Page 23 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

I snorted a humorless laugh. “I appreciate your confidence,” I said, running a hand through my hair. I was beginning to regret leaving it down. It felt like a wool blanket in this already stuffy room.

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Manifest the perfect lesson!”

Ashley did not understand sarcasm. I laughed in earnest.

“Perfection is too ambitious,” I said. “My plan is to just be really funny and charm them into learning something.”

Ashley shrugged. “That might work. The first day is really just about introducing yourself to the students and setting a tone. It’s important they respect you from the outset or you’ll be fighting an uphill battle for the rest of the semester.”

I nodded while I sipped my coffee, and Ashley continued from atop her soap box.

“But you don’t want to swing too far in the other direction either. Getting the reputation for being a bitch won’t do you any favors. It’s a delicate balance.”

I thought, perhaps, Ashley might be speaking from personal experience.

“That, and part of the criteria for winning this job is student evaluations,” I added bitterly.

Ashley sat bolt upright, and her face twisted in horror. “They are not.” When I nodded my confirmation, she practically growled. “Student evaluations. I sent the Headmaster multiple articles about how they are no more substantive than Google reviews. Not to mention sexually biased. I’m going to talk to him.”

She moved to stand, and I stilled her with a hand on her arm. “No, please don’t.”

Ashley held my gaze for a beat before sitting back down, though I suspected she was still planning on speaking with Richmond. I doubted there was anything I could say to stop her.

“Don’t worry about the evaluations,” she said. “You just need to teach.”

I pinched my eyes closed and then blinked them open to find Ashley staring at me quizzically. “But that’s not enough,” I protested. “I still need them to like me, and like me more than Mr. Cooper. Oh yeah—and I still have to teach them chemistry during this little popularity contest.”

“Stop,” Ashley ordered, pointing her spoon at me like a spear. “Take a deep breath.”

I had no choice but to comply.

“In-two-three-four,” she chanted while I sucked in air through my nose. “Out-two-three-four.”

“But, what if—”

“And again!” she commanded. “Slow, deep breaths improve heart variability and get more oxygen to your brain. I get it. There’s a ton of pressure. But freaking out is not going to help. The only things you can control are your mindset and your body.”

Oddly, I felt noticeably better after a few deep breaths.

“You’ll be fine,” she added. “Choose to be fine.”

“I am fine,” I said, even though the words felt forced. If I said them enough, they might just become true.

At least, Ashley seemed satisfied.

Ignoring Ashley’s raised eyebrow, I filled a to-go cup with more coffee and headed toward my classroom in Franklin Hall. Okay, it wasn’t my classroom, it was the school’s classroom, and I was just using it (and unfortunately sharing it). But it felt like mine, and for the next fifty-five minutes, it would be. That thought put a little pep back into my step.

I placed printed copies of the syllabus in a tidy stack on my desk and stowed my bag in a drawer. Then I watched in giddy anticipation as my Fundamentals of Chemistry students filed into the room and chose seats.

Determined to make a good first impression, I tried to make eye contact with as many people as I could. Like me. Please like me.

I straightened the pile of syllabuses even though they were already straight. Then I took a sip of coffee. Then I took another peek at my lesson plan and the jokes written into the margins. I had to put my best foot forward to make sure I could keep all of their attention.

When the bell rang, signaling the start of class, I pulled on my sunniest smile. Go time. Twenty-two pairs of eyes regarded me with a mix of expressions that ranged from curiosity to boredom.

One boy had his eyes closed and head down on his work bench, trying to catch a few more moments of sleep. It was eight o’clock in the morning—not early by conventional definitions. Ashley’s advice rang in my head. I had zero intention of letting students sleep in my class. I needed all eyes on me.

“Good morning,” I called. A little too loudly.