Ruby remembered Mel’s suggestion that she act as if everything was exciting. “That’s a great idea, Mel.”
“Including Mrs Denzie?” Michael asked carefully and a little worriedly.
“Of course.” Ruby looked around the group. “And, as there are more girls than boys, maybe she can help the lads out?”
The boys all cheered, which made Ruby laugh with relief, although Mrs Denzie seemed less than thrilled with the idea of wearing a name badge… or maybe it was the thought of collecting earth worms. Ruby sniggered—inwardly.
Ruby asked Mel to go to her office and grab some labels, and on her return, they all made their own name badges and stuck them to their coats. Ruby was awed by the array of names. What a mixture. I’d never have seen such a collection when I was at school. Everyone was called David or Ann; Ruby was about the most unique name there was.
Thirty trowels and sixty gloves were handed out. Ruby was pleased to see some of the boys taking the more ‘girly’ gloves, and some of the girls taking some gloves with fewer pink flowers on them. I wish my childhood had been so free of gender stereotypes. She thought back to her mother, who had insisted she wore pretty dresses, played with dolls, and the little wooden kitchen her grandfather had fashioned for her.
Mrs Denzie approached a boy with ‘Frank’ on his badge. “Perhaps a blue pair?” Lines appeared either side of her nose.
Ruby smiled. “You can have whatever gloves you like,” she reassured him.
Frank considered his flowery gloves, his eyebrows furrowed. “My mum has some like these. I like these.” His hopeful expression faltered as he looked at Mrs Denzie.
“Try the blue ones.” Her tone was soft, but the look in her eyes made Ruby think of a rhinoceros about to charge.
Frank looked from Ruby to Mrs Denzie, confusion coming off him in waves. “I…”
“Remember what I said last week? When you grazed your knee?”
Pink tinged his chubby cheeks. “That I should be a man.” He looked at his wellies.
“That’s right.” Mrs Denzie clasped her hands. “And would flowery gloves make you look like a man?”
He toed the ground, let out a huge sigh, and then shook his head.
“Okay, then.”
Frank took the blue gloves she offered and slunk away.
Mrs Denzie looked very pleased with herself. The pinching around her lips had subsided.
Spoke too soon. It seems as if some people still think gender roles are non-negotiable.
The boys started work on the patch in front of the greenhouse, and the girls began in the one next to it. They knelt side by side on the grassy paths bisecting the earthy rectangles and chatted as they searched for earth worms, everyone now apparently happy that worms did not bite.
Michael held up a particularly large worm, and everyone cheered his worm-catching prowess. Mel led the applause, and Michael beamed at her, obviously pleased as punch that he was being rewarded.
As the afternoon went on, Ruby watched Mel interact with the children. She was so complimentary and so relaxed, and Ruby shivered with delight at the look of pleasure on Mel’s face. Her eyes shone with affection and excitement each time a child found a worm. It didn’t seem fake or forced, either. Mel genuinely appeared to be having a fabulous time.
When Mel looked up at her and caught her eye, a smear of mud on her cheek, Ruby could do nothing but smile back at her. She resisted the urge to go over and rub the mud from her face; that would be inappropriate. The kids were here to learn and have fun, not watch her flirt with her co-facilitator. My friend. No need to flirt, even when they’re not here.
She’d been busy getting the garden ready for the kids and hadn’t had time to check the university policies. She was still unsure about teacher-student relationships and the rules surrounding them. She didn’t want to do anything that would cause a problem for them, or, goodness forbid, get her fired. Mel didn’t deserve the drama, especially as she was being so kind as to help her with the group.
Friends is good. I shouldn’t complain. After another glance over at Mel, she settled back into the group, kneeling beside Michael, who had found another huge worm and was wiggling it about in Frank’s face.
Frank was laughing but very obviously uncomfortably at either the attention from the assertive Michael, or the fact that there was a squirming, dirty worm a centimetre from his nose. Ruby tapped Michael’s hand and kept her eyes gentle while sending him a look she hoped would resolve the situation.
Michael grinned and dropped his hand, nodding placidly at Ruby. Ruby took a chance and gave him a thumbs up. Both boys grinned and continued with their worm-hunting pursuits. They’re not so scary after all. And not one of them has a snotty nose.
Mrs Denzie had donned a pair of her own gardening gloves; a Cath Kidson pair, if Ruby wasn’t mistaken. An expensive, designer brand that most people refused to use for fear of dirtying them. She wore smart wellies, also of an expensive brand, and picked at the earth as if it might bite her, let alone the worms. She didn’t even touch the trowel one of the boys offered to share with her. Her face remained drawn, pinched… citric, sculpted.
Once all the worms had been found, at least according to the children, Ruby stood up and winced as her knees cracked. “You’ve all done so well, guys. Give each other a pat on the back.”
This, inevitably, turned out to be a terrible idea. Every child, still wearing mud-sodden gloves, and not caring about the dirt, slapped each other’s backs and shoulders as the celebration turned into a mini-slapping war. Squeals of laughter from the girl’s side only emphasised the issue. Mrs Denzie’s mouth nearly disappeared into a small point in the middle of her face.
Ruby ignored her while trying to hide her amusement. “Okay, let’s settle down so we can go on to our next task.” She gave them time to turn back to her and begin paying attention again. “Thank you. Now, I’m going to split you up into four teams. They’ll all be named after a fruit or vegetable, something we’re going to grow in the garden.”
A tremor of excitement went through the group at the mention of their planned activities, and Ruby was surprised.
“I’m just going to have a word with your teacher, so if you could do me a favour and make sure the earth is flat on the places you’ve been working, that’d be great.”
The kids all bent down again and started pattering their trowels into the soil in front of them.
Ruby held a hand out and led Mrs Denzie over to one side, away from ear shot of the kids. Mel joined them. “Now, I just wanted to make sure that if I put the kids into groups there won’t be any disagreements.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Mrs Denzie asked, her tone disgusted.
Ruby blinked, unused to other adults treating her in such a way. Especially another teacher—where’s the professionalism? What is her problem? “Um… so do all the kids get on? There’ve been no big squabbles recently?”
“We plan on mixing them up a bit,” Mel interjected. “Make sure they learn to communicate with those who aren’t their friends.” She put a hand against Ruby’s shoulder blades and rubbed.
A shiver ran through Ruby at the touch, and she couldn’t help but smile affectionately at her friend. Mel returned the smile.
“I’m sure my class will behave impeccably, whatever groups you put them in.”
“Are you sure?” Ruby asked.
“Completely.”
“Good.” Ruby stepped away and felt the loss of Mel’s hand on her back. She tried to ignore it. She’s just being supportive. No need to go all drooling teenager over her. Mel still had the smear of mud on her face. Oh blimey. Okay, focus on the task at hand.
Ruby gave each child the name of either tomato, pepper, potato, or onion. Then she asked them to stand in the groups they had been given. She made sure there was a good mix of gender, race, and confidence in each group, j
ust as she and Mel had discussed in previous weeks. “The name of your group is the name of the thing you will be growing. How does that sound?”
All the kids cheered, and their enthusiasm affected her deeply. She couldn’t help cheering with them. What is going on with me? Why am I enjoying this so much?
“Potatoes and Onions, you get to have a little break for a minute while Tomatoes and Peppers will be setting up pots ready for next week. I hope you have your pot-filling skills at the ready?”
As per their pre-agreed plan, Mel took the Peppers and Ruby took the Tomatoes. The Potato and Onion groups sat on the grass across the area, and Mrs Denzie handed out the squash and biscuits that Ruby had provided for them. Each child filled two pots full of compost, which made thirty pots all together. Michael—a tomato—intently pressed down his compost, then attempted to juggle with the pots. Mel instructed him to clear up the mess through tears of laughter at his forlorn expression. He’s one to keep an eye on, but not in a negative way. Mel watched him with interest as he sensibly swept the compost back into the pots with the blade of his hand.
Chelsea—a pepper—concentrated so hard on filling her pots that she ended up with the neatest two out of the whole class. Mel shook her hand seriously and rained praise on the blonde girl. Obviously unused to such achievement, Chelsea’s grin appeared permanently fixed on her face for the rest of the afternoon.
Each child carried their pots into the greenhouse and labelled them with their name. Then the groups swapped over, and Tomato and Pepper groups sat on the grass, enjoying a drink and a snack.
“Who knows where potatoes come from?” Ruby asked. Mel marvelled at how her brown hair took on golden tones in the sun.
A small girl, whose badge said Lauren, wiggled as she raised her hand. “Asda.”
Everyone chuckled, and Mel wasn’t sure whether Lauren was joking or serious.
“That’s right. But what about before that? Where do they grow?”
Frank put up one chubby hand. “In the ground.”
“Good, Frank. Yes, they do. And does anyone know which bit of the potato plant we eat?” A sea of confused faces made Ruby smile. “We actually eat the root.”
“Isn’t that the bottom bit?” a girl with black sleek hair and a severely cut fringe piped up. Her name badge read: Becca.
“It is the bottom bit, clever girl.” Ruby winced, perhaps at the phrase she’d used, but then seemed to realise these were not young adults they were teaching. It was okay to use the term “good girl” or “good boy” when praising them. “The root of a plant lives beneath the soil and pulls up water and nutrients for the plant to feed it. Who knows what else plants need to make energy?”
A chorus of “Sunlight!” rang through the garden.
“Very good. You guys really know your stuff.”
Mel stepped forwards. “So, what about onions? Where do they grow?”
“In a tree?” Frank asked.
“Good try, but not quite.” Mel nodded kindly at him.
Frank deflated in disappointment, but she made a point of continuing to smile at him and he relented, looking back at her with shy eyes.
“They grow underground too, like the potatoes. Their roots dangle from the bottom, like a little beard.”
The group giggled, and Mel waited until they calmed to continue.
“The leaves grow out of the top of the onion. Has anyone got daffodils in their garden at home?”
Becca piped up. “We have loads. Mum always puts about a… a hundred in every year.”
“And what do they grow from, Becca?”
“From bulbs. She gets them from the garden centre.”
Mel turned back to the group. “The bulbs that daffodils grow from are very similar to onions. But please don’t eat daffodil bulbs; they don’t taste very nice.”
“Neither do onions,” Becca said as she screwed up her face. A titter ran through the group.
“So, we’re going to plant the onions and potatoes in this bed just here.” Mel indicated the bed the girls had been searching through for earthworms. “And we’ll do that next week. But first, we need to add some nutrients to the soil. Who’s up for that?”
A consensus of cheers ran through the group. Mel and Ruby exchanged a grin.
Mel stepped back, and Ruby explained how to take a handful of feed and scatter it over the bed. The children each took a handful and, with a whole host of different techniques and dramatic flares, deposited it onto the soil. Then they took their little trowels and dug in the feed.
“Make sure it’s all mixed in, like you would when you make a cake.”
After their jobs were done, the kids hung up their gloves and trowels and went to the outside tap to wash their hands. Mel ran her hands under the tap too and watched the bubbles from the hand-wash they were required to use—infection-control regulations—disappear down the drain.
Before she could push her sleeves back down, Chelsea came up to her and fingered the rubber bands around her wrist. The kids were clean and gathered all around her, biscuits in their little hands—a reward for their hard work. “What’s this, Miss?” Chelsea asked.
“You don’t have to call me ‘Miss’, I’m not a teacher. My name’s Mel.” Mel tapped the name badge that was half hanging off her coat and looking a little worse for wear.
“Okay. Mel. What’s that?”
“It’s a charity band.”
Chelsea’s little fingers were poking at the rainbow band. “What does it mean?”
Mel smiled at her before taking it off and holding it out so she could look at it more closely. “It’s a Gay Pride band. It shows my support for Gay Pride.”
Chelsea’s face coloured, and she looked over at Mrs Denzie, who appeared to be listening, her mouth pinched into a small hole again. Chelsea snapped her mouth closed and looked at her feet.
“It’s okay if you want to ask questions,” Mel encouraged. These kids need to feel comfortable with me, with every bit of me.
Mel heard Ruby gathering a few discarded pots into the greenhouse behind her. Then footsteps as she approached the group.
“So… are you gay, then?” Chelsea asked, one finger in her mouth as she chewed on the side of it.
“I am, yes,” Mel stated, but forced her expression to remain casual and pleasant.
“That’s cool,” Michael said, which caused the rest of the group to laugh, hesitantly.
“Why is it cool?” Mel asked, intrigued.
Ruby shifted about on the concrete, looking over at the path towards the university door. Is she uncomfortable with this? Does she think I’m going to out her?
“My uncle’s gay. And his flat’s well wicked.” Michael grinned and displayed a gap in his front teeth where he was waiting for one to grow. “His boyfriend’s well cool too. He’s an Olympic runner.”
“Is he?” Mel asked, chuckling.
“No, he isn’t,” another boy said. “He works in a bank.”
“Yeah well,” Michael countered, his brow furrowed in defence. “He might be… in a few months. Uncle Gary says he’s well on the way.”
“He does sound cool,” Mel said. “But it just sounds like he’s cool because of who he is, rather than because he’s gay. What d’you think?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Michael seemed happier with this explanation.
“Does anyone else have any more questions?” Mel asked.
Mrs Denzie bustled over and elbowed her way past her children, who parted the way for her, their expressions uncomfortable again. “I think it’s time to go. The bus will be waiting.”
Mel inwardly rolled her eyes. “It’s been such a nice day, guys,” she said, pushing a happy expression onto her face despite her annoyance at the teacher’s interruption.
“What a lot we’ve got done.” Ruby seemed to have gathered herself and was smiling
again.
Mel lifted a hand to squeeze her shoulder but dropped it when Ruby stepped away, out of reach.
The kids all gathered their stuff together and waited by the picnic benches. Mrs Denzie strode over to Mel and Ruby, who had begun tidying the big bags of compost into the shed. She lowered her head and her voice, so that the children couldn’t hear her words. “The children are here to learn about plants and growing vegetables. Not about the gay lifestyle. They’re far too young for that sort of thing. If you could keep your relationship out of this situation, that would be grand.” Her tone was bitter.
Mel stepped back and blinked. “Oh. Well, I don’t think we did anything—”
“I think the way you were… touching. And… everything. My class does not need to see that.” Mrs Denzie’s mouth completely disappeared, until she opened it again to speak. “And inviting the children to ask questions about you… about your sexuality. That is absolutely unacceptable.”
Ruby stood next to Mel, seemingly struck dumb by Mrs Denzie’s tirade.
“If kids ask me about myself, especially if they ask whether I’m gay, I’m not going to lie. Kids are curious, and the more we’re honest and open with them, the less they’ll grow up worried about their own sexuality.” Mel wanted to reach out and touch Ruby, to let her know it was okay, and that she’d had this discussion before. I’ve had this discussion a few times, actually. There are a lot of kids in my neighbourhood, and they don’t shy away from talking to me. “Surely we’re on the same page here?” I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want a loving world that isn’t full of bigots and hateful people.
“We shall have to agree to disagree,” Mrs Denzie replied. “But I do not wish to see you mauling one another in front of the children again, do you hear me?”
Mel sighed. “Fine. Not that it’s any of your business, Mrs Denzie, but we’re just friends. Ruby isn’t my girlfriend. Just a friend.” She looked to Ruby for clarification.
“That’s right,” seemed to be all Ruby could manage.
“I saw you,” Mrs Denzie said, her eyes narrowing further. “You were touching her.”
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