Chapter 3
She woke up early, even before her alarm clock. In fact, she was the one who woke up her alarm clock—because she forgot to buy new batteries for it. But when she remembered that it was Kenneth’s gift, she picked it up and threw it straight into the trash.
She had already decided. She would throw away everything that reminded her of Kenneth. It wasn’t easy, but with every item she let go of, she felt lighter. Each breath became easier.
It felt like a heavy thorn was pulled out of her chest. She felt like a TV viewer who finally finished a long drama series—relieved, because at least now, she already knew how everything ended.
“You seem happy today,” her mom teased as she came closer, then whispered, “Why? Is your period over?” Her mom laughed and quickly moved away, as if she already knew what her daughter was planning.
That was her mom, always playful. She couldn’t help but laugh too, then gave her mom a sharp look.
Well, it was true. She always felt much better after her period. But whenever it came, she felt like the whole world’s problems were dropped on her shoulders. She would rather solve the hardest math problem than go through her monthly period.
“Be quiet, Mama! The neighbors might hear you and think I’m always grumpy when I have my period.” But her mother just laughed more and left her in the kitchen.
“Mama!” she called, shaking her head before sipping her coffee. She was about to tell her mother that today was her first day at work, but her mom’s thoughts were clearly somewhere else.
What will happen later? she wondered. I hope the kids are nice. She took another sip of her coffee.
“Mama!” she called again, hearing her mom still laughing. “This coffee is missing sugar. Are you mad at me?”
But deep down, she also hoped the man she would work with would be nice too. She didn’t want her mood ruined, not on her first day.
“Good morning, children!”
The kids quickly stood up. Some clapped their hands and shouted, “Captain is here!”
That’s the power of being a leader, she thought. People notice you like you’re a celebrity. But she also wondered how leaders could smile at people who didn’t even vote for them.
Maybe that’s just how it is. Once you win, it doesn’t matter anymore who voted or not. You still have the duty to serve everyone.
She shook her head quietly. She didn’t want to think about politics this early in the morning. She had no plans of running for captain anyway.
Another child shouted again that the captain was here. It reminded her of how they used to act when their teacher entered the classroom back in school. The class president would warn everyone, and just one shout of “Teacher’s here!” was enough to bring order to the storm.
She missed being a student.
“Good morning, Captain!” the children greeted in chorus. Their sweet smiles were priceless. She couldn’t believe these were the kids she would be teaching.
She almost thought of skipping lessons and just playing a Barbie movie marathon. The girls would love it—for sure. The boys? Maybe not.
“Good morning, visitor,” the kids added, smiling at her.
So they thought she was a visitor. She smiled back and turned to face the Captain.
Back in her training days, she always tried hard to be nice. Even when she was tired or annoyed, she just smiled. She wanted the kids to have a good impression of her. After all, her grades depended on them too.
She remembered how nervous she was during her grand demo. She thought it would be the end of her teaching dream. But luckily, the kids behaved that day, answered well, and made her look good in front of her evaluators. She felt so blessed.
Her thoughts ended when the Captain introduced her. She smiled warmly and waved when her name was called.
“Good morning, Teacher Ella!” the kids greeted.
Her heart melted. Teaching always gave her this kind of joy. She knew she was made for this.
“Good morning, class! You can just call me Teacher Ell, okay?” she said with another smile.
This was her path. This was her beginning.
“Teacher!” a little girl called as she walked up to the table, holding her paper.
She had just given the kids their first activity. Most of them were happy—it was a drawing task.
“Oh, what is it?” she asked gently, pushing back her chair as the girl came closer.
The girl suddenly sat on her lap and showed her drawing. It already had two stick figures with some colors filled in. She took a deep breath and whispered shyly, “Teacher Ell… can I add my Papa to my drawing?”
Ella frowned slightly. Why would the girl need permission for that?
“Why do you ask, dear? Is there a problem if you add him?”
The girl looked down and held her paper tighter. Ella didn’t know what she was going through. She stroked the girl’s hair, then peeked at her school ID.
“Chanel. What a pretty name.” She hugged the child gently. “Draw whatever makes you happy, baby.”
“Thank you, Teacher.”
The girl smiled a little, then quickly went back to her seat and continued drawing. Ella watched her, wondering what story the child was hiding in her heart.
She realized something important: every child had feelings, struggles, and stories. She needed to be careful with her words. Here, inside the classroom, she was like their second mother. Everything she said could affect them.
She stood up and started checking the drawings.
“Angela, apples are not orange. Why are you so stubborn?”
That was Angela’s nanny scolding her. But the child didn’t mind. She was busy coloring her apple with an orange crayon.
Ella walked closer, curious. She smiled secretly—her student was a little artist.
“Angela?” she called softly. The girl looked up right away.
“Teacher!” Angela said happily, showing her paper. “See my drawing?”
Ella nodded and gently held the child’s hand. “Do you know what color an apple really is?”
Angela nodded, grinning. “Yes, Teacher. It’s red.”
“Then why are you using orange?”
The girl whispered, “It’s my Mommy’s favorite. Can I use it instead of red?”
Ella smiled. “You can. But you know, you can also draw an orange instead of an apple.”
Angela shook her head. “Apple is my Mommy’s favorite fruit.”
Ella chuckled softly. “As you wish. Good luck.”
She turned to the nanny and whispered, “Let her do it. What matters is she knows apples are red.”
“There are green apples too, Teacher,” Angela added quickly, making Ella smile even more.