getting the same quality education. For instance, your teacher relies solely on the textbook rather than his own skill level. That’s not mastery. That’s borderline memorization.”
Lizzie stared at me in silence, her features impossible to decipher because she didn’t have an eyebrow cocked or a smile on her lips. As if she was watching TV, she just stared. “So…you’re saying I could be a rocket scientist if I wanted to?”
“Absolutely.”
“Me?” She pointed into her chest, her tone incredulous. “Someone who’s barely passing geometry?”
With a firm tone, I answered. “Yes. Lizzie, you can be anything you want to be. Whether that’s a heart surgeon or an Olympic swimmer. The world is full of endless possibilities, and not a single one is out of your reach. However, my advice to you is to do something you innately love, something you genuinely care about, that gets you excited to go to work every day. Don’t do something for the money. Don’t do it for the fame. That’s where people get sidetracked.”
“So, you don’t do it for the money?” She looked around at my home. “You live in a penthouse—money must be part of it.”
I shook my head. “Truly, it’s not. It’s a byproduct of how hard I work. That’s all. People care too much about being rich in money rather than rich in character. Don’t be one of those people.” I turned back to the paper and continued to write down the problems. “So, the question is, what do you want to be, Lizzie?” The math wouldn’t hold her back because she was grasping it nicely with better instruction. And she had other nice qualities, like kindness and intuitiveness. I saw the same intelligence that her mother exhibited, the type of skills I would never have.
She shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”
“Well, you should start thinking now.”
The three of us sat together at the dining table near the window, the same place I used to sit as a kid. It didn’t look quite the same because they’d remodeled the place at some point, so all the furniture and rugs had been changed. But the energy was still the same—still full of infectious happiness.
Dad sat across from me, one arm on the table while the other maneuvered his fork over his plate and picked at the pieces before placing them into his mouth. “How’s it going with Lizzie?”
I was now trying to come over once a week for dinner. It was a few hours of my time, and in the grand scheme of things, not much of a sacrifice. Now that I wasn’t going out with the boys anymore and hitting the clubs and bars, I was free on the weekend nights and not too hungover on Sunday to see my parents. “Good…I think. Emerson said she likes me.”
“That’s great,” my dad said. “I’m not surprised.”
“Well, I called her teacher an asshole the first time we were together, so I kinda fucked up there.” Lizzie thought I was funny, and she seemed to respect me because she listened to me pretty well. I noticed she talked back to her mom a lot, but that seemed to be how most daughters were with their mothers. I remembered the fits Daisy used to throw. “But she listens to me, she’s grasping the lessons, and I feel like we accomplish a lot by the time the session is over.”
My dad continued to eat as he stared at me, interested in everything I had to say.
“She said she prefers me to her own teacher.” I had a feeling I wouldn’t like him because he didn’t show much mentorship toward his students. I was hard on my own students, but I was always there for them outside the classroom, answering their emails late into the night, making videos of problems they didn’t understand and sending it back to them, and spending my office hour in the classroom so they could all benefit. I was a busy man who had a lot of shit to do, but I made a commitment to them and I honored it. “I know he just teaches seventh grade, but instruction at the younger ages is more important than instruction at an older age…if you ask me.”
“Well, you’re also very bright, Derek,” my father said. “Not only do you understand things well, but you understand what people don’t understand—and that’s why you’re such a good teacher.”
I looked down at my food and let his compliment wash over me. “Maybe.”
“Did you talk about her?”