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“She’s tough. Expects a lot.”

“Then she’ll be thrilled by what we come up with.” Georgie clicked her pen, ready to write.

Oliver shifted in his chair. “Fingers crossed I’m around to see it.”

A terse scoff escaped through her pursed lips. “I wish people would realize a slow start doesn’t mean catastrophe. Sometimes we need to ease in, find our groove. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“Neither were the pyramids,” said Oliver.

“You’d think your boss would get that, working here of all places. Maybe she needs a helpful reminder.”

“Hopefully that’s all she needs.” Oliver picked up his ginger ale, which he’d poured into a white wine glass as it was the only clean glassware he could find in the staff’s basement kitchen. “I like this job. I’d like to stay. I’ve worked too damn long in this field to be cast aside.”

As he tilted the glass to his lips and took a sip, Georgie’s gaze softened. “Yeah.” She glanced downward. “That’s the worst feeling.”

Brows rising, Oliver pitched forward, keen to find out more, but Georgie started speaking before he could ask.

“Look, I know there’ve been challenges since you arrived, but they’ll get ironed out. Just the fact you asked for help proves your commitment. Your boss will see that, Oliver. They’re lucky to have you.”

And Oliver was lucky to have Georgie, even as a temporary confidant.

He stilled, finding himself giving in to a grin. “Well”—he swirled the ginger ale in his glass—“I appreciate your vote of confidence. I hope I can prove you right.”

“What’s to prove?” She placed her hand on her chest. “I am right.”

Oliver scratched his temple, taking in the spirited bounce of her brows playfully punctuating her point. Something about Georgie had changed in the last few minutes. She seemed more motivated and enthused, like she was joining forces with him to slay a common enemy. But spiky resolve aside, Georgie’s good opinion of him would change, eventually. Oliver was sure of it.

Setting down his pop, he cleared his throat. “To be honest, I’m baffled by how poorly things have gone so far. I thought the subject matter would automatically draw the students in. They usually love mysterious and macabre things, right? You can’t get more enigmatic than mummies and bloody pyramids.”

“Yeah, but a lot of schools rely on textbooks, which offer a boring perspective,” said Georgie. “If the students are lucky, they might find some intriguing photographs or illustrations amidst the endless paragraphs of text, but even then they still might come away thinking ‘What’s all this gotta do with me?’ It’s hardly surprising some appear completely disinterested when they visit the museum.”

A glimmer of feisty determination sparkled in her eyes. “But that’s where we come in! That’s where we help them see history as something fun and meaningful and show how these events still impact them today.”

Oliver pressed pen to paper, eagerly awaiting Georgie’s direction and further insight.

“But…” she paused.

He glanced up.

“I won’t lie. Capturing their attention can be a tall order,” said Georgie. “This generation has grown up with music videos and Walkmans—they have a lot of distractions. It can be tough to break through the noise.” She plucked her wine glass of ginger ale from Oliver’s desk and took a succession of sips.

“How do you overcome that?”

“Active participation. There’s nothing like it for creating engagement and eager learners.”

“Active?” Oliver rubbed his jaw. “In what way? How do you incorporate it into your lessons?”

“I let my students do their own historical research, but we try to make it personal. For example, if one of their family members lived through a war or the Great Depression and is willing to talk about their experiences, they’ll interview them and present their findings to the class.”

“That’s brilliant! Examining history from a familial perspective,” said Oliver. “But what happens if they don’t have that one degree of separation?”

“They’ll research school alumni who served our country.” She leaned forward, returning her glass to the desk. “They start with the names listed on the war memorial plaques in our school and do a deep dive into old yearbooks and newspapers, piecing together facts about their lives. Maybe they were on the school’s football team or worked part-time at a local bakery. My students soon realize they’re more personally connected to world events than they thought.”

“By playing detective,” said Oliver.

Georgie nodded. “Our pen pal program with Canadian war veterans has a similar effect. A few vets have even visited, bringing priceless treasures to show my students.” She cracked a smile. “To see the awe on a teenager’s face when they’re studying a veteran’s regimental badge or reading their tattered letters from the home front. They’re holding actual history in their hands and soaking up so much knowledge. It’s powerful. But the biggest eye-opener is when the vets share how old they were when they volunteered to serve. Many were only a few years older than my students are now. That’s when the penny truly drops.” Shifting to the edge of her chair, she perused the selection of muffins, tapping her finger to her lips.

“You’re giving them so much more than a history lesson,” said Oliver.