Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers #2) - M.L. Nystrom Page 0,35
made a muffled noise against his chest. She was probably down for the night. Owen contemplated waking her up to get her to the guest room upstairs, but when he tried to move her, she gripped his hip and wouldn’t budge. He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. Just a few minutes, then he’d try again.
Chapter Twelve
The dismissal bell rang out, and the bodies moved in one massive unit, unfolding from the small desks, jamming books into backpacks, and scrambling for the classroom door. I called out assignments as they left.
“Homework is on page twenty-three. Test next Thursday. Everything is posted on the class calendar page. Tag me there if you have a question over the weekend, and I’ll do my best to get you answers as quickly as possible.”
I wasn’t sure how many kids actually listened to me, but I’d started the class off with the same information. Hopefully those teenage minds remembered one of the two reminders. The school year started two weeks ago, the first one for teachers in preparation, and the second for students. I had six classes this year, including one for calculus. I hadn’t planned on teaching the higher math course, but the normal calculus teacher took a tumble off his roof and spent his first week of planning in the hospital in traction for a shattered pelvis and broken back. Finding long-term subs turned out to be just as hard as finding higher math teachers, and our esteemed principal decided to split up the advanced classes between the remaining instructors.
I also moved up as head coach of the mathletes team. This didn’t bother me, however it did add even more to my work day and work schedule. The last few years, I’d been the head of the math department, mainly because no one else wanted it. Ever since I accepted that responsibility, more and more duties were piled on my back. Homecoming advisor? Ask Ms. Miser. School club sponsor? Ask Ms. Miser. Need an academic liaison? Don’t ask. Tell Ms. Miser. It seemed like the answer to any problem dealing with numbers or student activities was oh, Melanie Miser can do it. She’s single and doesn’t really have a life.
Gah! I needed to get my shit together about next semester. The January due date meant I would need a long-term sub for the second half of the school year. Fuck, I hoped I could find one! I might decide to take the entire semester off, which would drastically impact everything I did at the school. Was there anyone who could take my place? Probably not. Teacher burnout was a real thing and made a lot of people in my profession leave after a few years. Most of the veteran teachers in my department had settled into a comfortable zone and were coasting into retirement. They wanted no more work than what was necessary for their classes, and even then, only the minimum. My days during the school year extended far beyond hours in the classroom, simply because work had to be done, and as the top dog, I had to do it. At last the weekend had arrived.
Labor Day weekend, that was. Historically, it was supposed to be a remembrance of the labor movement. It was about the dedication, economic contributions, and achievements of American workers. For some, it was a three-day weekend of sales, cookouts, and firing off any leftover Fourth of July fireworks. For teachers, it was one last summer hurrah before the super tight school calendar gets started. Meetings, classes, planning sessions, after school study groups, football games, club activities, homecoming parade, senior recognitions… the list was endless. The next real break won’t be until the end of November, and afterward, the big end of the semester exam push starts. Fuck, I’m tired just thinking of it.
I’m also tired just thinking of what I have to face this weekend.
Bevvie popped her head into my class. “I see you’re still standing. New class gonna work out okay?”
I sighed and opened the bottom drawer to my desk. “Like I have a choice in the matter. I swear the troll is out to get me.”
“Troll?”
“My new nickname for Principal Bradshaw.”
“I thought that’s what you called my ex-husband?”
“He’s a troll too. Anyway, Bradshaw asked if I could add the debate team onto my club sponsorships. The debate team? Really? I’m a math teacher, for fuck’s sake. What the hell do I know about debate?”