Page 22 of The Headmaster’s Rule

She’s nervous. Really nervous. Her binder trembles in her hands, even as she holds her head high, and that unsettles me.

I grab the chair from behind Danny’s desk and wheel it around to sit with them. She relaxes a little at this, and I settle in to hear what she has to say. Even though I’ll probably have to reject another one of her impractical, starry-eyed ideas, the least I can do is politely listen.

“What I’m proposing isn’t only a program,” she begins cautiously. “It’s a shift in how we think about student success.”

I rub my chin as she speaks, distracted by her outfit. Today, she’s in a bright skirt, hair piled up on her head, held in place by a large pink blossom. Her legs cross at her slender ankles, feet clad in those same red heels from our first meeting, and the scent of roses and peonies clings to the air. Eleanor’s scent. Her knee jiggles as she speaks, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and place a steadying hand on it.

Jesus. Focus.

“We do everything we can to help students academically, but they’re struggling in other areas. They get anxious, overwhelmed, stressed. Not because they aren’t trying, but because they don’t know how to look after themselves emotionally. What if we taught them those skills? Shifted our focus to include not only academics, but also emotional wellbeing?”

This is exactly the sort of thing I’d expect to hear from Eleanor, and I have to stifle a smile. I lean back in my chair, motioning for her to go on.

“I want to call it Safe Harbor.” Her eyes are lit in that same way they always are when she’s passionate about an idea, and despite myself, I’m still listening. “Inside the school, it includes a few key elements.”

She hands me a stapled booklet of paper, and Danny leans in to read over my shoulder as she covers the bullet points.

“Throughout the year we’ll set aside dedicated weeks, called ‘Ripple Weeks,’ designed to slow down, reflect, and focus on connection. We’ll provide calm spaces in every classroom, and do daily check-ins so no student gets overlooked, no issue goes unnoticed. We could even have a small group of trained staff that we call ‘Lighthouses,’ that any student can go to when they need support.”

Eleanor pauses, glancing up to ensure we’re following, but I’m busy scanning her document. I was expecting another pie-in-the-sky idea, but she’s put a lot of thought and work into this.

“Outside the school,” she continues, more confidently, “it reaches even further. We’ll create a shared garden where students, teachers, and community members can grow food together, and we’ll invite local businesses who wish to be involved to join a volunteer exchange. They can share their skills with the students, and our students can give back to the community.”

Frustratingly, she’s covered all her bases. Internal to support the school and students, external to contribute positively to the community and satisfy donors.

“The community wants to support this school, which is why I’m proposing we use the fall fundraiser to get this program off the ground. I believe we could raise enough to do that.”

I turn the page, finding a breakdown of proposed costs, and my eyebrows jump. For someone as… impractical as Eleanor, this is surprisingly detailed. Annoyingly so.

“We want our students to be resilient, but that needs to be actively taught. Not in the classroom, but through developing a sense of self outside it. Through systems that remind them they’re not alone. Safe Harbor is how we teach our students to weather the storm, no matter what. That when things get tough—whether that’s at home, online, or inside their own minds—this school, this community, will be their harbor.” Eleanor exhales, leaning back in her chair. She’s so hopeful, so earnest, it tugs at something hidden deep in my chest.

“Yes!” Beside me, Danny begins a slow, appreciative clap. “Well done, Nora. This is fantastic.” He turns to me, face split in a grin. “Don’t you agree, Theo?”

I frown at him calling me Theo in front of Eleanor, as if we’re all old buddies. And the simple act of doing so brings me back to reality. It’s all too easy to get swept up when Eleanor gestures wildly and speaks with such conviction, and there’s no denying she’s worked very hard on this, but it all comes down to what I can sell to the board.

“Thank you, Miss Hart,” I say, pushing to my feet. I gesture to the door, setting her document on Danny’s desk. “Please give Mr. Fells and me some time to discuss this.”

Her face falls, but I resist the urge to soften the blow with praise. That’s not my job. I asked her to approach local donors over the weekend, not build an entire proposal. There’s no denying her passion, her energy, the sheer effort she’s poured into this, but I can’t let that sway me. I can’t let the quiet downturn of her lips pull me off course.

I have a job to do.

Danny walks Eleanor to the door, murmuring something, and I’m pretty sure I catch the line “I’ll talk to him,” but I can’t be sure. Either way, Danny’s expression is grim when he returns.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

I smooth my tie. “What do you mean?”

“All the reasons her proposal won’t work. Go on, give it to me.”

“Come on, Danny,” I level with him. “Ripple weeks? Lighthouses? Calm spaces?”

“You don’t think they’re a good idea?” he counters. “That students wouldn’t actually benefit from them? Nora has a corner with beanbags that her class loves. I’ve seen her use it when kids need a moment to settle, and it works.”

“I’m not denying that. It’s not that the ideas are bad, but it all seems a little… soft. Difficult to quantify. To control.”

Danny shakes his head in disbelief. “I think it’s awesome. And I think she’s right. It’s what this school needs.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “You can’t honestly tell me you’ve got a better idea than that.”

I rub the back of my neck, agitated, because he’s right, I don’t have a better idea. That’s the frustrating part. The proposal covers everything it needs to, on paper, anyway, and there’s a level of detail to it I hadn’t expected.