Chapter Text
Getting a new student in the middle of the quarter was always a pleasant surprise. The benefit of being a teacher was his newfound appreciation for the effort it took to integrate these sudden students.
But putting in the effort was a treasure he wished he’d been afforded in his youth. It was so simple, really, but it made all the difference to children in these situations. Sudden upheavals were already such a disaster for adolescents, the added variable of puberty certainly wasn’t helping.
Overall, it wasn’t a great experience.
Which is why, upon receiving only a day’s notice of the arrival of a new student, Ryland Grace was scrambling to make the transition into his classroom as seamless as possible for them.
Singling this student out to introduce them was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it gave all of his current students the knowledge of their name, rather than twenty-seven individual introductions. On the other, it could be the cause of massive embarrassment for this new student, which he understood to be tantamount to social suicide in the eyes of pre-teens. It wasn’t a fun seesaw, weighing the two options, but he decided going with the first was better as it showed he was making the effort.
Above all else, he wanted this student to trust him. It was one of the more rewarding aspects of teaching middle schoolers – he saw these kids five days a week, upwards of two hours each day, sometimes more than these kids saw their own parents. It did wonders for building a rapport of trust between them. The single most vindicating demonstration of his effort in building that trust is when students come to him with personal issues. He’d remind them of his role as a mandated reporter (though thankfully he’s only had to invoke those powers once), and they would…talk. Family issues, sibling rivalries, relationship troubles, he’s seen it all.
But it meant the world to him that these children trusted him.
He hoped to the heavens above that this new student would learn to do the same.
Ryland glanced at the sheet as he waited for the bell signaling the start of his morning class. Only a few students were in, some frantically scribbling away at their forgotten assignments for other classes, a few who were doodling while sharing an earbud each. His eyes dropped to the name of the student who would arrive in his sixth period, the final class of the day.
Claire Gentry
He sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair from out of his face before he began drafting a letter for Claire and her guardians. It was the least he could with her coming in during the tail end of February, he thought.
And so he began to write.
——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ———
Sixth period arrived quicker than he realized. As soon as the bell rang for fifth and he smiled at the horde of students packing up their bags and moving with cheerful exuberance to their final class of the day. He waved to all of them, high fiving a few who prompted it, before glancing at the clock.
The five minute passing period was swift, as it typically was. He erased the notes from his last class, prepping the board with assignment instructions for the incoming eighth graders. Today was a day of great excitement for the class who’d spent the last two weeks learning all they could about air resistance and drag – they’d be splitting into groups to design their very own bottle rockets. A hefty few points of extra credit would be awarded to the team whose rocket stayed in the air the longest.
Oh, how he hoped this Claire fit right in. It would be awful for her to feel left out on her very first day.
The students of Mr. Grace’s six period class slowly filtered in. Abby, Rehka, Jordan, the usual crowd. He would never inform any of his students of this fact, but the last class of the day tended to be his favorite. The kids always bubbled with an energy of excitement the other classes typically didn’t share, and it tended to convey itself in a genuine curiosity for science.
And there it was – the only unfamiliar face.
A girl of average height (at least for an eighth grader) and dark hair walked in, hands clenched tightly on the straps of her backpack. Ryland stepped forward immediately, approaching her like one would a stray cat.
“Hi, I’m Mr. Grace,” he said, pointing at himself. “I’ll be your sixth period teacher, teaching you science.”
“I’m Claire,” she smiled politely at him, but he saw the hesitation that came with it.
“I saw the note that you have a pacemaker. Is there anything you need for accommodations? I want you to be safe and healthy here.”
All medical issues possessed by his students were at the forefront of his mind. Especially seeing as he taught one of the more volatile subjects, safety was of the utmost priority.
He kept the room stocked with at least two epipens for the five students he knew to have severe allergies. In the storage cabinet were spare blankets he washed every week for the few with poor circulation. He updated the first aid aid kit monthly. If his new student with a pacemaker needed anything, Ryland would make sure she had it.
“I don’t think so. If there’s a glitch in it I might pass out and have to go to the hospital but that’s only happened once in the three years I’ve had it so fingers crossed,” she smiled, as though that were the most normal sentence ever.
But great news! She had a sense of humor!
“A-Ah, alright. Do you mind if I introduce you?” he asked with a reassuring grin. “It’ll be real quick I promise.”
Surprisingly, she nodded, before following the others to take the spare seat in the second row. When the bell rang, he moved to his standard position at the front of the class and cleared his throat, allowing for the pre-class chatter to die down.
“Good afternoon! I’m sure many of you have noticed we have someone new joining us today. I’m sure everyone will join me in welcoming Ms. Claire to our class,” Ryland gestured to his newest student.
She flushed under the attention but gave a little wave.
He went on to continue the lesson plan for the day before allowing the formation of the rocket groups. He watched from the corner of his eye as Claire was invited into a group without him ever asking and he smiled proudly.
When the end of the school day came at last, Ryland breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a complete disaster. In fact, he thought he did pretty damn well!
“Remember your preliminary bottle rocket designs are due on Wednesday! Have a great rest of the day, everyone!” he called over the calamity of the bell. “Claire, can I speak with you?”
She waved at her rocket group, even exchanging numbers with a few others, before bouncing over to him.
“I have a letter for your parents or guardians. You had fun today?” he asked with a grin. She nodded, grabbing the letter and putting it into her bag.
“You’re really nice,” Claire suddenly said before turning on her heels. “Thank you!”
Ryland felt the heat rise to his cheeks before wishing her well and waving as she closed the door.
He rode the high of making that child smile all the way home.
——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ———
Courtland Gentry did not hover. He did not fret, he did not worry.
So why was Claire starting her first day in a real school suddenly like an ambush in his mind? She was fine, he’s sure she was, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to stake out a middle school with a sniper rifle.
When he received a phone call from her at the hour of her lunch time, he picked the phone up with a tad more urgency than he intended.
“I hate it here,” was the first thing she said to him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Teenage angst was something he could deal with. If she hated it, it was boring, which was safe.
“You haven’t even finished a whole day,” he snorted, sliding the phone beneath his ear as he stretched. “And aren’t you supposed to be off your phone?”
He heard her sigh loudly through the speakers.
“I’m in the bathroom during break. There’s loads of girls here on their phone. Do I really have to do this? Why can’t I just keep getting tutors?”
“You need to interact with people who aren’t CIA. Preferably around your own age. Just give it a chance, sweetheart,” he said, pulling out a packet of Trident Spearmint.
“Are you chewing–?”
He hung up on her with a grin, tossing his phone aside.
Court had expected her to curse him out the moment she crossed the threshold of their new residence, only a short eight minute walk from the school.
Which is why when she arrived home absolutely beaming, Court was both puzzled and intrigued. What had happened in the last two hours of the school day to change her attitude that much?
“My science teacher is awesome,” she laughed, as soon she walked through the doors, tearing off her backpack. “We spent the entire hour designing bottle rockets, y’know the ones that you fill with water and then shoot into the sky? We’re gonna launch them next week and I want my group’s one to be the best. We’ll get extra credit for it, Mr. Grace said so.”
He had looked up all of her teachers ahead of time (being cautious was a virtue, sue him), but one certainly stood out like a sore thumb.
Dr. Ryland Grace.
Frankly, he was grossly overqualified for his position, which raised a few alarm bells in Court’s mind. The man held a doctorate in molecular biology, what the hell was he doing teaching at a middle school?
A few more searches revealed the likely reason for the step-down in his employment. He’d been a renowned academic before he was quite literally thrown from his field. Who knew speculative xenobiology was such a pressure cooker of an environment? Not him, that’s for damn sure. He hadn’t even graduated high school.
The video of the famed UNESCO conference nearly had him howling. Calling the leading scholar a staggering waste of carbon in retaliation before being dragged out kicking and screaming? Yeah, that’s exactly who he wants teaching his kid science. Someone who isn’t afraid to fight for themselves.
“Oh?” he asked, feigning ignorance as he watched her pull out a drawing of a rocket. “What’s so special about him, huh? You were all but begging me to take you home a few hours ago.”
“He’s just so cool! And he really made sure I wasn’t out of place, even asked if I needed accommodations for my pacemaker,” Claire replied. “Do we have trashbags? Like those big ones? We’re gonna need a parachute for the rocket.”
“We should–”
“Oh, and he has something for you, too,” she interrupted, holding a letter. He reached for it curiously.
The back had nothing but the word Gentry written on it. The seal on the front was held taut by a sticker of Saturn. He slid his finger beneath the seal and opened the compartment to reveal a hand-written letter, which he began to slowly read.
To the Guardians of Claire Gentry,
Welcome to Grover Cleveland Middle! I hope Claire has an excellent time here both at the school and in my classroom. I know mid-year transitions can be tough so I just wanted to write to reiterate that I am here to answer any questions!
I also see that she has a pacemaker, so if she needs anything at all please don’t hesitate to reach out! With that being said, in case of medical emergencies, I am leaving my contact information. I would appreciate the effort in establishing a connection beforehand so information can get to you ASAP in worst case scenarios.
Lastly, I wish for Claire to succeed in this classroom, and with that comes a few videos and movies that require a parent/guardian’s signature (PG-13). These videos are meant to be supplemental to the material taught in class. I’ve also attached these forms to the back of this letter.
Here’s to a wonderful rest of the school year!
Sincerely,
Dr. Ryland Grace
Science (6th-8th)
What appeared to be a fox was hand-drawn next to the man’s signature. Cute.
Court’s nose twitched as a scent accompanied the letter. It was calming, like the salt of the sea mixed with a vanilla carried on the winds.
Omega, his mind supplied easily. He’s not quite sure what to do with that information. On the one hand, it was impressive. The man held a Ph.D and fought his way into academia. Not stereotypical of an Omega. On the other hand, it was comforting. Claire hadn’t had any meaningful interactions with Omegas, this would be a good learning opportunity for her.
“He sounds pretty great,” he supplied to Claire from behind his shoulder.
She doodled on her rocket ship sketch without ever acknowledging his words.
——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ———
He’s not sure what possessed him to email Dr. Ryland Grace a few minutes shy of midnight. But long after Claire went to bed and he’d analyzed the perimeter twice, he reread the letter. Over. And over. And over.
After about the fourth reread, Court pulled out his laptop with determination.
Good evening,
Thank you for the letter. Claire did nothing but praise you until bedtime. It means the world to me.
I can be reached at XXX-XXX-XXXX. I work odd hours but please call if anything is wrong with Claire.
Courtland Gentry
He wasn’t expecting a reply back at this hour, so he shut the lid of his laptop and decided now was as good as ever to get some rest.
——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ———
Of course! My pleasure :)
Ryland Grace, Ph.D
New Message from [Unknown]
🦊 :)