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Georgie glanced up. “That’s my goal. Another great teaching method is role playing.” Her hand hovered over the half-dozen then darted to the back of the box, choosing a chocolate chip muffin.

“Oh, wait! I—” Shifting sideways, Oliver dove eagerly into a plastic bag on the floor.

Georgie froze, her eyes widening as she peered over the desk. “You okay?”

He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t know which flavour you liked, so I, uh”—straightening up, he hoisted two additional gabled boxes into the air—“I bought every flavour they had.”

Georgie’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

Oliver rested the boxes on top of his notes and opened both, lifting the end closest to him so she could see all twelve muffins. “There’s cornmeal, chocolate fudge, butterscotch pecan, banana walnut, piña colada, and a few others. Extra chocolate chip, too.”

Blinking into a soft smile, a whispered “Wow” escaped Georgie’s lips. “You did buy them all!” She glanced at the chocolate chip muffin in her hand cradled in a serviette. “I’m good for now, but thanks.” She eased back into her chair. “This is so kind of you.”

Too much? Did I just make her physically retreat? Mortification burned in Oliver’s chest as he gestured to his crowded desk. “Well, I-I’ll just move these out of the way.”

“Not too far, though!” Georgie scrunched her nose. “Don’t tell anyone, but…” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I usually eat two!”

Her amiable response made him pause. Was Georgie telling the truth? Or had she sensed his discomfort and her ‘secret’ was a kind attempt to put him at ease?

Oliver hadn’t a clue but was so grateful that he played along, mimicking a zip of his lips as he relocated two of the three boxes to the only clear surface within reach, the top of his small file cabinet. “Sorry, you were saying—role playing is great for engagement?”

“Yes!” Her gaze followed him as he picked up his pen. “It’s my favourite teaching method. We make costumes, play music, try foods from the period being studied. Basically, I lean into anything that puts my students in the shoes of those who lived in the past.” Georgie tore the crunchy square cap off the chocolate-speckled muffin. “I’ve found it’s the best technique to spark an emotional response and get them thinking.” She took a large bite. One, two chews in, and a closed-mouth smile played on her lips.

“By making learning fun and relatable,” said Oliver.

Georgie shielded her full mouth with her free hand. “Exactly.”

Oliver jotted down role playing and relatable along with a few notes while she enjoyed the muffin. He could’ve been wrong, but Georgie seemed like she was finally relaxing. The glimpses at her watch had stopped and she didn’t look like she wanted to be somewhere else.

“Obviously, some of these ideas wouldn’t work during a brief museum trip,” she clarified, “but we’ll come up with similar participatory things that’ll forge a connection for visiting students. Sometimes all it takes is the smallest wisp of inspiration. You can see it in their eyes, their minds lighting up!”

“Like your student noticing Antjef’s red hair,” said Oliver.

Georgie nodded. “You know, she’s still talking about it! How fabulous is that?” She tore a chunk free from the baked good and popped it in her mouth.

Warmth swelled in Oliver’s chest. Georgie’s enthusiasm was as catchy as the “Obsession” song featured in the opening credits of FashionTelevision. For the first time in weeks, renewed fervour and hope coursed through his veins.

He broke into a smile. “Thanks, Georgie. This has been incredibly helpful and inspiring. You’ve given me plenty to think about.”

She licked chocolate off her thumb. “You know, there’s something you could do immediately.”

“Name it.”

“Make your guides less stuffy, more personable. Lose the ties and urge them to find common ground with the students to break the ice. I’d get them talking about last night’s hockey or baseball game or a recent movie they’ve seen. I know it’s only small talk, but when it’s focused on something the teens enjoy, it helps gain their trust and attention. Makes them feel less intimidated and more open to actually listening and engaging. And when there are no wrong answers, it’s a win-win for everyone.”

True, especially when Oliver wasn’t responsible for the small talk. “That’s an easy fix. Thanks.” He put down his pen. “I wish I had teachers like you growing up. Why’d you choose history?”

“I’ve always loved learning about people and places, and how we fit into the grand scheme of things.”

“Same with me,” said Oliver. “It’s important to know where we came from.”

Georgie nodded. “And how to learn from mistakes of the past so we can hopefully avoid repeating them. But the main reason is because my dad taught history, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

“He must be so proud.” Oliver picked up his glass, a twinge of envy pinching his gut. “Like father, like daughter.”

Georgie smiled and looked away, tearing off another chocolate chip-stippled chunk as her gaze meandered, skimming the books and the brown-tipped leaves of the spider plant languishing on his bookshelf. She glanced back again. “How do you like Toronto so far?”

“It’s great. A lot busier than I expected.”