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“Ms. Pickett,” said Aubrey after a yawn, “when I learned math last year in pre-kindergarten summer enrichment we did it with pencil and paper.”
“I bet you did.” Esme put the last of the sleeping mats back into the cubby. “But was it fun?”
The little girl scrunched up her nose as though she didn’t understand the meaning of the three letter word.
“Physical education stimulates the brain,” Esme said. “We’re going to practice our numbers while moving our bodies to get our whole person involved in the lesson.”
This explanation passed the girl’s smell test, and Aubrey nodded in approval.
“All right class, the number of the day is five. If I say or show you a number greater than five, you will stand up. If I say or show you a number less than five, you will sit down. Who’s ready?”
There was a loud chorus of meeeees.
“Four,” Esme called out. The entire class sat down.
She held up a sign with the number seven on it. Everyone stood back up.
“Three plus four,” Esme said.
Aubrey and Tracey stayed standing. A few other kids wobbled. Carla Barrow sat down. The stragglers looked between Aubrey and Carla and remained standing.
“Hold up three fingers on one hand,” Esme said to Carla. The little girl did as she was instructed. “Now hold up four fingers on the other hand.”
“Neither is bigger than five,” Carla announced triumphantly.
“True, but I said plus. Count all of your fingers.”
Carla did. When she got to the fingers on the second hand, her lips began to quiver. “I got it wrong?”
“Yes, you did sweetheart. But now you’ll know better for the next time. You just learned a lesson, and that’s what school is all about.”
Carla opened her eyes wide. Instead of the light of understanding Esme was hoping for, her tear ducts opened and spilled. A sorrowful moan escaped her lips.
Esme took a deep breath. As a compassionate person, she wanted to console the girl. But at the same time, she knew there was another lesson to be had in not always being right, not always winning, not having everyone receive a medal for participation.
“Not everyone wins. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I expect you to do your best. If you always do your best, even if you don’t get it right, you’ll always make someone proud, especially me.”
It was the perfect Hallmark moment. Carla’s tears dried up, but there was still no aha moment. “I’m sure that’s wrong, Ms. Pickett.”
Esme sighed.
This was the generation where all children must receive birthday invites. On Valentine’s Day, parents were instructed to send cards to every kid in the class. These kids would know nothing of rejection or unrequited love. They would believe everyone they met would accept and love them equally.
They were all doomed.
“Actually, my father says the same thing to me. He’s a king, so I’m certain it’s right.”
They all turned to the door. What could only be described as a miniature fairy stood in the doorway. She was dressed in pale blue with patent leather shoes. She looked like she was ready for Easter on a fall day. Dark hair was tied into a perfect bun atop her oval-shaped head. There was lace on her dress that looked finer than anything Esme owned, and she wore a white cardigan overtop the ensemble. Bold choice for a five-year-old.
A number of adults stood behind her. One of them was the principal looking green beneath the gills as he peered into Esme’s room. The other adult was a dark haired man with a devastating grin and sparkling hazel eyes that were hauntingly familiar.
“Are you the princess?” asked Kurt.
“She can’t be the princess,” said Aubrey. “She’s not wearing a crown.”
“And she doesn’t have a sword to fight a dragon,” said Tracey.
“Anyone can wear a crown,” said the princess. “It’s your family that makes you noble.”
