Page 19 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

Speakers thumped and whined as the Headmaster tapped on a microphone. “Right, settle down everyone. Let’s get started, shall we? I am Headmaster Richmond, and I would like to welcome everyone to Newbury Academy.” He paused briefly for a round of applause and a few shouts of “hell yeah, Richmond!” before continuing.

“Yes, thank you. I hope that we can have another great year together. Newbury has a proud history as one of the oldest and best-regarded educational institutions in the United States. You are a part of that history and tradition.”

As Richmond droned on with his remarks about honor, privilege, and responsibility, my mind wandered back to last Friday. True to his word, Cooper had emailed a copy of his lesson plans within thirty minutes of leaving Franklin Hall. His bare-bones email—no subject or body, just an attachment—walked the fine line between efficiently concise and downright rude, but I decided not to be annoyed as I downloaded the attachment. He sent the lesson plan. Did I really need a flowery email along with it? Nope. The .docx file was just fine.

The file was eighteen pages of single-spaced, 10pt, Times New Roman text, arranged into an outline with crystalline order. My brow furrowed in equal parts concentration and confusion as I read the document. His plan looked… wrong.

A side-by-side comparison with the approved course syllabus confirmed my suspicions—his lesson plan didn’t match the syllabus.

Or maybe it matched sort of, but I had to squint and tilt my head to see any similarity. All of the units were there, and they were in the right order. But that’s about where the likeness ended.

Grabbing a textbook that I had snagged from the classroom, I flipped to the first chapter. The examples and experiments in the lesson plan weren’t anywhere to be found. Where had he gotten them? Had he made them up?

Shaking my head, I looked up at the door, as though I could see through to his apartment. He was probably over there laughing at me. This must be a fake lesson plan. He hadn’t struck me as petty or malicious, simply rude. But that’s what his lesson plan looked like—a very elaborate joke.

At my expense.

I was not amused.

Two could play this game. I clicked on the track changes button and started typing over his file. By midnight, the file was more red than black, but it was a lesson plan that I considered usable. I changed the font to Comic Sans, saved a copy, and replied back to his email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Revised Chemistry Lesson Plan

Hi Mr. Cooper,

Thanks for sharing your lesson plan. I can Tell(urium) that you put a lot of thought into it, though it did look only Haf(nium) done to me. I made a few recommendations to more closely align with the syllabus. See attached.

Cheers,

Mel

Had I felt incredibly silly writing that pun-filled email? Yes, very much so. But I needed to send a message. We were both playing the same game, but that didn’t mean that he got to make the rules. He could be the boring, serious teacher, but that just wasn’t me. I intended to approach this experience the way I did anything else—vibrant, hopeful, and with a smile on my face.

I had listened hard after I hit send, and I swore I could hear a muffled thump and swearing a few minutes later. I hadn’t heard from him for the rest of the weekend, which was fine by me.

Richmond’s words pulled me back to the present. “I would like to remind everyone to review your student handbooks for a complete list of school rules. It has been updated over the summer, and all students are expected to comply. I didn’t know it was a rule will not be a valid excuse for avoiding consequences.”

I made a mental note to review the handbook. If I was expected to enforce them, then I really ought to know the rules myself.

“I would also like to announce some new faculty members: Mr. Cooper and Ms. Burke will be filling the role of chemistry teacher together in the wake of Mr. Stephens’s retirement. Please offer them a warm Newbury welcome.”

My face nearly split from smiling as the students politely applauded. At the end of the aisle, Cooper was nodding graciously, looking friendly and at ease, a stark contrast to the scowls and smirks that I was becoming accustomed to. He glanced my way, and I jerked my attention back to Richmond, mortified to be caught staring.

“Finally, sign-ups for extracurricular activities are live on the school website. Please check there for the date and time of the club meetings or tryouts for athletics. As always, we, the entire staff and faculty, are pleased to have you back on campus and are looking forward to another wonderful Newbury year. You may now head over to the dining hall to enjoy the welcome dinner. Thank you.”

Amid more applause and more whoops of “hell yeah, Richmond,” the students began filing out, leaving the faculty milling around the stage.

A severe-looking woman with a petite stature and sharp eyes approached me with a hand outstretched. She looked a little older than me, but it was hard to tell with her tight ponytail pulling her skin like a facelift. “Ashley Williams, algebra and geometry.”

I took her extended hand cautiously. “Hi! I’m Mel—”

“Melanie Burke, chemistry.” Ashley barreled on like a juggernaut, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I had spoken. “The hens and I are so glad to have another woman on the faculty. Strong women have to stick together.”

With the strength of a much larger person, she pulled me by our still-clasped hands across the stage to a circle of three other women. We brushed past Cooper who was talking to an amiable-looking bald man in a bow tie.