used to this ★ lrh

5

But having this girl, a pretty girl in his space every week would be no good.

She was coming today. He didn't know when, though, of course. He thought her email she sent after meeting him was far too wordy for the point she was trying to make. She couldn't provide much information as to what exactly she'd need from him on the days she was here, or when she would come in, and it stressed him out. Essentially, she was still "figuring things out" and since she didn't have a set plan for executing the project she was just going to "take it day by day" and "let him know" when she knew her schedule. And Luke fucking hated day by day. He had everything planned at least a week or two ahead of time. And she was the journalist?

To put it lightly, this girl was messing up his plans no matter how much she insisted she wouldn't bother him.

As if on cue, the girl tentatively peered around the corner of his door to check if he was there, or interrupting something important. Nothing important, only the little alone time I have these days, he thought.

"Hi Luke, or, um, is it Mr. Hemmings? What do you prefer?"

"Luke is fine."

"Well, good afternoon Luke. Where are the kids this time?"

"Music. I'll get them in fifteen minutes or so."

Suddenly she clapped her hands together, startling him enough to look up at her for the first time. "Perfect! Because I actually wanted to talk to you today. If that's okay?"

"I don't know if I'd provide the best perspective on what it's like to be a kid in my classroom, but if that's what you want..."

She almost rolled her eyes at this assumption that first graders alone could give her a good idea about the school's population, its income, and the threat to lose accreditation. "As intelligent as I'm sure your students are, I don't think they can really tell me about the demographic of the school, the funding, all of the things that I need to compare with other schools I'll be visiting."

He watched as the girl opened a sleek, shiny laptop. Plastered on the front were all sorts of stickers: famous quotes from The Office (he made a point not to watch it, yet couldn't escape the constant references to the show from practically every person on the planet), a map of the DC metro, to other images and quotes he didn't understand. He made a note to ask her about them sometime.

To escape his thoughts, Luke started to "grade" the stack of papers his class had worked on this morning. Papers was a bit of stretch, for they were more so pieces of colorful construction paper with pieces of paper glued all over. Today's assignment was to match labels of different types of weather with your own drawing of it. As important as making these connections was in first grade, it was entertaining to look at the attempted drawings of suns and clouds and coloring jobs that were way outside the lines.

"So, uh what do you want me to tell you?" He hated how out of control he felt around her. It wasn't a normal feeling for him to be unable to anticipate what she would say or do next, or what her plans were. He wasn't an open person, and being interviewed by a journalist was never something they teach you when preparing to be an elementary teacher.

"Well first off, I'd like to just get some information about you. Anything you want to tell me I'm fine with. You'll probably be mentioned a lot in the article so I've got to establish some rapport between you and my readers so they feel like they can trust what you say..." She trailed off hesitantly, hoping he'd give her something to work with. If not, it didn't seem like she would ever get much from him when it came time to talk about what actually mattered.

He was used to the pesky questions from his students. Whether it was about his age, his first or middle name, if he was married or dating another teacher at school, when he would cut his hair, if he lived close by, he was asked it regularly. He knew they couldn't help it; they were curious little kids, and every personal fact about the teacher they adored held immense value.