Page 12 of Timber Ridge
Then, a burst of energy rounds the doorway—a little boy with a spring in his step that could rival the liveliness of the waves crashing on the port’s shores. But the moment his mother follows him inside, this live wire retreats behind her, suddenly more of a cautious kitten than a bounding tiger. The only thing I see is his hand trying to grasp his mother’s jeans but can’t because of the plastic Thor in his hand.
“Hi there, I’m Theresa, and this shy guy here is Tommy,” she says, her strong voice contrasting with the delicate touch of her handshake.
Tommy peers out from behind Theresa’s legs, his earlier enthusiasm now tempered by a bashful silence.
“Hey there, Tommy!” I say, kneeling before him. “You know, Thor's pretty cool, isn't he? He's all about bravery and strength, just like you showed when you walked in here. I bet you and Thor would make an unstoppable team, taking on any adventure together.” I offer him my hand. “Are you ready to start the day?”
Tommy’s eyes, bright and curious beneath the fringe of his bangs, meet mine for just a moment. He inches forward, a small victory as he tentatively places his hand in mine. His grip is light, a whisper of connection, but it’s enough.
I stand, looking back at Theresa. “He’ll be fine. By the end of the day, he’ll likely be as happy as when he first came bouncing in.”
Lastly, Kane walks in with Hailey, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, and my stomach somersaults. How do denim and wool look so good on him? He’s the kind of man who could easily be on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. The Off the Grid edition, if one existed. Beside him is Hailey, who sports an outfit of many colors and patterns. Her hair is in pigtails that seem to have been styled during a game of tag. “Fashion by Hailey,” Kane says, his eyes lit with humor.
Hailey’s tiny face is a thundercloud, a contrast to her vibrant attire.
Kane leans in, and the scent of his cologne wraps around me. He smells like pine, and leather, and temptation. I’m so caught up in it that I barely hear him whisper, “Amanda, her mother, forgot to call yesterday.” The words crawl into my mind, each one heavy with meaning. As they sink in, my heart aches for the vulnerable girl in front of me. With newfound determination, I nod in response.
“We’ll have such a fun day that it’ll be just a distant memory soon.” I turn to the parents, who stand in a line looking like they are waiting to be dismissed. “I’ll take it from here.”
They file out one by one with a wave or a nod, and I walk to the front of the classroom with Kane’s cologne still tickling my senses.
The kids hang up their jackets and put away their lunch boxes while I wait a few more minutes to see if anyone else shows up. When they don’t by five minutes past the hour, I start the day.
“Good morning, everyone! Come and take a seat.” I point at the table in front of me. “I’m Ms. Moore, your teacher for the summer,” I start, my voice filling the quiet of the community center. “I’ve come all the way from Phoenix, Arizona.” I look at them and find it funny how they sit in order of age. “Now, I’d love to learn something about each of you. How about we go around, and everyone can share one thing about themselves? Who wants to go first?”
The room seems bigger without the parents, the air charged with excitement and nerves. Lucas raises his hand before he stands. “I like building model ships,” he says with a hint of pride. “And I’ve got three dogs named after sea monsters. They are Kraken, Leviathan, and Cetus.”
“That’s wonderful, Lucas. In a place like Port Promise, I would imagine boats are important.” I think about Kane again and how he was late to greet me because of boat problems. “And three dogs are a lot. Do you help take care of them?”
“I feed them, but they poop in the woods.” At the mention of poop, all the kids laugh.
“Thank you for sharing, Lucas.” I turn to the little superhero. “What about you, Tommy?”
Still clutching the action figure, Tommy looks up. His voice is small but clear. “I like to draw,” he says, “and I make the best mud pies.”
“It sounds like you’re an artist through and through. There is an art to baking pies, too.” I think about my mother’s lattice-top pies and how she’d cut the dough into shapes to add something special to her holiday treats. They were always a work of art.
“Now it’s Hailey’s turn.”
“I collect rocks,” she says, a glimmer of enthusiasm breaking through her clouds. “I’ve got a bunch from the beach. And I can skip stones on the water really well.” She pulls a handful from her pocket and sets them on the table.
“Wonderful, Hailey. There is so much to learn from rocks, and they are pretty, too.” I pick up a black one and think it may be coal.
All eyes are on me. I clap my hands together. “Wow, we have a shipwright, an artist, and a geologist here! This will be an exciting summer,” I say, thrilled at what these little personalities will bring to our days ahead.
With the parents gone and the kids’ introductions warming the room, I glance at the lesson plans Eliza left behind to make sure I didn’t miss anything yesterday when I went over them. There is no strict curriculum to adhere to, no tests overshadowing the joy of learning—just pure, imaginative education. Eliza’s lessons are infused with fun, with room for creativity and exploration. Today's lesson plan is about geography. About Alaska, its landscape, climate, and industry. I can already tell I’m going to like it here.
Knowing Hailey needs a pick-me-up and remembering how much she likes to lead and help, I say, “Hailey is going to be my teacher’s aide for the day. Would you like that, Hailey?”
Her pigtails bob as she nods her head.
“Great. Can you get the crayons and butcher paper out of the closet? It’s the big roll of white paper.”
Hailey jumps from her seat and dashes to the closet with enough excitement to rival a puppy chasing a ball. When she struggles with the weight of the roll, Lucas jumps up to help. It would seem that the community motto might still be alive.
I roll out the paper and empty the box of crayons on the table. How do I integrate five-year-old Hailey, and six-year-old Tommy, with the budding complexity of eleven-year-old Lucas? I sketch a quick diagram—the sea for Lucas, a blank slate for Tommy’s artistic endeavors, and a rocky shoreline for Hailey’s collection.
I glance at the expectant faces before me—Lucas, Tommy, and Hailey—and an idea blossoms. “Alright, crew,” I announce, “today, we’re going to create our own sea adventure. Lucas, you’re the captain of our ship. Tommy, you’ll draw the maps and landscapes we’ll explore. And Hailey, with your rock collection, you’ll help us navigate and find treasures. We’ll be sailing the coast of Alaska.”