found himself tensing up then. "She told you?" She had hardly been talking to anyone about it. Marc had almost been considering some sort of therapy to help her through it—he was in much the same position, if not worse, and wasn't even sure he was handling it well either.

"She did," Mr. Snowden answered carefully. "I think when she does art about her mother, it makes her feel like they're still close."

Marc just stared at him then. So maybe this Mr. Snowden was a little weird, but Marc was pleasantly surprised as well. The school bell rang then, and the classroom broke out into a rush of trying to get out. "I should go meet Ariel out front," Marc finally said, though he wasn't sure he wanted to leave yet. He was curious about how many kids were failing this class.

Mr. Snowden nodded in understanding. "Well, thanks for coming in. If you're worrying about her, I can send you an e-mail every once and a while."

Marc held out his hand for a handshake. Mr. Snowden shook it with a wide smile. "And you can call me Brendan."

***

Marc hated parent-teacher night. Most of the parents that went didn't even really need to go—they showed up to hear the teachers gush about how perfect their child was and how well they were doing. Marc wasn't exactly sure why he went either—at the same time, these were the people that saw his daughter eight hours a day for five days of the week. Maybe they knew something about handling kids that he didn't.

Since she was only in second grade, the parent attendance was actually light. Most of the parents belonged to older students and just took up space in the halls apparently. He had to guide Ariel carefully through it all since she was too young to stay home while he wasn't there with her. The desks for Ariel's class were small and perfect for her as she slid in, and Marc remembered he was expected to sit somehow, someway.

He went for the folded chairs around the parameter of the class and kept close to both Ariel and the door. Marc listened as Ariel's teacher told them the basics of how class was going—though he tuned most of it out, because what could really be important about second grade?