receive the written inquiries I sent with Frank? According to him, you have yet to send home a reply.” My mind raced—written inquiries? After a moment I finally remembered odd offers, written on floral stationery, of volunteer-aide classroom assistance that Frank occasionally handed me. I’d read the first one all the way through, worried it might be some personalized warning about a specific food allergy or attention disorder, but when I realized their unchanging contents I began to throw them away upon receipt.
“Of course, yes—I figured we could just chat in person since I knew I’d be seeing you soon at open house.” Mrs. Pachenko’s pursed lips flexed slightly tighter.
“Well I’ve always started the week classes began,” she stressed, lamenting the great inconvenience I’d brought upon her. “But I’m a quick study. If you can give me the lesson plans and assignments for the next few weeks, I’ll simply work double-time to catch up. I’ll have no choice.”
It took all the muscle control in my body to keep my eyes from growing large with perception of insanity. I wasn’t sure what we’d be doing in class tomorrow, let alone several weeks from now. “You know, Mrs. Pachenko, the reason I waited to talk to you in person is that we have a somewhat sensitive situation I think you’d be a perfect fit for.” I lowered my voice to a confidential volume, taking her by the arm and guiding her toward a corner of the classroom.
“I have a colleague,” I continued, “who could really use the assistance of someone with expertise. Now, I know you’ve probably always helped out in Frank’s classes, and I get it.