The Teachers' Room by Lydia Stryk

Author:Lydia Stryk [Stryk, Lydia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bywater Books
Published: 2022-05-17T00:51:59+00:00

26

We’ve filed down to the basement to watch a National Geographic special on the stars and planets. I seat my children, then move to the projector at the back of the small room to wait for Esther and her class who are to join us. They’re late as usual, rushing in breathless, Esther behind them.

When the lights go down, we lean against the wall so close our arms and hips touch and without thinking our fingers intertwine. The projector room is pitch black; no one can stop us. But our bliss is short-lived. The door opens, casting a long shadow, and Will sidles over to warn us of the impending disaster drill. His breath is stale and reeks of tobacco.

“Duck and cover, children,” we call out as the alarm bell sounds. There are protests and a couple of moans, and cries of pain as they bang their knees and heads, but they’re all scrambling dutifully onto all fours and under the projector room chairs as best they can. “Hands over your heads,” we remind them, an undertaking that requires considerable effort and a contortionist’s talent, but eventually, they’re more or less in place. Lydie’s found her way under the same chair as Janie, which is quite a feat and against the rules, but I pretend not to notice.

Most of the children take Duck and Cover in their stride, whispering and giggling and generally enjoying the disruption of routine. But little Alan comes up to me after the drill with a troubled expression. He doesn’t like the atom bomb, he says, and he has questions. He wants to know more about “the bright flash that is brighter than the sun, brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, that could knock you down, throw you against a tree or a building and burn your skin worse than a terrible sunburn,” as they’ve learned from the Civil Defense film we showed them last week. He’s been thinking about it all week, he says. He’s skeptical because, even if you duck and cover, wouldn’t you die anyway? Yes, Alan, you would be sure to die, I almost say, but stop myself. Instead, I promise him answers in class tomorrow and pat his soft, shaved head.

• • •

I’m standing at the bookcase in the teachers’ room when Esther comes in.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, joining me.

“Inspiration. A way to talk to the children about atomic destruction.”

“Oh!” she says. “You won’t find it here, I’m afraid.” She lets her jeweled fingers wander across the spines of teaching manuals and studies in developmental psychology from the first half of the century, and I feel my own spine tingling.

“I want them to know the truth about the bomb, Esther.”

“Well, tread carefully, darling.”

We’re alone today, a rarity. Irene’s rushed off for her dentist appointment. Louise has recess duty.

“Alan wants to know. I promised him an answer tomorrow. The children deserve an explanation.”

“Of course. That’s something I love about you. Your sense of dedication. The trick is to find the right words.

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