The Idealists: Part XI

Painting by Noeleen Armstrong Kish


The Idealists – Part XI

Ruthie wakes from a dream of watching the sun rise over the Chesapeake Bay with Derick the morning after her wedding. She slides out of bed without waking him while it’s still dark out and stumbles to the bathroom. When she’s done retching, the sun is out and Derick is yelling that it’s time to go to class.

‘A block’ is a senior level English class. It’s four weeks until graduation, and over half of them don’t have their homework. She makes a quiz on the spot, and they spend the last fifteen minutes of class failing it. Her B block whines for the first five minutes about the weather until she makes up an in-class essay assignment on the spot and sends them to the library to use the computers. By C block, she has a quiz ready.

At lunch, she’s starving, so she eats her salad in her office while submitting resumes online. Derick drops by to check on her, and she cries for several minutes until the bell rings to signal the start of the next class.

“It’s a rough time,” Derick says. “Everyone’s antsy because we’re so close to graduation.”

“I know that,” Ruthie says. “But I’m sick of it.”

“I thought it was your dream to teach,” Derick says.

“It was. It is,” Ruthie says, “but not now. At least not here. These kids are just…there’s something wrong with them. I don’t want to raise a child around them.”

“You’re sure it isn’t hormones?” Derick asks.

She throws a book at his head and misses.

The next morning, Ruthie wakes again to queasiness. When she’s done, she sends more resumes online until classes start. She walks into her E block class, ready for war.

“You’re glowing, Mrs. Stone,” a girl named Donyae says.

“You are. You look so pretty these days,” another says.

They spend the next few minutes doting on her before focusing on their work. F block is her free period, and G is her senior honors class, which is her favorite. After lunch, Derick drops by her office again.

“I put in some applications at a couple places,” he says.

“Why?” Ruthie asks.

Derick stares at her.

“I’m not leaving,” Ruthie says. “I love it here.”

Derick nods slowly and then smiles. “So it was hormones,” he says.

She glares for a moment and then smiles. Derick turns to go, and that’s when the book hits him in the back of the head.


C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on Troubadour 21