She covers her mouth when she lets out a small laugh. “I’d intended for you to take my desk when they brought in the student one. The thought of you sitting at that little desk made me laugh.” She surreptitiously looks me up and down.
Despite how sly she thinks she is, I totally notice her checking me out. And even though I know it shouldn’t feel good, it does. It totally does. “Oh, I don’t mind. Whatever works for you.”
She grins at me, and I can’t help but notice how perfect her bow-shaped lips are. They are stained a deep pink color from whatever lipstick she’s slicked over them and match her sweater perfectly. “You can use mine, it’s fine.” She holds up a finger. “They did manage to find a full-sized desk for you for the classroom, so at least there’s that. Come on, I’ll show you.” She spins around, waving a hand over her shoulder for me to follow, leading me out.
“Like I said, no worries at all.” My only real concern now is that I can’t seem to control my gaze as it takes a slow tour of the curves of her tiny waist, over her pert ass, and down her legs. They’re encased in black dress pants and finished off with the same sexy black heels she’d had on the other day.
I blink twice when I realize she’s speaking to me. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I’m a little distracted by the newness of everything.” Or by her fine ass.
“No problem at all. I was just saying I’d like for you to sit at the back of the classroom, at the desk they brought in for you, and just observe for the day. We’ll have time during our lunch break after the first two classes and again during our planning period at the end of the day when I can answer any initial questions you have. Does that sound like it would work?” She studies me, and this time, I’m drawn in by the deep brown of her eyes. Her makeup is understated and tasteful, but in my opinion, she doesn’t need it. She’s an all-natural knock-out.
Realizing I’m still a little lost in the depths of her eyes, I give myself a shake in an attempt to regain my grip on reality—the reality where she’s a teacher and I’m technically her student. “Sure, that works. That would be great, actually. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’m not above passing out or collecting papers or making copies or doing whatever else to help. I’m here to learn, so definitely put me to work.”
A slow smile spreads across her berry-pink lips. “I will certainly do that. I like your willingness to jump right in, Sawyer.”
I nod, pointing toward the door. “I’m just going to grab a notebook and pen from my bag. I’ll be right back.” As I exit the classroom, I notice the volume of traffic in the hallway has picked up substantially. It must not be too much longer until the first classes of the day start. I make a mental note to ask Hadleigh for a bell schedule as I survey the happenings in the hallway. Students aged fourteen all the way up to eighteen do what comes naturally to them—gabbing with their friends, hurrying through last minute homework and, if I’m not mistaken, a whole hell of a lot of flirting.
I’m as interested in studying student interactions as I am in learning from Hadleigh. Knowing your subject area, teaching it well, and handling the students are all very different skill sets. I’ve got the history part down, but I’m feeling a little apprehensive about the other two. We’ll see how it goes, I guess.
Back in the classroom, seats are filling up but most students are milling about, hanging around in small groups and chatting with friends. Hadleigh’s seated at her desk, so I slowly cross the room, aware of a certain hum beginning to fill the classroom. I’m pretty sure all the whispering I hear is conjecture as to who I am and what I’m doing there. I don’t really blame them. I’m someone new and different, disrupting their morning. Or maybe they look at it more as a pleasant diversion from their normal day?
Either way, this is going down. She looks up with a wink as she rises from her seat. The student she was speaking to gives her a quick nod of understanding and heads back to his seat. “Hang out here with me until I can introduce you, okay?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” I fold my arms across my chest, surveying the class as a whole. There are about twenty-five kids settling into their seats. Holy hell. If she teaches six classes and they are all this size, that means she’s responsible for a hundred and fifty kids. She’s had to learn their names, grade their work, assess their learning, and deal with any drama that crops up. “How on earth do you manage this, Had—I mean Ms. Beckett?”
She gives me a reassuring smile. “You just get used to it. You’ll see.”
After a brief introduction—during which I feel like a fish in a fishbowl, all eyes on me—I find myself at the back of the classroom. Hadleigh begins the day’s lesson for this class, which happens to be one of the ones studying World War I. Despite being a little distracted by watching the kids and how they interact with her, I’m also amazed at her comfort level with the subject; the questions she poses to the class are both thought-provoking and interesting. She keeps the class’s attention effortlessly, which I find pretty telling, considering she’s a fairly new teacher. She’s good at what she does, so I don’t think it will matter if I have someone who is fairly new to the profession as a mentor. I really want someone with
