Page 11 of Midnight Lessons
I stifle a grin. These kids are like horses at the starting gate. Can’t blame them; it’s the last class on a Friday, and who wants to be stuck learning about mitosis when they could be out enjoying their weekend?
“Okay, guys,” I say, pushing off from the front desk where I’ve been perched for the last few minutes. “Let’s do a quick recap before I let you go.Mitchell”—I gesture at a lanky boy in the second row—“what’s the purpose of mitosis?”
Mitchell blinks at me, caught mid-snap of a rubber band around his wrist. He sits up a little straighter. “Uh… it’s when cells divide to create identical copies?”
“Correct.” I nod, impressed. “And why’s that important?”
There’s a beat of silence as he scrambles for the answer, then his eyes brighten. “Because… it helps organisms grow and repair themselves.”
“Exactly.” I scan the room, catching the gazes of a few other students. “And what happens if the cells don’t divide correctly? Rachel?”
Rachel, a petite girl with glasses and a permanent frown of concentration, bites her lip. “Um… genetic mutations?”
“Bingo.” I smile, feeling a surge of pride. They may be eager to bolt out the door, but they’ve been listening. “And what could those mutations lead to?”
The answers come quickly now, a chorus of murmured responses. “Cancer… genetic disorders…”
“Right.” I take a step back, letting my gaze sweep over the class. “Which is why understanding how our cells work is so important, right? It’s not about some boring diagram in a textbook.” I tap my finger on the open page. “It’s about understanding what happens inside us every second of every day. Knowing how our bodies function and what can go wrong is the first step to figuring out how to make things go right.”
There’s a murmur of agreement, and then the shrill ring of the bell cuts through the air, snapping everyone to attention. The students jump up, papers and notebooks shoved into backpacks with hurried, haphazard movements.
“All right, don’t forget—” I raise my voice to be heard over the scramble “—chapter six needs to be read by Monday, and there’s a quiz coming up next week.”
A few groans echo around the room, but I smile. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“See you, Mr. Callahan!” a girl calls as she darts out the door, the others following close behind in a chaotic rush.
I watch them go, the classroom emptying in seconds like a receding tide. Letting out a breath, I run a hand through my hair, glancing at the now-quiet room. Desks are scattered, a few chairs askew. Typical end-of-day mess. But overall, not bad for my first full week teaching biology at Midnight Falls High.
I grab my binder and the stack of ungraded papers from my desk, tucking them under one arm as I head toward the faculty room. The hallways are bustling, students pouring out of classrooms, their voices blending into a low roar of excitement. Locker doors slam, friends call out goodbyes, and snippets of conversation float past me.
“Did you see the game last night?”
“I can’t believe she said that…”
“Dude, are you going to the bonfire tonight?”
I sidestep a group of freshmen who seem determined to walk at a glacial pace, making my way to the faculty room at the end of the hall. As I pushopen the door, the quiet is a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
A few teachers are already there, scattered around the room, nursing cups of coffee or huddled over their laptops. The low hum of conversation is subdued compared to the student-filled halls. The faculty room is a haven, a place to breathe and regroup before the next onslaught.
“Hey, Owen,” a familiar voice calls, and I turn to see James Townsend, the history teacher, lounging in one of the worn-out armchairs. He has a mug of something steaming in his hand—probably tea if I know him—and his gaze is shrewd behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “How’s the bio department treating you?”
“Not bad,” I reply, dropping my papers onto the long table in the center of the room. “Kids are sharp.”
James snorts softly. “Yeah, well, you’re in for a surprise once midterms roll around. That’s when they show their true colors.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say dryly.
He chuckles. “Seriously though, you’re doing good work. The kids like you.”
“Already?” I arch an eyebrow. “It’s only been a week.”
“Word travels fast,” he says, sipping his tea. “You’ve got a reputation.”
I stiffen slightly, and my chest tightens. “A reputation?”
“Yeah.” James’ gaze sharpens. “They say you’re tough but fair. And that you care about whether they get the stuff you’re teaching.” He shrugs. “It’s not a bad thing, Owen. Just don’t let it burn you out.”