The flickering light of fireflies danced on the horizon. Throughout her entire childhood fireflies had been the guardians of summer nights. The little beacons of light conjured memories of family and friends and even better weather. Thinking back to easier summers, Chloe continued inside. Walking through the door, she lobbed her backpack onto the floor, locked the door behind her, and settled in for the evening.
Once she sat on the couch, she allowed herself to start trying to process the phone call she’d gotten earlier in the day from Maryanne Pruzzi. It was simply an opportunity to substitute teach, nothing to get too thrilled over. Being a high school substitute was a far cry from a sustainable career. She didn’t even know if she would like it or, God help her, be good at it. Either way, there was no going back now. The nervous excitement she was feeling was better than the hollow nothingness that had preceded it.
She went to the closet to get her guitar. She had missed jamming while in grad school and was now trying to get back to it; it had been a fixture in her college days. Her fingers became reacquainted with the feel of the smooth neck in her hands, the vibration of the strings, and soon the chords began to resonate within her. Once she had played the rust off, she moved on to an Ed Sheeran favorite of hers. Playing from memory, she started to relax again. Good music, no matter how poorly she might play it, never failed to help her mellow out.
Unaware of how much time had passed, Chloe stood finally, unfolded her body, and stretched enthusiastically. Her shoulder sometimes ached after playing. And then there was the crunching in her knee. Her meniscus wouldn’t ever be the same from the damage inflicted over the course of her college career.
At six feet tall, Chloe was naturally athletic. Whereas Hannah, with her long blond hair and curves, presented as distinctly feminine, Chloe was a study in angles, lean muscle, and androgyny. Her toned arms and legs, the product of a workout routine she’d perfected in college, gave her the appearance that she had had when she was still playing, thin and muscular.
If only she were still playing. She’d never aspired to a career in basketball, but playing meant having a goal that was singular and simple—winning a game, winning a championship. Personal goals were much more difficult to discern and articulate. There wasn’t a clear-cut path to long-term “be happy” goals the way there was to improving on the court.
By the same token, winning championships did little in the way of fostering a rewarding and workable life. The last time she checked student loans couldn’t be paid off with layups and sweat. Her academic career had always been much more linear, undergrad, graduate school, select a lab and advisor, publish, then get a tenure-track position. Walking away from familiar, previously established protocols meant answering questions about herself that she wasn’t sure she was prepared for.
Rather than continuing down that rabbit hole, Chloe directed her attention to getting ready for her first subbing job. Truthfully, all she needed to do was prepare for a simple day as a substitute without placing too much importance on succeeding at the job. The problem was it felt much more important. Despite the fact that it was a one-day gig, she still wanted it to be a positive experience—for herself and for the students. That meant she needed to take a step back from the experiments she’d been working on at the CERN Hadron collider exploring the fundamental building blocks of matter and reorient herself to the basic physics principles she was sure to find in the lesson plans waiting for her. Running away from academia didn’t mean she also forgot everything from her education. Rifling through her old textbooks, she pulled out her introductory book from freshman year and her notebook from student teaching and started reviewing. Sticking with the basics was the best plan. After she felt like she could pass as a reasonably well-informed physicist again, she called it a night.
Chapter Three
Thursday
For mid-September, it was a warm and peaceful Maine morning. The start held the promise of a comfortable day. Chloe drove in with the music turned up, partly to distract her and partly because she loved the Mumford and Sons in her CD player. She always got lost in the acoustic harmonies they pumped out.
Crossing the bridge over Cod Cove into Wiscasset, Chloe saw shimmering reflections on the water. I am living in a postcard. Living in the northern regions of the East Coast her entire life hadn’t lessened her appreciation of nature’s majestic design. Sure, the black flies here drove her to the brink of madness, but the beauty surrounding her far surpassed the irritation caused by the pesky insects.
It was an easy drive to the high school, only nine miles according to Google. Chloe had woken up an hour before her alarm this morning, her nerves propelling her out of bed with an abundance of time to get ready. Beset by last-minute qualms, she wondered how her androgyny would be received. She had opted for gray chinos, a blue floral-print button-up layered under a maroon sweater, and her brown suede chukkas. She felt comfortable, but she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. She hadn’t really met any open hostility as a result of her sexuality while at Saint Michael’s in Vermont nor while she was in Massachusetts. Entering a school in rural Maine, however, might be another situation entirely. She’d been asked if she was in the correct bathroom multiple times while out shopping in Boothbay. She was cautiously optimistic about Wiscasset, but only because she couldn’t bring herself to consider the alternative.
The high school was nestled against a forest on the outer edge of town, and the parking lot out back that Maryanne had instructed her to park in was small. Not many of the other teachers had arrived yet, judging by the fact that there were only four cars in the lot. Chloe tried to relax, remembering her student teaching days and the kids that she had loved working with. It had been terrifying at first, but eventually the kids seemed like they could relate to her in some way. She hadn’t been a pushover, and she had seen a respect in most of them that gave her hope for today. The only problem was that today she wasn’t a student teacher; she was simply another sub.
* * *
Once Maryanne had given Chloe a quick tour of the school, she dropped her off in the physics room to prepare for the day. Mrs. Flore, the veteran physics teacher, had left detailed instructions for her substitute typed up neatly in a manila folder left on her desk. She included a printout of her entire schedule, which was convenient since Chloe had never been exposed to block scheduling or “A” and “B” Days.
“A” Day
First Block: Regents (General) Physics
Second Block: Free Period
Lunch Break
Third Block: Study Hall Supervision
Fourth Block: AP Physics
“B” Day
First Block: Regents (General) Physics
Second Block: Regents (General) Physics
Lunch Break
Third Block: Planning Period
Fourth Block: Study Hall/Senior Release
The school secretary explained the “A/B” day schedule to her, informing her that the letter days alternated throughout the week, and she would only see one set of students each day. This type of scheduling added flexibility for holidays and snow days, and students still had equal instruction time for both sets of classes. This Thursday, she learned, was an “A” Day and she’d be teaching a general physics class and an AP physics class. Next Thursday would be a “B” Day and the other two general physics classes would be meeting.
The teaching load consisted of just two classes each day, with a total of four overall. Mrs. Flore agreed to drop to a .8 position to save the school money as she neared retirement. The first period today was the general physics class. They would be going over the homework that had been assigned. The remainder of class time would be spent watching a movie and answering a set of questions from the textbook. Chloe allowed a hint of optimism to ease her nerves. First block, at least, was navigable.
The AP class would be her fourth block. She hoped that class would be uneventful too, but remembering the smart-ass high school boys she’d had to
deal with in her own AP classes, she knew better than to try to predict how it might go.
The second-block time slot was a free period. While that might be a good time to bone up on what the AP students were working on, she thought she’d covered most of that in her review last night. Last-minute cramming tended to make her more, rather than less, nervous. Good thing she’d brought along a book to read.
As she contemplated the rest of her day, she found that the idea of walking into a staff lounge without knowing a soul was about as appealing to her as teaching stark naked. It was a bit antisocial, but eating the lunch she’d brought with her in her classroom sounded pretty good. She would make a decision about that during second block, she guessed. During third block she would monitor a study hall in the library with Miss Levit, one of the English teachers. At least she wouldn’t be thrown to the wolves during that block. Probably. Unless Miss Levit was some kind of cream puff. She would find out soon enough.
After getting her bearings, Chloe took stock of the classroom. Typical wooden lab benches with solid black countertops lined the room, reminding her of her own physics classroom in high school. The classic momentum cars with magnets and Velcro on opposite ends, the kind she’d used then, were sitting out on student benches. Some were resting on the miniature metal tracks that accompanied them for the Newtonian mechanics lab. Piled in the back corner were various clamps, stopwatches, and motion sensors for the lab work.
The outer wall of the classroom was lined with windows, which overlooked the soccer pitch and track. To her right, Chloe found the entrance to Mrs. Flore’s office. It was small but filled with books and toys for demonstrations during class. Lining the walls were hundreds of pictures from students spanning decades. It was clear that Mrs. Flore was well-respected; students didn’t give every teacher signed pictures. The walls were lined with quotes from notable scientists, some relating to physics, others describing life in general. The warmth of the office was almost tangible, welcoming.
After collecting the materials Mrs. Flore had left for her, Chloe sat down at the front of the classroom to prepare. Reading through the homework questions and the accompanying answers, Chloe was confident she would be able to field any questions the kids had. It had been a while since she had been immersed in the mechanics of introductory physics, working through assigned lessons instead of doing research, but these concepts were so thoroughly a part of how she viewed and interacted in the world she was actually excited about the chance to explain the science behind a few of the problems. Poring over her notebooks last night had definitely made a difference; the physics component would be manageable at least.
Running her hand through her hair, Chloe wondered what the students would be like. Would they follow direction or take the opportunity to act out? Chloe began tapping her foot on the floor, her mind racing nearly as fast as her bouncing knee. She was really about to try her hand at teaching high school kids.
On the one hand, if she loved substituting, she faced struggling to find long-term substitute positions and waiting it out until she could nail down a long-term career. On the other hand, if she hated everything about working with the students, she would have to tick another career opportunity off her list and remain as far as ever from a clear sense of direction in her life. If she was totally ambivalent about the entire experience, she would remain in the post-grad purgatory that held her unsatisfied and underachieving.
How the hell does anyone find a job that’s rewarding and fulfilling? Is it naïve of me to hold out for that?
Wiping off her sweaty palms, Chloe forcefully shook her head in an attempt to refocus and read the rest of the instructions. The video was in the VCR and ready for first period to watch. The only thing left to do was to find a textbook so she could read out the questions the kids had to answer during the movie. Where was the book? There had to be one, but aside from lab equipment, nothing else was on the benches. Pacing the room, she saw nothing. The office! Letting out an audible sigh, Chloe grabbed the book from the office desk and felt her heart rate return to normal. Inhaling deeply, she spread everything out on the front bench and waited for her students to head in.
* * *
When the bell rang signaling the end of first period, Chloe was amped up. Her first eighty-minute period as a substitute was over, she had managed to accomplish everything on Mrs. Flore’s list, and none of the students had been jerks. To top it off, she surpassed her own expectations leading the class. She’d managed to answer the few questions about the homework easily, even getting a few laughs out of the students.
Now that she had a free period, lunch, a study hall, and only one other class to teach fourth block, she decided a walk around the school would not only be a good use of her free time but also a way to work off some nervous energy. With the majority of students now in classes, the hallways were nearly empty as she set out. Winding her way through the corridors, Chloe found herself in a hallway lined with trophy cases. Two large sets of doors, immediately familiar to her, stood open.
The polished wooden floors, aluminum bleachers, and basketball hoops she saw inside put her at ease. Having dedicated a vast amount of her time to practices, workouts, games, and watching games over the last twenty years, that wasn’t surprising. Whenever she walked into a gym, she itched to feel leather in her hands. This time was no different.
She liked this gym. It was pretty big with bleachers on all four walls and eight baskets on the perimeter along with the two main hoops. The bleachers were relatively new, but the banners of the opposing teams in the conference had to be from the seventies. Walking across the gym toward the cage of basketballs, Chloe noticed the feisty Wiscasset wolverine painted at half-court. There were worse mascots than wolverines. Judging by the banners on the walls, the Wolverines had been pretty successful for a small school.
Finding the equipment cage unlocked, Chloe plucked out a ball and turned to face the center of the gym. Absentmindedly she spun the ball in her hands, a habit deeply ingrained in her. In a seamless move, as natural to her as walking, her dribble was down, between her legs and falling into the rhythm of her body as she walked toward the basket. As she shot, she discovered that she had acquired an audience.
“Can I help you with something?” The question came from the far corner of the gym, where an office was located.
Chloe spun around. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I’m substituting today for Mrs. Flore. This is my free period. The gym was open. I couldn’t help myself.”
“And your name is…”
“Chloe Amden… I have my visitor’s badge. Hang on.” Chloe palmed the ball in her left hand while fumbling in her back pocket to fish out her badge. She handed her pass over to a slightly shorter, muscular woman with glimmering blue eyes and was relieved when her face broke into a smile.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but for the safety of the kids, I have to be pretty vigilant. I can’t allow any yahoo to walk into my gym and start playing, even if they’re decent shots.” The woman extended her hand for a firm, yet friendly handshake. “I’m Taylor Rafferty. I teach physical education and I coach the varsity girls’ team. I haven’t seen you around before.” Taylor paused, pushing a long strand of brown hair out of her face. “How did you end up at Wiscasset?”
“Well, I work part-time at the Boatery in Boothbay, and I’m trying to get my foot in the door to start teaching and hopefully coach some basketball. This is my first time substituting here. Well, anywhere, actually.”
“What do you want to teach? I’m always curious about people that want to join in the insanity that is high school education.” Taylor laughed as she cocked her head, waiting for Chloe’s reply.
Chloe had done some serious growing during her higher education, becoming more comfortable stepping outside of her bubble to get to know new people. Moving away for graduate school had demanded that of her. With a little effort she generally managed to find some commonality with the people she encountered. That did not necessarily mean she genuinely
enjoyed each interaction. Taylor, the affable gym teacher, was turning out to be one of those interactions that was just easy, as if they were old friends.
“Ideally I’d like to pursue a position teaching physics. But right now I’ll take anything I can get. I haven’t done anything since my junior year student teaching.”
“Why so rusty? Your junior year can’t be that long ago. Have you even graduated yet? And you coach? Answer any of those questions you feel comfortable with and in no particular order.” Holding her hands up for the pass, Taylor caught the ball and took a shot, waiting for Chloe to answer.
Chloe appreciated Taylor’s approachable demeanor. She was friendly, genuine, and patient enough that her questioning didn’t feel at all pushy. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing khakis and a Wiscasset girls’ basketball T-shirt. She was shorter than Chloe by at least three inches. Clearly defined muscles peeked out from underneath her short sleeves with each shot she took. Chloe had a sneaking suspicion that Taylor was not straight.
Grateful for the warm welcome she had offered, Chloe responded easily.
“Well, I’m rusty because I graduated three years ago. Even though I apparently still pass for a student, I’m really a twenty-six-year-old bum with two expensive degrees and no direction. I coached during my summers in undergrad. We only won a couple of tournaments, but with the talent we had that was basically like winning the World Series. I loved my kids to death and they played so hard. They did everything I asked of them and grew so much in three summers.”
Breaking Even Page 3