CHAPTER 1
EZRA
Jessi shakes her head as she eyes the paper mâché monstrosity in front of me. I’m not sure why she’s eyeing it like it’s new considering she’s been with me every step of the way as I made a craft dream into reality. It’s the centerpiece of my classroom décor and has to be done before the school year starts.
And it’s not like I really get to take the summer off. Not when you can’t sleep on fundraiser opportunities around here andwant to get your club to the capital. Again.
“You need to stop eyeing my bell,” I warn her with a smile on my face.
“I’m just in awe,” she tells me and puts her scissors down.
Our classrooms are always very different. Or maybe it’s because she’s teaching English and she has stories to rely on, ones which will hook at least a few students. I’m teaching history. Talk about a snore-fest for most of the class.
They only see it as stuff that happened too long ago to matter. I want to help them see the story of our past and how the choices people made have shaped our existence. I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job, but I think the first step is to ensure they don’t walk into a boring classroom.
I give the paper mâché Liberty Bell a spin from where I have it hanging in front of me. My small table is filled with spools of disco style mirror tiles. And glue. I’m going to use so much glue.
“I wonder if I should order another case of glue,” I muse, more to myself than Jessi.
When she snorts, I look at her to find her nodding. “Canyouever really have enough glue?”
“That sounded kind of like an attack on my character,” I deadpan.
She smiles at me before taking a big drink of her wine. “I’m just saying,” she holds up one hand in surrender.
When I stick my tongue out at her, we laugh together. That’s how it is with us after being friends for so many years. I’m just glad she’s only a few hallways away from me all day. We can doour own thing, and we do, but it’s nice to have backup. Especially during meetings and when doing anything faculty related.
Yikes.
“Just wait and see, this disco Liberty Bell is really going to tie the whole room together,” I warn her with a smile.
“I have no doubt,” she looks around the room where I’ve already started gathering other supplies, most of them very patriotic looking since now is the time to snatch them up. “You’re going to get so many good deals soon on everything red, white, and blue.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “If you don’t think that was part of the reason I chose the American Revolution as a theme, then you should give me more credit for my brilliance.”
She bows slightly and makes a twirly motion with her hand, her voice contrite and teasing, “My sincerest apologies. I should have just assumed such ingenuity was nothing but good planning.”
“Clearly,” my voice is haughty, my nose tipped up into the air.
I sit back and look at my creation, held together by hope and chicken wire, and marvel a little. Normally I would have just hung up a plastic replica.
But then I saw a video on social media where a woman was covering an oversized pepper with mirror tiles. I could easily see a DIY disco ball extravaganza in my future. And why not the Liberty Bell?
It really will pull the room together.
“Are you almost ready for the fair?” Jessi asks the question hesitantly, and I don’t blame her for it.
The fair stresses me out every year. For the Youth in Government club I run at the school, it’s our biggest fundraiser. If it doesn’t go well, it puts the year-end trip to the capital in jeopardy. My kids want to go on the trip and take over the capital.
They’re not the only ones who want to go because I’m already too excited about it. You’ll never understand the feeling of seeing one of your students debate on the floor of the capital building until you experience it. It’s a glimpse into a future they could have.
I’m always left exhausted after the trip. And inspired.
We’re going again next year. As long as the fundraiser earns enough.
“It’ll be good,” I chirp the words. I hope saying them out loud will make them come true.
Jessi’s mouth turns down in a frown as she stares at me. “I’m not buying your bullshit, Ez,” she lets me know. “Now, spill. Lay it all out there. Get it out. You’ll feel better and I’ll have helped a little. Win-win.”
