The Way of Lessons

By Michelle Schlicher

Luca Marin is a third grader and the son of an addict. He doesn’t have much. There’s no one he relies on. Until he meets Xander Davis. Xander is a fourth grader at Easton Elementary and soon earns Luca’s trust to become his friend. As Luca’s mother, Leslie, deals with her addiction, Luca and Xander’s school community is struggling with a hard truth—that Easton is in danger of closing.

Thomas Marshall and Sophia Snow must navigate the halls of Easton along with their fellow teachers as best as they can in the wake of this possibility. While others connected to Easton also become affected by the potential loss, they each face unique challenges of their own.

For many, Easton will become a symbol of hope. For others, it will represent a great loss.

The Way of Lessons reaches into the heart of a community and shows the power of small moments that can make all the difference in a complicated time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Schlicher
• Release date: Mar 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780998574066

Michelle Schlicher

MICHELLE SCHLICHER is the author of the novels THE BLUE JAY, GRACIE'S SONG and COME THIS WAY. She lives outside of Des Moines with her family. You can follow her on Instagram @michelleschlicher.

Book preview

PART ONE

1

Easton Elementary

It’s here. The first day of school.

Anticipation fills the air. Children approach. These old bones of a building will once again hold the good souls of the world. The innocent minds of a new generation are ready.

I stand tall, my doors open wide. I welcome them in, more each year than the one before. They are safe here inside these walls. I make it so. The red brick that keeps out the elements and provides an escape. I make sure they see friendly faces five days a week. It’s a great responsibility, holding society’s dearest, giving them some sense of security, a sense of peace. For them, this is a place to dream, to hope, to learn.

In the mornings, when they arrive, they run their fingers along my paint-chipped walls. Throughout the day, each grade makes their way outside where some of them lean against me to catch a breath or huddle with friends to tell their secrets. I watch as they hang from the monkey bars that should have long been replaced. Their shoes hit the pavement around me as they chase and laugh and catch their breath. I remember last year, when little Luca Marin leaned against me after lunch to watch his classmates play and wondered when someone might ask him to play. I wished for arms to wrap them around him and let him know that he wasn’t alone. When Luca walked out on the last day before summer break, his bookbag slung over one shoulder, his expression unreadable, I would have waved to him when he turned around and stared at me. When he stood there, mesmerized by thoughts I was not privy to, I could not help but wonder what he must be thinking. He looked like he would miss me, but he didn’t have a friend here to call his own.

Luca will be in third grade if he returns.

Each day parents gather outside my doors and wait to see their little ones burst out and back into their arms after a day of learning. They smile and ask questions. They link their fingers together and begin their walk home. This reunion, though it replays five days a week, sometimes less with a holiday, exudes joy and anticipation.

From the front, I’m not much to look at. I have yet to be outfitted with a new intercom system. Principal Maulsby spoke about this at one of his meetings last year, that safety needed to be a top priority. I was built before safety at school was questioned. Now, there are drills for the specific purpose of readying teachers and students for a time when I cannot keep them safe. A new intercom system would help, but I am at the bottom of the list for that update this year. Part of me wonders if it is in my future at all.

Inside I know I lack other things. Technology is changing the way my teachers teach. Talk of tablets in the classroom, as well as individualized instruction are discussed in meetings. Our parent-teacher organization, the PTO, tries to raise money for these endeavors, but often, the school falls short of its annual fundraising goal. Getting the students to and from school is another consideration. Parents pay for their children to ride the bus in an effort to offset budget deficits. This will be the third year. At first this change was met with resistance until Principal Maulsby made it clear that it was either charge for transportation or cease to provide it at all.

In fourth grade, all of the students receive recorders and learn simple songs to play. Recently, there’s talk about doing away with the program. It is a favorite of the students (though perhaps not the parents) and it breaks my heart to think of them giving it up. I try to imagine the out-of-sync playing of B-A-G no longer drifting from the music room.

And then there’s Briana Mooring. Last year, she left on the last day with a huge smile, laughing, her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Briana rode her bike every day. She loved being outside. Recess was her favorite, but I knew that would change. Briana had been waiting her entire life to be a crossing guard. It was all she talked about. This year Briana would be in fifth grade. She would finally be a crossing guard. I couldn’t wait to see her walk giddily through my doors wearing the fluorescent vest.

The beginning of the year also brought three new kindergarten classes. Those boys and girls, who for the first time will be in school for the entire day, are some of my favorites. A few of them cry, and I try to shine my lights a little brighter so they won’t be afraid. If I could, I would take their hands and walk them where they needed to go, and they would know they needn’t be scared.

And years later, when they’ve outgrown me, maybe they’ll remember their time here. While short, it will stay with them, at least I hope it will. I will become a fond memory, a reminder of how far they’ve come. Will they look at me differently? Will they remember how I stood tall for them? Perhaps they will wonder how life would have been without me, if they hadn’t had my library full of books waiting to be discovered. Or my blacktop to run on. Where would they be if they hadn’t met my teachers, the ones who spent each school day with them, pushing them, inspiring them, loving them?

Yes, I wonder. What would it have been like for them without me?

I am thankful they’ve never had to find out.

2

Thomas Marshall

It was 99 degrees.

Thomas Marshall disliked that the first day of school was often the hottest as well. He was sure the students of Easton Elementary would much rather be playing outside, swimming at the neighborhood pool, sinking their teeth into a cool snow cone on a day like this. He watched from his window as parents drove through the drop-off line. He saw some faces he remembered. Everyone looked so much older. He taught kindergarten and many students lost their baby teeth in his class. When they came back from summer break, they also came back with those two new adult teeth right in front, too big for their little faces. It surprised him when they grinned at him, their mouths so out of proportion. It also made him sad to see them so grown. Childhood was so fleeting.

Welcome back, Mr. Marshall, Bentley Elling called from across the hall.

Mr. Marshall nodded. How was your summer? he asked the old janitor.

Aw, went fast. Did some work for my nephew up in Minnesota.

Yeah? Thomas asked, walking out into the hallway, the sound of voices filtering out of the gymnasium where the students gathered before school. What’s he do?

Carpentry, Bentley answered, walking towards him. Hard work, but that’s never bothered me before.

As Thomas watched the man, he found himself struck by the swiftness of his movements. Bentley may move slower than others through the hallways of Easton, but Thomas couldn’t deny that his leisurely stroll was deliberate and ensured he excelled in his role. Bentley missed nothing. How did he do it? Thomas wondered.

I always say you’re the hardest working in this place, Thomas said. He meant it. Bentley loved Easton. He’d worked at the school for more than twenty years.

Well, good luck today, Bentley said, heading towards the voices in the cafeteria.

Thanks, Thomas called after him.

Thomas checked his watch, the mounting anticipation of the first day inescapable. He imagined by the first recess, he’d be welcoming the break, but for now he was almost giddy.

He had a good ten minutes before he’d need to be back to his room so he wandered down the hall to the fourth-grade classrooms to see Sophia Snow, a last-minute replacement for Mrs. Hantz. A few weeks earlier, the new teacher had poked her head through Thomas’ classroom doorway and asked to borrow a stapler. They shared a laugh, about what he couldn’t remember now, but the easy conversation and upbeat nature of the woman had his step quickening when he found himself near the fourth-grade hall.

You ready for this? he asked, teasing her. He’d never met a new teacher so ready for the year.

Turning, Sophia smiled, noticing for the first time Thomas Marshall’s mismatched socks. She wondered if they were on purpose to get a laugh from his students. He did teach kindergarten after all. More than ready after I refill this cup of coffee, she said, holding it up. Walk me to the teacher’s lounge?

I would love to, he said.

They made their way down the west hallway, turning right into the lounge near the front office. A few other teachers stood in the center of the room. Everett Hart was laughing and shaking his head.

I’ve got you beat, he said. Even with my teacher discount, I spent well over $350.

$350? What are you buying those kids, Everett? Sally Opely said, her eyes wide. You sure you didn’t buy yourself a new desk chair, too?

He smirked. Just the usual.

Well, I tell you what, I don’t make enough to spend more than I do, she said, the light in her voice fading away. I spent $175. She turned to Sophia. Can you beat that? she asked. How much would you say you’ve spent preparing your classroom?

Oh, gosh, Sophia said, blushing. I’m not sure…

You know it’s high, Everett. Can’t even admit it to us!

Sophia blushed even more.

You’re right, you’re right, Everett said. He crossed his arms in front of him. What about you, Thomas?

Forgot, Thomas said. Spent about $250 I’d say.

Looks like you’ve got us all beat, Sally, Everett said, nudging her shoulder. Then he turned to Sophia. "Each year, we have a contest to see who can prepare their room with the least amount of money. Most of us can’t do it for under $200, but Sally here miraculously pulls through every year.

It’s not miraculous. It’s utilizing all my resources. She turned to Sophia. My son gets a discount at the shopping center across town. He’s the manager. I get the family discount, you know. It helps a lot. She turned back to Everett. I also frequent garage sales for books for my classroom.

I don’t have time for garage sales, Everett said. And I don’t know how you have time for that either, with teaching and working at the shop. He smiled so Sally knew he was still being sincere. You know I stock groceries in the summer. Plus, garage sales aren’t reliable.

Reliable enough, Sally said.

Right then, Duke Maulsby, known as just Maulsby by students and teachers alike, walked in. The principal was short in stature, but his personality more than made up for it. Well, good morning, good morning, he said, patting Everett on the back.

It is, Everett said.

Bell’s about to ring, Sally said, turning to leave. You all have a great first day. See you at the end of it.

Sophia turned to follow her out.

Miss Snow? Maulsby said, reaching out for her arm, stopping her. You all set for today? I know you had much less time to prepare. Is there anything you need? The hair covering the bald spot on Maulsby’s head fell forward as he spoke, revealing the shiny piece of skin that lay beneath.

Sophia reached up and brushed it back into place, to the surprise of everyone still in the room. The teachers at Easton Elementary would come to find Sophia’s kindness transcended social etiquette. She immediately put herself in other people’s shoes and couldn’t resist helping where she could, whether that meant lending a child the spare coat in her room or fixing Maulsby’s out-of-place hairs.

Thank you, Sophia said as Maulsby, Thomas, and Everett stood, still gaping, at her masterful hair fix. I’m quite prepared.

With that, she left the lounge.

The three remaining men could do nothing but stare after her in admiration, even Maulsby whose cheeks had turned pink as her fingers brushed by his scalp, not indignant in the least.

3

Xander Davis

Once, when I was 6, my family moved. We weren’t running away from anything. My dad got a new job. That’s all. My mom was finally happy, because my dad hadn’t had a job in a couple of months. When we got here, my parents signed me up at Easton. It was already the middle of the school year, but Maulsby brought my mom and me in for a meeting and he was really nice. He said I’d catch up in no time.

That was a few years ago. I’m in fourth grade now. Well, I start fourth today. I’m nervous because my best friend, Aron Berry, isn’t in my class. I got the new teacher. Her name’s Miss Snow. Miss Snow. Can you believe it? My neighbor has a cat named Christmas, but that’s a cat. I mean, I really like her name. I kind of wish Snow was my last name. What’s a cooler last name than Snow? I can’t think of one.

Do you know what I really wish for this year?

I wish that our class field trip doesn’t get cancelled. We were supposed to go last year, but then they cancelled all the field trips at the last minute. Washington said it was because of funding. I told my mom and asked her what funding was. She just shook her head. Washington is Mr. Cooper. He looks like George Washington—you know like on the dollar bill? He’s got long white hair and a pointy nose. He’s only Mr. Cooper on the first day when he introduces himself, then the rest of the year he’s Washington. He doesn’t even mind. I wonder if Miss Snow will mind stuff like that.

When I got to school this morning, Aron came up to me and high-fived me. That’s how I knew we were still friends. Some years, you come back from summer break and people forget who their friends were. They played with different kids the whole summer and they forget they played with you every recess during school. I was afraid Aron would forget. Plus, we got put in different classes this year. So, I thought maybe he’d forget me, but he didn’t. I gave him a big smile when I saw him.

Aron’s the funny kid in class. He’s like the funniest person I know.

Last year, when we were walking to music class and we were almost to the room, we could hear Miss Frank’s dance party music playing. She said she played it before every class to get students excited about music. Aron started doing this crazy dance in line, shaking his butt and spinning around, making all these silly faces. We were dying until Washington came over and shook his finger at Aron. Aron shrugged, and do you know what Washington did? He winked at him! I think Washington would have started dancing, too, if it hadn’t been against the rules. If teachers have to follow the kid rules, I mean. I guess they probably have their own rules.

Aron’s always doing stuff like that. It’s a blast being his friend. I laugh a lot. All the time. I’d miss Aron if he found new friends and forgot about me. I probably wouldn’t laugh as much.

Hey man, Aron said as I sat down at one of the cafeteria tables. What’s up?

I shrugged. I was still tired from having to wake up so early for school to catch the bus.

We going to play kickball at recess? he asked.

You know it, I said. How’s your mom?

Aron didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me either. All of a sudden, I felt bad for asking. Last year, Aron’s mom got really sick. She was in the hospital for a long time. Aron said it was the flu. I don’t think it was really the flu. He said that’s what his grandma told him, but she was there for so long, and I haven’t heard of anyone having to ride in an ambulance and stay in the hospital for a month or whatever because of the flu. It was some kind of emergency and no one was telling Aron. I felt bad for him because I don’t think anyone was being honest with him.

You see the new teacher yet? he asked.

Nah, I said. Funny name, though, huh? Miss Snow?

Nah, it’s cool, he said, which I agreed with, but had said it because I wanted him to go back to being funny. I shouldn’t have asked about his mom.

Hey, look what I got, I said, pulling my backpack up onto my knees. I unzipped it and reached for the gooey zombie I got in one of those prize dispensers a few weeks before. It only cost two quarters. The blue zombie didn’t have a face or anything. It was just an outline of the zombie. Actually, it kind of looked like a normal person. You couldn’t really tell it was a zombie.

Cool, Aron said. He stood up and stuck his arms out like he was a zombie and started walking in place, making weird zombie sounds.

Dude, stop, I said, laughing. People are staring.

He laughed, back to his old self. I bet you could throw that at the wall and it’d stick, he said.

Maybe, I said, squeezing the goopy zombie.

Throw it at the ceiling, Aron said. Let’s see.

I looked around. The other teachers were distracted, talking and laughing as they waited, like us, for the school day to begin. Bentley was moving around the other side of the cafeteria, saying hi to kids as he passed them before disappearing behind the doors to the kitchen.

Okay, I said, standing up.

Nobody’s looking, Aron said, urging me on. I quickly looked around and threw the tiny zombie above me. We both watched as it fell back down, missing the ceiling completely. My zombie landed on Carter’s head.

Hey, he yelled, grabbing at his hair.

Aron couldn’t help but laugh, but I tried to stifle mine. Sorry, I mumbled, reaching for the zombie.

What is this stupid thing, anyway? he asked, turning it over to inspect it. Looks pretty dumb to me.

It’s a zombie.

Doesn’t look like a zombie, he said.

Give it back, Thomas. We’re trying to throw it up to the ceiling.

Thomas handed the zombie to me. Whatever.

I sat back down next to Aron. Dude, we’re going to get in trouble, I said, smiling, because getting in trouble for having fun was different than getting in trouble for something bad.

It was so close, Aron said. Let me try.

I don’t know…

C’mon, Xander, Aron said, holding his hand out.

Alright, but don’t get caught.

Aron stood up and looked around. Everything clear? he asked me.

I took one more look and nodded. Hurry up.

He rounded back and aimed at the ceiling. Aron had a stronger arm than me. The zombie hit the ceiling… and stuck.

I jumped from my seat. We both started cheering.

Boys! Mrs. Opely, one of the second-grade teachers, gave us a warning look.

Sorry, Mrs. Opely, Aron said, a little too sweetly.

We sat back down, both of us staring up at the ceiling. The bell rang and we picked up our bags. See you at lunch, creepy zombie, Aron said, waving to the spec of goop above our heads.

Would it still be there by lunch? I doubted it.

See ya, Zombie, I said, only a little sad to say goodbye.

I didn’t need a dumb zombie, anyway. Not now that I was in school with real friends again.

A few hours later when we lined up for lunch, I saw Aron’s class ahead of us.

As we followed them into the cafeteria, my eyes went straight to the spot where the zombie had been. Nothing there. I looked to the table and floor beneath the spot. No sign of it.

Aron caught my eye and pointed to the ceiling.

I shrugged back at him.

At recess after lunch, we made teams. Aron was a team captain and picked me first.

Where’d the zombie go? Aron asked when I walked over to stand by him.

Probably fell down. P.E. class is in there. Some kid probably picked it up.

Dude, maybe Bentley found it. You should ask him.

Maybe, I said.

Aron! Jackson, the other team captain yelled, It’s your pick!

I know! Aron yelled back, even though I don’t think he did. He’d been too interested in the zombie.

Just ask him, Aron said, turning back to me.

Why do you care about the zombie? I asked. I barely cared.

Aron shrugged. I don’t know. Don’t you want to know what happened to it?

I guess, I said.

Reagan! Aron yelled.

You’re picking a girl? Jackson shook his head in disbelief. What?!

Reagan walked over to join us on the edge of the cement. I gave her a high five. Jackson never wanted to let the girls play, but Reagan was the fastest kid in the class.

Shut up, Jackson, I yelled back.

Jackson rolled his eyes.

I turned to Reagan. Hey, I said.

Girls are just as good at kickball as boys, she said.

I never said they weren’t, I said, mad that she didn’t realize I had been trying to defend her.

She shrugged.

Aron and Jackson called the rest of the names, and we started playing. When Reagan went to kick, Jackson started hollering from the outfield. Better back up, you guys! he yelled, taunting her.

Reagan frowned, her face puckering up. I think she’d have punched Jackson if she could’ve gotten away with it. Instead, she kicked the ball hard, straight into Jackson’s middle, right in the gut. I thought he might fall over. By the time anyone on his team reacted, Reagan was already heading home to score.

She smiled as she ran across Aron’s jacket. Score! Aron high-fived her, as did the rest of our team, including me.

I guess she didn’t need to punch Jackson after all.

After that, more and more girls asked to play kickball. Some of them were as good as Reagan, not as fast, but they could kick or throw. Some of them were awful, but P.J. was awful and we let him play.

It ended up being more fun with the girls, too. First, our teams were bigger so we had more people to cover the field. We didn’t have to chase the ball so much. There weren’t gaps like before. Second, I got to spend more time with Willa Sutton. Willa was in Miss Snow’s class with me. She was quiet but nice. We always had to stand together in line because Miss Snow had us line up by our first names, and we were the last, alphabetically.

You up next? Willa asked at the end of our first week of school. I noticed she had three freckles by her left ear that looked darker out in the sun. I couldn’t stop staring at them.

Yeah, I said.

Good luck, she said.

Thanks, I said.

After I kicked the ball and made it to first base, I looked over at Willa. She was clapping and whistling. I’m pretty sure my whole face turned