May Flash #1 - "Tum"

Ngatea

What can I say about Shane? You know how it goes; some new teachers are nervous and some are over-confident. Shane belongs firmly in the second camp.

“This is a special school,” I told him during orientation. (One of my responsibilities is to take the newbies under my wing.) “With the emphasis on ‘special’. Don’t forget that.”

“I know what special means.” Shane waved his hands at me. Dismissive.

After one week of lessons, which is often when I find teachers can either come to me in a panic or just quit when they realize just how much special the school is, Shane’s attitude was unchanged. Still unfazed, still wet behind the ears but without knowing it.

I was happy to wait. I could have let him find out about the school gently, I could have eased him in.

But then he had to go and embarrass me in front of the principal.

“Danny’s keeping me right,” he said to Mrs Taylor when she asked, and then he followed up with, “Bit of a worrier though.” He grinned at her, shrugged. “They’re just big kids, really. I can handle it.” He looked at me as if I was the new teacher on probation. “You’re right, Danny, they are special. But instead of worrying about it, I reckon we can see this as a chance to make a real difference.”

I was left fuming, but I didn’t show it. The only reason Shane can play it so cool is because they started him off easy, with the senior class. Those students are a piece of cake in comparison.

Over the weekend, I made a song and dance of having “thought about what Shane said.” I told him he was right, and that he deserved a chance to make “an even bigger difference”.

He looked at my quizzically.

“In the nursery, Janet needs an assistant for Monday. Just one day, her usual one’s off for some reason. So, I’ll sub for your senior class, and you help Janet out.” I told him.

For the first time since I’d met him, Shane looked uncertain. “I don’t know the curriculum,” he said. “I’ll need more time to prep.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry about curriculum. Janet’s a pro, just follow her lead, you can’t go far wrong. I shrugged. “They’re just ‘big kids’ after all.”

He still looked unsure, so I told him, “Do this for Janet, I reckon you’ll be done with orientation.” I rub my hands together. I’ll tell Mrs Taylor not to worry about probation, you’ll be on the permanent staff.”

His eyes widened. Yeah, he couldn’t resist that.

“Sure,” he said, nodding. He raised his hand, looking for a fist bump, and I was happy to oblige.

And so today, I take care of Shane’s senior class. It’s pretty easy, three men and three women all turned out in their school uniform, and I’ll give Shane some credit; his lesson plan was well organized, and the “kids” had plenty to do. I set them up with a drawing activity and wondered how Shane was getting on with Janet.

At first, I enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing he would find it difficult. To go from the relative serenity of the senior class, which is basically Primary 1, to the nursery class which is managing adult-sized babies who can barely form coherent words, never mind control their bowels and bladders.

It’s a messy class. It’s a loud class. There’s no lesson plan, it’s crowd control. I’d like to see Shane “make a real difference” there.

I smiled to myself. He’ll hate it.

But at the same time, he’s still under my orientation supervision. Taylor doesn’t like it when a newbie quits, it’s hard enough for the school to attract good teacher as it is. So, at lunchtime, with the senior class safely shepherded to the [cafeteria], I pay a visit to the nursery.

Janet meets me at the door. “Hello, Danny! I’m lucky to have so many visitors today!”

I smile and nod, looking past her. “How’s Shane getting on? He was a bit nervous, but I really wanted him to get a feel for your class.”

Janet beams. “Shane’s doing wonderfully! Come in and see, I’m happy to give him a gold star.” She looks down at my feet, and I wonder if she’s going to ask me to take off my shoes. She’s a real stickler about cleanliness, which is pretty ironic, given how messy her students are most of the time.

Instead, she takes me by the hand, and I try not to feel like I’m one of her students, as she leads me over to a pair of students playing with large, foam blocks.

I see the back of a man wearing a blue onesie, on his hands and knees, looking like an over-sized toddler playing on the ground. And I see the front of a woman who is naked except for a puffy nappy. It’s not shocking for me to see a student like that, and I don’t blame Janet for not bothering with school uniform. I mean, her students are mental babies, after all.

“Yes,” says Janet, “Shane’s fitting in very well.” She nods. “Like a duck to water, really.”

And I’m ready to ask her where Shane is, scanning the rest of the classroom, and then I don’t have to ask.

The man in the blue onesie turns his head.

My mouth goes dry.

The man looks at me. He smiles, sits on his rear and raises his arms as if he’s asking for a hug. He tries to say my name. “Dah-dahhh-ee!” He finishes with a squeal, waves his hands.

“Such a happy boy,” says Janet warmly.

I stare at Shane, and then I stare at Janet. “What did you…why…”

“He was a little grumpy when he first arrived,” says Janet, crouching beside Shane. She strokes his hair. “Weren’t you, honey.” She sounds as though she’s talking to a toddler who’s been acting out at daycare. “I think you were just shy. All these new boys and girls! All the new toys! It was all just too much.”

I watch, frozen, as Shane responds to the patronizing tone and physical touch with an open-mouthed smile. He puts her arms around Janet, making the teacher laugh.

“What a cuddly boy you are!” She cuddles him back, and then pats him on the head before getting back to her feet. She turns to me. “And you know what worked, Danny? You know what made Shane a happy boy?”

I blink at her. I’m speechless. I can’t even imagine, or rather, I don’t want to.

“It was filling his tum!” Janet says, poking Shane’s stomach and earning a giggle from the grown man.

“That’s right, you needed your nummy-nums.” She nods at me. “Did he have breakfast, do you know?

I shrug.

“No worries,” says Janet. “As soon as he tried the oatmeal, he started to relax. And once his tum was full, he was all smiles!”

It’s then that I notice the remains of the meal on Shane’s cheeks and chin. Like a messy toddler whose mother hasn’t wiped his face clean. And I look at the rest of him, seeing the bulge around his waist that tells me he’s wearing a nappy underneath the fuzzy pajamas.

At least he’s not naked, I tell myself. But as I look around the nursery, I have to wonder how long it will be before he’s just like the rest of them.

From the expression on Shane’s face, it’s obvious that he won’t care.

I watch Shane as he seems to lose interested in the talking grown-ups, and he crawls over to his new playmate.

I get a moment to wonder; what’s my job here, in this moment? What’s my responsibility? I’ve been working at the school for over a year, and this is hardly the most disturbing thing that’s happened, but at the time, Shane was under my watch.

So, I say, “Janet, he’s supposed to be a teacher.”

Janet laughs. “I don’t think Shane’s going to be teaching anyone anything, silly.” She looks down at him fondly. “He’s just a drooly, messy baby.”

“He only just started here,” I say. “He hadn’t…what am I supposed to tell Mrs Taylor?”

“It doesn’t work on everyone,” says Janet. “Only special boys and girls. Something to do with their brain chemistry. Above my pay grade, to be honest!”

It’s hardly an answer, but it was the only one Janet is going to give me. And the longer I spend in the nursery classroom, the more I feel uncomfortable. Twitchy. As if I had better keep my hands off the toys. Better not eat the food. Better just get the hell out.

Jane puts a hand on my arm. “Can you stick around, Danny? Just to help me out for a little bit? I’m missing my helper, after all.”

I manage to look apologetic. “I can’t, sorry.” I back away. “I’ve got Shane’s…I’ve got the seniors this afternoon.”  I give Shane one more look; he’s cuddling with the woman, and if they really were toddlers, people would say they were adorable.

I make my way to the door. “Good to see you, Janet.”

She grins at me. “Visit again soon,” she says. “Don’t be a stranger!”

It’s only when I’m back in the hallway, door closed, that I realize I’m holding my breath.

THE END

A new Ngatea teacher doesn't know what he's getting into when a coworker bets he can't last a day working in the infants room - Rick