The shadow of the school had only begun its retreat across the parking lot when Mr. Wilson stepped out of his car. Gazing first at the building, he reached back in momentarily and returned with a navy satchel. Moving the shoulder strap over his head, he closed the car door and locked it. He paused for a minute, reviewing a checklist, before beginning a stride towards the place. Mr. Wilson was lanky, but not tall, with matted, unkempt hair that stood in stark contrast to very reasoned movements. Thin rimmed, rectangular spectacles sat atop a thin nose, flashing in the sun at regular intervals as he walked.
Before getting very far, thundering sounds of a powerful engine roared up the street and in to the quaint lot. Tires squealed, causing Mr. Wilson to cover his ears, as the red Corvette careened in to a parking space. Immediately, the balloon-like form of his boss, Principle Aurum, escaped from the tiny car. It always amazed Mr. Wilson a man of such girth could fit in such a car.
“Hey, Mr. Wilson! Nice to see y’ again!” the Principle cried, waving like a child. Even from a distance, he could see the Principle’s tiny eyes squinting in delight on a head that seemed to contour to his body, lacking a clearly defined chin-neck-shoulder border. Mr. Wilson passed a polite wave back to his ecstatic boss before ducking in to the school.
He paced to his classroom purposefully, wanting to prepare himself for the new year’s first day. He unloaded the satchel, arranging papers, files and pencils, making a silent annual covenant that he would keep his desk clean this year, one that lasted two weeks at best before he surrendered to the inevitable entropy. With new pins and pictures, he redecorated his tack board and fixed his calendar to September. He continued preparing dutifully until the children could be seen on the playground and sunlight cut in to squares poured across the desks.
The thin face of his colleague, Mr. Kain, popped in silently at once. “Welcome back, Wilson.”
“Hello, Richard. Long time, no see.”
“How was summer?”
“Not bad. Didn’t take a job. Had too much thinking to do.”
“And you came back?”
“Yeah. I think in the end I really had to. I still feel the need to teach.”
“Its just the fourth grade”
“But if I don’t give these kids some common sense, who will?”
“Still going on about the whole common sense thing, eh? You live in the most Republican county in Wisconsin. Sorry, but we outnumber you.”
“Don’t I know it”
Mr. Kain watched as Mr. Wilson continued about his business, following the working hands with his eyes, feigning a curiosity. The bell rang and the two traded good-byes as Mr. Wilson moved to the board and began scribbling.
Children flew in, rambunctious with the lingering spirits of summer, shouting to each other across the room. Mr. Wilson continued undeterred, finishing items here and embellishing others there. Slowly, the children fell in to quiet, observing their new tutor with intent curiosity. He put down the piece of chalk to collect things he had placed at the front of his desk.
“Good morning, class. My name is Mr. Wilson.”
“Good morning, Mr. Wilson.”
“We’re going to start with an activity that will help me get to know you.” He passed out the survey he had prepared, speaking as he paced between the desks. “And if you have any questions about me, don’t be afraid to ask. I’d like this year to be as enjoyable as possible for all of us.”
One student shot his hand up as soon as he finished speaking. “Question? And what is your name?”
“I’m Billy, but my friends call me Bill.”
“Hmm, may I call you Bill?”
“Umm…my mom told me you were a bad man because you are a dem-oh-crat.”
He paused momentarily, looking past his specs in to the blurry world for an appropriate answer. “Class. Does anyone here know what a democrat is?” The class collectively shrugged and shook their heads side to side. “Then would you like to tell us, Billy? What is a democrat?”
“Well…I-I don’t know, Mr. Wilson” Billy looked at the ground and his face turned red with embarrassment, regretting mentioning the thought.
“Then Billy, how could you think I’m a bad man if you don’t even know me?”
“I-I don’t know, Mr. Wilson.” He couldn’t look the teacher in the eye, fearing an unknown wrath.
“Tell you what: if you think I’m being a bad man, tell me and I’ll give you extra recess time” The boy’s face suddenly perked up, staring with wide-eyed amazement at Mr. Wilson, having never heard of such a wondrous thing.
