“Some of us still prefer the color and texture of books,” I said.
Angelina pulled a laptop computer from her backpack that carried a price tag most students, let alone adults, could ill afford.
“I thought EMF emissions from electronics and other equipment made you guys uncomfortable,” I said. My reward? A where-do-you-get-this-stuff stare. Was my research a bunch of New Age mumbo jumbo, or had these kids built up a resistance to such irritants? Anyway, electronics were here to stay. Might as well use them.
“Electronics interfere with intuition,” Luke said. “They block alpha, theta, and delta brain waves.”
“Brilliance interferes with intuition,” Codi said, tapping her temple. “Paralysis by analysis.” She eyed the encyclopedias collecting dust on the bookshelves. “You want us to look up our favorite animal, right, Ms. Veil?”
“Or a plant or natural object you’re interested in.”
“Hey, Codi, let’s work as a team,” Luke said, “the old-fashioned way. You know, challenge our regressed interpersonal skills.”
She gave him the finger. I pretended not to notice—non-interference, benign neglect—and pulled my treasured stone mouse from the leather pouch cinched at my waist. “This is one of my animal totems. Someone special gave it to me. Who received it from someone special, who” —I wiped my eyes, which had started to tear— “found it someplace special.” My words came out shaky, making it hard to go on. “I then gave the totem to someone I loved, and he gave it to someone he loved and, after she died, the totem came back to me.”
The room became quiet. Even the wind seemed to subside. Only the clock persisted in its rhythmic ticking. I closed my eyes and swallowed what tasted like salt in the back of my mouth. Don’t leave me, Maya. Please, Maya, don’t leave me now.
Someone took my hand. It was Shawn “Are you okay?”
“Yes, hon.” I forced my thoughts back to the present. Get real. Maya’s dead.
Six students, plus the one now holding my hand, waited for me to continue. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.”
Chapter Nineteen
ALL WEEKEND I WORRIED that I’d revealed too much of myself to the kids and that maybe they hadn’t been ready for my lesson about totems. What if they thought I was pushing some kind of pagan superstition, as Veronica had suggested, when my sole purpose had been to help them adopt a personal spiritual helper; a symbol to capture their imagination, aid them in self-discovery, help them cope? Admittedly, the lesson leaned toward the mystical, but so did music, art, and poetry, all bridges between the earthy stuff around us and the spiritual stuff inside. These Indigos, with their developed sixth sense, already walked between worlds. Why not give them a few more tools for the journey? On the other hand, they were smart, way ahead of me. Maybe it was their parents I should worry about. What if they objected, called the school, insist I be fired? I dreamed of an angry mob on a witch-hunt—me burning at the stake.
What I hadn’t expected, though, were the rumors flying about campus when I got back to school. This I discovered from an unlikely source soon after my arrival. It was the short kid I’d likened to a terrier pup during my brief stint subbing in Ms. Goldsberry’s remedial class. He stood waiting in the corridor outside my classroom door. I’d been disappointed on finding he wasn’t an Indigo, though looking at him now, I couldn’t fathom what differentiated him from my kids. He was smart and perceptive. Plus, I liked him.
“I heard about your class,” Brad said, in that straightforward manner of his, “about you running some kind of weird experiments.”
It bothered me to hear this from a kid I felt partial to. I reminded myself that he wasn’t being malicious, only repeating what he’d heard. I hesitated before responding, my mind in knots. Was this what Jason meant when he’d asked if our after-school class would set them apart? If so, the true test was about to begin. Not only for me, but for my students as well.
“There’s one way to find out,” I said, forcing a smile.
Brad tilted his head and squinted at me as if I were too bright for his eyes.
“Why don’t you come visit our class sometime?”
The way he stared at me, you’d think I was Rod Serling delivering his prelude to the Twilight Zone. There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man.
His chest expanded. “Me?”
I bit my lip, suppressing the urge to hug him, Brave Puppy, all wiggles and joy and innocence. “You were the first student to catch my attention while subbing in Ms. Goldsberry’s class, which makes you special. To me, anyway.”
“When?” he asked.
“As soon as you get permission.”
“I’ll call my mom.”
“You’ll need to ask Dr. Matt first.”
“She heard about your class, too.”
Already? I’d been here less than two weeks. “From you, I presume.”
He yanked the straps to his backpack and balanced the heavy burden between his shoulders.
“So why not ask her to come along?” What the hell. Invite the critics in.
“Mr. Lacoste said your class is secretive and highly controversial.”
Darn that man. Since when did teachers talk about other teachers with their students? Or had Brad overheard him discussing me with another faculty member? Either scenario spelled trouble. Best way to stop a rumor was to nip it in the bud.
I checked my watch; time to get moving. I had materials to prepare before the students arrived at three. We were doing a mask-making session today, a way for the students to explore various aspects of themselves. I’d facilitated with masks as art therapy before, at the alcohol rehab center in Pacific Grove where Maya had worked. And I’d learned a thing or two about how we hide from the world. “See ya, Brad. Gotta go.”
Brad pulled a cell phone from the cargo pocket of his jeans. “Later, Ms. Veil.”
***
“But it isn’t even Halloween,” Luke said, peering at me through his heavy-rimmed glasses. This surprised me. I would have thought he’d come up with some line of trivia about the purpose and meaning of masks instead of questioning the timing of my lesson.
“Come on, Luke,” I said from my usual spot in front of the classroom at the introduction of a new lesson. Later, depending on the assigned tasks, I would take up a less conspicuous location—accessible, but unobtrusive, that fine balance between control and neglect. “There’s more to masks than costumes at Halloween.”
He took his time to answer, left hand cupped over his chin, fingers scratching his cheek. “They’re used for protection, like gas masks and catcher’s masks.”
“Go on.” He was doing a fine job of initiating the discussion, in a reluctant way.
“They’re ceremonial.”
“We wear masks every day, Ms. Veil,” Shawn said, “to hide behind.”
Dr. Matt had shared that Shawn could fade into the background to the point where you didn’t even know he was there. How could anyone ignore this child, with his kind Buddha face and thick black hair?
I got the sudden impression that someone was probing my mind.
Shawn?
He looked down at his hands.
“Makeup can be a mask,” Codi said, her voice pitched low.
“You should know,” Jason said from his seat to her right.
Codi gave him her signature glare, intensified by the Cleopatra liner above and below her eyes.
“They’re all for protection, one way or another” —Luke was warming to the subject now that he had an audience— “except when used for plays or in ritual. I saw on PBS once how in West Africa masks are used to communicate with spirits.”
“Some people use research for protection, Luke,” Codi said.
“So, what are you getting at, Ms. V?” Jason asked.
I crossed my arms, giving him time to figure out the answer without being told.
“Let me guess…” He watched me with bird-dog stil
lness. “Something about masks being casts of our inner selves… Ha, don’t tell me…”
“Jason, you’re such a turd,” Codi said.
“Thought equals form,” he said.
All expression disappeared from Codi’s face as if she feared what might reveal itself there. “Are you saying our inner selves show up on our faces?”
And the clothes you wear, I wanted to say but held back. That she found comfort in cropped T-shirts and low-slung jeans during the chill of late winter, so be it. For me, comfort consisted of slacks and blazers; for Veronica, black leather and animal prints; for Maya, dear Maya, raggedy jeans and a brown bomber jacket.
“That means homely people can look beautiful and beautiful people can look homely, depending on their thoughts,” Angelina said, studying her classmates one by one. Her mention of sickness and dying during last week’s discussion about choice had triggered my concern. Was she ill? After school, I would make it my number one priority to find out.
“Our faces include twenty-three surface landmarks,” Luke said, “and have twenty-eight bones.”
I thought of the skull medallion dangling from Codi’s neck and the equally morbid skull ring on her finger, certain this information hadn’t crossed her mind. My guess was that to her the skull symbolized something poles apart from the role it played in facial expressions.
“Jeez, Luke, where do you come up with this stuff?” Jason asked.
“The Internet. Six muscles have to cooperate to move our eyeballs.”
“The face is mighty,” Codi said, using her said muscles to perform an eye roll. “So, are we going to make masks today or what?” She opened her compact, checked her makeup, seemed satisfied, and looked up for my answer.
“That’s the plan, though they won’t be fancy. We’re just using construction paper.”
I thought back to the tables at the Guidepost alcoholic recovery center where Maya had led a group of men and women in making masks. She’d worked the room like a butterfly, settling here and there, spreading the pollen of inspiration and enthusiasm before moving on. She clapped when she saw the two masks I’d made. “Witches. One for you and one for me.”
“Not just witches, but healers,” I said.
She picked up a mask and held it to her face. “And we’ll look exactly alike.”
“Externally, yes.” We would never be alike within. I could never give of myself the way Maya did. She was too good to be true, too good for this world.
“Ms. Veil,” Ethan said. “Ummm, Mssss. Veil.”
I blinked, reluctant to leave my sister behind.
Ethan eyed me with what appeared to be suspicion. “What kind of masks?”
His question put me on edge. I didn’t look forward to another night worrying about all the ramifications of my lesson. “How about a mask of the totem you researched yesterday?” He’d been okay with the totem exercise, actually seemed to enjoy it. But, as I was beginning to suspect, his feelings were as mercurial as the weather.
“I have something else in mind,” Jason said.
About to respond, I heard a knock on the door. Then in walked Brad and a woman I assumed to be his mother. “Hey, Ms. Veil,” he said, waving both hands. “Hey class.”
“What’s he doing here?” Luke asked, red-faced.
I hadn’t expected Brad and his mother so soon. How had they gotten Dr. Matt’s permission this fast? “I invited him. And he invited his mother, as you did last week.”
“Oh,” Luke said, surrounded by a brownish yellow glow.
Brad seemed oblivious to Luke’s strained reception. His mother, however, appeared less at ease. “Brad said it would be okay…” Although her son reached no higher than four-foot-ten, she only topped him by a few inches. Her intelligent brown eyes pleaded for acceptance. Not for herself, but for her son.
I pulled up two chairs. “We were about to do a mask project. Want to join us?”
“Cool,” Brad said. “And it isn’t even Halloween.”
I extended my hand to Brad’s mother. “I’m Marjorie.”
“Vicki,” she said, her hand moist and trembling. “Let me know how I can help.”
***
Dr. Matt was not pleased with me.
I’d arrived at his office after class to ask if there was anything about Angelina’s health I should be privy to, but before I could raise my question, he’d started in. “I wish you hadn’t invited outside guests into your classroom at this early stage of the game.”
Game? Apparently, Brad and his mother hadn’t asked his permission before their visit which, in my opinion, was no big deal. I defended myself the best I could, with comments like, “They enjoyed themselves,” and “Brad’s mother thanked me for setting the rumors straight,” but Dr. Matt wasn’t having it. He tapped his pen on the desk. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“The problem is that Mrs. Johnson came to see me after leaving your classroom. In fact, you just missed her.”
I nodded, thinking, So?
“She asked why a course such as yours wasn’t being extended to all needy students at West Coast Middle School. She also wanted a list of prerequisites for admittance.”
Both legitimate requests. I’d had similar ones myself. I eased forward in my chair and placed my hands on the edge of his desk, suddenly upset with him for being upset with me. Then one of my class rules hit me with the force of a slap: What upsets you tells a lot about you. “You knew questions like this would surface, so why the surprise?”
His former optimism and humor had vanished, and my attitude wasn’t bringing them back. “You may have opened a can of worms, Ms. Veil.”
Great, now he was calling me Ms. Veil. “I was trying to stop the rumors about me running weird experiments in the classroom. Which would never have surfaced with a little advance planning.” I caught myself—Don’t condemn or criticize—and softened my tone. “You can’t keep what’s going on here a secret, Dr. Matt. Call it Montessori education if you like or transformative learning, but call it something people will understand.” Maybe First Light hadn’t been such a good moniker after all, even if the suggestion had come from the beyond. “Sure, you might want to omit the part about the Indigos’ psychic abilities, but hopefully, someday, you can share that information, too, without fear that people will misunderstand or abuse. If you don’t believe in what we’re doing, your disbelief will appear to the jury of our peers and this trial class will become your disbelief.” I was relying on Emerson again, but darn it, last time we met, Dr. Matt seemed to thrive on aphorisms, so it was one way to communicate with him at least. “Be the class, don’t just talk about it.”
“The rumors I can deal with, but not demands for other students to enter the class.”
Okay, so Emerson wasn’t working; maybe Nietzsche or Valery next time. Anyway, I found it hard to believe that many parents, let alone students, would demand entry to a class that involved extra hours after school and, as Jason had put it, set students apart. As far as I knew, only Brad’s mother had asked thus far, and as my students had made clear on our first day, even they weren’t thrilled about being included. “Ignorance breeds fear, Dr. Matt, and, believe me, fear breeds its own can of worms.”
He dropped his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair, but made no comment.
What had brought about this change in him? It felt as if I were doing a free fall without a parachute. Handle change with grace and ease. “If you fold after only a few questions from a woman with a legitimate cause, there’s no chance for this class.” Know that flaws and mistakes are part of the grand scheme of things. “I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished so far. Why don’t you ask the kids what they think?”
“I have.”
Blood surged to my face and pumped in my ears. What had the kids told him about me? Be happy with yourself and consider yourself creative. “And?”
“Why don’t you ask them?”
“Okay,” I said, standing.
Embrace criticism as an opportunity to learn and grow. “And afterwards, I’d appreciate it if you let me know what you expect of me. Because, to be quite honest, I don’t have a clue.”
No complaining.
So much for class rules. I’d flunked them all.
Be grateful. Ha!
After exiting Dr. Matt’s office, I realized I’d forgotten to ask about Angelina’s health. Going back was the last thing I wanted to do, but for Angelina I’d do it. I re-entered without knocking. A mistake. Dr. Matt was talking on the phone with his back to me. “She just started, Charles. Give her time.”
I backed out the door.
“She came highly recommended. No need for concern.”
Questions about Angelina would have to wait, until I found out what my students were saying about me.
Chapter Twenty
AS SOON AS JASON, King of Hearts, took a seat at his table the next afternoon, I questioned him, not bothering to seek the privacy of a separate room. If the other students listened in, so be it. All would come out in the wash, anyway. I tried to keep my expression neutral, my voice steady. “What did you tell Dr. Matt about me?”
He dropped his backpack to the floor and rummaged inside. “Damn. I could’ve sworn I put it in here last period.”
I folded my arms and waited.
He halted his search and looked up as though surprised I was still standing there. “Uh? Oh. I told him your pep talks were nice.” He grinned then mimicked, “‘Know that flaws and mistakes are part of the grand scheme of things.’”
Pep talks?
“And that we like you,” he added before holding up his pencil. “Found it.” His air of triumph turned to one of concern when he saw the expression on my face. “It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong, Ms. V.” He glanced at Shawn, who gave him two thumbs up. “Just that there’s a lot going on here you don’t know about.”
“It takes time,” I said. “And that’s good, because there are many paths—”
Jason held up his hand. “You aren’t listening, Ms. V.”
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