AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Alright, I’ll take notes on my phone and email them to Principal Cohen. Sound good?”
She nods. “Hit me with it.”
I grin. “Okay. Share with your partner how you’ve been adjusting to your new position.”
Gabi looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Is this seriously the type of shit we have to talk about every week?”
Shrugging, I scroll through the questions, looking at what they ask of us.
“Adjusting to your new position…in need of any resources…best and worst part of your week,” I say, listing them off one by one.
“Fine. No. The in-service,” she says, looking at me with a sly smile. “Although I’m assuming that’s not the type of answers she’s looking for.”
“Hey, we can try to get away with it if you want. Maybe it’ll buy us a week or two.”
Her grin remains, though she continues focusing on what she’s making. Gabi’s hands move gently, fluidly, like some sort of dance, as she pulls the clay upward and outward, into a large bowl.
“That’s so cool. When did you get into ceramics?”
She licks her lips and puts one hand in the center then begins bringing the rims together.
Maybe it’s not a bowl?
“I took a ceramics elective first semester at MSA. Fell head over heels for it. Changed my concentration and never looked back.” Then she looks at me. “Have you ever thrown anything before?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. A baseball.”
Gabi laughs, the sound familiar and beautiful as it blows open something inside me that I thought had closed.
“It’s how we talk about pottery. You throw a vase, throw a mug. Right now, I’m throwing a pot.”
“Ah, I thought it was a bowl.”
She nods, continuing to gently edge the clay with her fingers.
“It looks that way when it starts, but then you bring it in and you get this really neat kind of rounded effect with the walls.” She narrows her eyes and leans forward, her wheel slowing down as she seemingly finishes off the rim. “And then you have a pot you can use for plants or…whatever.”
Taking a wire, she scrapes it along the bottom, separating the clay from the wheel. Then she gently picks it up and puts it on a wooden board before crossing to the other side of the room and placing it on a rack next to a bunch of other pieces.
“Are those pieces your students have done?”
She nods. “They’re doing a great job.”
I watch her for a beat, noticing the hint of pride in her movements as she says that.
“Being a teacher suits you,” I tell her.
Gabi looks surprised at my comment. “I’m not soft enough to be a teacher. You’re supposed to want to like…change the world and stuff.” She shakes her head. “But it’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“I bet you’re better than you think. You’re really good at pushing people to be better.”
“Most people don’t like to be pushed.”
“Now that,” I say, pointing at her, “is very true.”
Gabi spends a few minutes washing her hands, and then she takes a seat at the computer sitting in the corner. Thankfully, she takes over trying to type up the notes because me pecking at my phone keyboard was not it.
“So let’s type this thing up so we can get out of here?”
