Page 91 of Apparently, I’m Torture

When his parents congratulated him on his latest test scores, when they told him they were proud, he cried into a textbook I’d given him. I rubbed his back, handed him a tissue, and he thanked me. He told me I changed his life.

We kept in contact. Jacob wound up getting married, had a few kids, and now he runs his own accounting firm.

There were so many times where I’d wondered what would’ve happened to him if I just walked down the street. If I saw the angry, dangerous kid, and left. What would’ve happened to him?

What would’ve happened to me?

Jacob thought I changed his life, but it went both ways. He changed mine too. He gave me that euphoric feeling, the kind I still felt when a student looked at me with light in their eyes. They got it. It clicked. I taught them something new, and it changed them.

Some people find their calling years after they leave school. Some switch, some have their careers forced on them, some swear they always knew who they were meant to be, and some people have a moment, like I did.

Sitting there with Jacob, I knew. I was going to become a teacher.

After I finished high school and started the education program at Pace, one thing that always stood out to me was Maslow’s Hierarchy.

The basic idea was that for a student to meet their full potential, their most basic needs had to be met. Kids needed regular food, delivered at reliable times. They needed clean water, and a roof over their heads. They needed rest, and to feel safe. More than that, kids needed to feel appreciated, valued and loved.

When they had those things, they could learn to reach self-actualization. They’d learn their capabilities, their limits, their wants and needs, and they’d be able to build something for themselves.

I had the luxury of teaching at a private school fulltime, but thanks to educational conferences, and short-term public school placements, I’d seen more over the past handful of years than I’d ever seen while tutoring Jacob.

It was a shock to learn about the number of kids who didn’t get a basic three meals a day. Or about the students who came to school in the same clothes for a week straight. I’ve seen kids beaten and bruised, showing up to school just so they could put their head on a desk, so they could have that minute of peace.

This job has broken my heart so many times. But I can’t stop doing it. I can’t stop trying to help them. I have to do more. I have to do better.

So, after Lilly and I… stopped speaking, I threw myself into my work, and created an initiative that centered on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

I needed approval from the education board and funding for my project. I was excited for the first time in years. My initiative was going to happen. Students would get their meals, they would have a place to rest, and our reporting and welfare systems would be improved. They’d be supported, they’d be heard, they’d be mentored.

And then Trevor fucked everything up.

Standing in the meeting room, the teachers I’d been working with for the past five weeks focused on me, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet their eyes.

“Miss Fares and Miss Walker won’t be working with us on the fundraiser anymore.”

One sentence, and the room broke into a low-voiced hum. Someone asked why.

Stacey stood next to me, and cleared her throat. “We can’t discuss why Miss Fares and Miss Walker decided to leave our event. All that matters is how we handle the slack they’ve left behind.”

Mentally slapping myself, I rubbed my face and started issuing orders. Without much pushback, Stacey and I redistributed the rest of the tasks among the remaining teachers.

Once the meeting was done, I met Stacey’s eyes and mouthed, “Stay.”

The look she gave me was dark, but she hung around after everyone left.

Arms folded, she leaned against the table and drawled, “What is it now, Shawn?”

With no one else but Stacey around, I felt free to pace, rub my face and press my palms into my eyes. I was fucking exhausted.

“I’ve decided something.” I lowered my hands and turned to her. “And I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Her brows bunched by her eyes, but she waited.

“Stacey, we know Trevor set this up. And I think you helped him do it.”

Her eyes rolled and she straightened. “You can’t seriously believe that we had anything to do with what happened to Lilly.”

“I do. The facts are simple. The email that was sent last night was from her faculty computer. Lilly was with me, you know that.”