Tracy Kelleher - On Common Ground

“I’m much better. That’s what I wanted to let you know. Besides, there’re only a few weeks left to the school year for public schools in New Jersey, so I might as well chill out—especially since I’ve got a sub covering for me for these few days. I mean, I know that I overreacted last night. Geez, you’d have thought after all the trouble that I’d gotten into as a kid I would have been better prepared. It was just the tone of his email—demanding that I see him as soon as possible and that he’d wait around his office specifically for me. To say the least, it kind of shook me. I mean, I know there’ll always be some parents who’ll grumble about my teaching methods—”

“That’s because you do things differently. Anyway, I don’t understand all the emphasis on testing, testing, testing these days—even before kids get to kindergarten! If I have one more parent ask me if her child is ready for kindergarten, I’m going to scream. I’m not surprised you were upset.”

“I guess it kind of blindsided me because the day before in class had been so terrific.”

“Tell me.”

Justin could practically hear her rub her hands together. That’s what he loved about Roberta—her enthusiasm, her heart. Things he always used to find so great in Lilah…

He smiled and then remembered he was still on the phone. “After I read them a book about the Brooklyn Bridge, there were whole groups of kids building bridges of blocks. They even labeled the tollbooths and made money for the cars to hand in. You should have seen it. There’s even one kid making a GPS system to help drivers get over the bridge back to Grantham. And they did it all on their own.”

“They wouldn’t have done it without you. And that’s because you’re a terrific teacher, Justin. So don’t doubt your abilities just because a new administrator comes through who’s got his own agenda about how to teach. Besides, your kids score very well on these standardized tests—am I right?”

“Are you ever wrong?”

Roberta chuckled. “Whatever you do, don’t ask Oscar that question.” Oscar was her husband.

“Oscar would probably agree that you’re always right.”

“True, but then he is a good man. He married me, after all, but then he always said I was quite a babe back in those days.”

Justin grinned. He remembered seeing photos of the two of them taken at Coney Island. Oscar was indeed a lucky man. “Okay, okay. What can I say?” Justin replied. “You’re right. It’s just that the way he told me, saying there’d been complaints, just threw me for a loop—especially when he wouldn’t say who’d been complaining. He claimed confidentiality or something, making me smell a setup.”

“Now you’re being paranoid.”

“Am I?” Justin frowned. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just that when someone questions my abilities, my old insecurities rise to the forefront.”

“Justin,” Roberta said firmly over the line.

“I know, I know. No whining.” He laughed, then looked in the mirror again, pleased that his tie was indeed straight.

“Now, tell me something.”

“Yes?” Justin immediately turned away from his reflection. He had a feeling that Roberta was peering over his shoulder.

“You’re calling on a Friday morning, when you would normally be teaching. You haven’t told me something else that I should know about?”

Justin sighed, knowing he would have to come up with an answer. “I’m taking a personal day. As it turns out, I’m hosting a prizewinning alum for Reunions weekend at Grantham.”

There was a slight pause. “Is that alumnus or alumna?” Roberta asked, differentiating between the male and female varieties.

Justin laughed. “Alumna. And my classics professor father would be proud of you.”

“It’s you he should be proud of.”

“Let’s not go there,” Justin said.

“Tell me, the reason you’re hosting this prizewinning person is because…?”

“Because I was the one who nominated her for the prize.”

“And you did that because…?”

“Because she does fantastic work in Africa and is totally self-sacrificing.”

“I get the picture. She’s a saint. So why do I get the impression that there’s something more than what you’re telling me?”

“Well, this is purely coincidental…”

“Excuse me, Dr. Freud. Nothing is coincidental.”

Justin didn’t bother to refute her statement. “She also happens to have been the ex-fiancée of my senior year roommate.”

“Ex? Now this I got to hear more of. Have you seen her yet? Is she everything you’d hoped for?”

Cupping the phone under his chin, Justin strapped on his watch and looked at the time. He hurriedly slipped his wallet into the back packet of his trousers and grabbed his blue blazer off his unmade bed. “Listen, I don’t have much time because, as a matter of fact, I’m just on my way to do some errands, then pick her up to take her to lunch with the university president.”

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