She came in and leaned against my desk. “What’s up?”
I pointed to the computer screen, and she read it quietly for a moment.
“Yes! You should definitely apply. You’d be great!”
“What? No, I wouldn’t.”
“Yes, you would. You’re fantastic with the kids, and all the teachers love working with you. Your paperwork is always on point, and you already help half the department with their computer issues. You’re perfect.”
“But what about all the meetings?”
“Yeah, that part will be annoying, but I don’t think it will be so bad.”
“It’s not that. It’s just… I’ll be speaking at a lot of meetings. And to parents.”
“Afraid to spend too much time in meetings with the admin?” Katie laughed. “Seriously, I agree with Michelle. I’d much rather you be our lead than anybody else.”
Was she being purposely obtuse? Or just too considerate to mention the elephant in the room? I forced a smile, knowing she was too nice to say anything else. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Ready to go?” she asked with a glance at the clock.
“I need a minute. You can go ahead.”
Katie left to pick up her student, and I quickly pulled out the materials for my next session before following after her. I was already two minutes late, which was a big deal when sessions were only thirty minutes. Another reason I shouldn’t be lead—chronic tardiness.
“Hi, Juliette!” a teacher, Dina or Dana or Deanna, said with a bright smile as I passed her in the hall.
“Hey, how are you?” I responded with my usual greeting and a smile. Even when I knew someone’s name, it was never withenough confidence to say it under pressure. Everyone seemed to know my name, though. And they were still all friendly to me.
My chest felt funny, pride and doubt battling it out. Was Katie right? I did have a good relationship with most of the teachers. Therapists and administrators too. Even if I didn’t follow through on being lead, it felt surprisingly good that Michelle and Katie thought I could.
I walked back to the therapy room with my student. As we sat down in my cubby, I said, “Hey, Lia, we’re going to do some job practice first, and then we’ll do an obstacle course, okay?” Lia nodded, then I demonstrated the sequence of folding the squares of paper in half, stapling them, and inserting them into envelopes. I passed the materials to her and watched with encouragement and occasional cues, ignoring the gnawing in my gut and the red dot on my screen that indicated a new email. Did Michelle send another email? Was I good enough to be lead?
Oh no. Maybe I wasn’t ignoring them as well as I thought. Lia was humming. That was her sign. The first warning that she was about to lose control.
“Hey, can I help with that?” I asked gently, indicating the envelope Lia was about to tear. “It’s okay, I’ll help open it, and then you can put the paper in.”
Lia ripped the envelope in half and threw the pieces at me. I subtly moved the stapler to my other side. That was the only potential projectile within reach that could do real damage.
“You okay?” Katie called from the next cubby.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
But we weren’t good. Lia reached for the stapler, but when she couldn’t get to it, she went after me. After a quick flurry of swatting and grabbing, I managed to move out of her reach, the stapler safely behind my back.
I felt a stinging in my chest but ignored it and said, “Ready?”
No response, but she sat in her seat, hands down. I silently counted to ten, and when Lia still didn’t move, I sat back down. I grabbed more supplies from my shelf, folded a paper, stapled it, and put it in an envelope while Lia watched. I slid the stapler back toward her, holding it securely on the desk while she begrudgingly completed the task.
I did another one and passed it back to her, repeating the process. We found a rhythm and quickly completed the task.
Lia pointed to the sensory area, asking for the promised obstacle course.
“I don’t know. You hurt me.” I paused to let it sink in. “But then you did pull it together very nicely.”
She looked at me hopefully. “Are you sorry?” I asked, making a fist with my right hand and circling it over my chest, signing the wordsorry.
Lia signedsorryback.