2019-12-16 - Four More Days

At lunch, the teacher lounge is a noisy place, between the teachers arguing or laughing and the microwave constantly humming or beeping, the television set playing the midday news and other commotions. During the rest of the day, it's much more peaceful. One or two teachers might pop in for a snack or to get away from their own classrooms for a bit for whatever reasons.

And then there's the coaches who don't have their own office or their own classroom. That's the category that Max falls into, so he's sitting at one of the tables filling out paperwork, probably related to hockey. Most of what he does is related to hockey, though he has been known to substitute teach once in a while. He's not the best sub -- he's the sub the kids like, but teachers don't.

There's always noise outside the teacher's lounge when there are kids in the hall, of course -- that has been established. Right now, though, there's a little bit more than usual -- two voices, one adult and one decidedly teenage. The words can't be made out very well, until the door cracks open, like the adult is probably trying to end the conversation.

"...don't care at this point, Henry," the adult voice says as the door opens a little way. "You've come in with excuse after excuse, and frankly I spend way too much of my time arguing with you about why you haven't turned in your assignment. You can turn it in late for a lower grade like everyone else. The policy hasn't changed. Now I'm going to eat lunch. See you tomorrow." Though it certainly isn't said enthusiastically.

With that, the door opens and Levi steps quickly into the room, closing the door behind him. "Good lord," he breathes, shaking his head, though his eyes fall on Max as soon as he looks around. "Oh, hey Max."

Max glances up as the sounds from outside grow louder as the door swings open. He smiles when Levi steps in. "It's a lot easier when you can make them do laps when they don't do what you want," he says, his tone one of commiseration. Sports are easier because the kids want to be there, at least. He knows his job is the easier of the two.

"What was the excuse this time? They can get pretty creative. Mrs. Angelo was telling me someone asked for an extension because their parakeet died last week. Never heard that one before. " Max sets his pen down and stretches out his arm, a snap-crackle-pop of joints clicking back into place when he does so. "Four more days, after today. You going anywhere for the holidays?"

"If only," Levi agrees with a little chuckle. "I could try to make them run around their desks, but I feel like they'd probably just look at me funny." He starts toward the coffee maker, grabbing a cup from the rack beside it and pouring the last of it into the cup, before he takes a long drink. Once he's swallowed, he lets out a sigh of satisfaction, and he turns to lean against the counter, looking at Max.

"Dead parakeet, huh? I've never heard that one, either. This kid was apparently forced by his parents to go see the remake of Pet Semetary. Literally dragged him kicking and screaming, to hear him tell it." He rolls his eyes, "This is after last week where he had to go pick up his friend from the mall because he'd broken up with his girlfriend and she left him there. Like I don't know that they're still together. I have to pass them making out every day on the way to my classroom." As for the last question, he shakes his head. "Not this year. I just need to relax. You?"

"You must need the caffeine. That stuff has to taste like burnt rubber at this point," Max says with a chuckle at the sigh of satisfaction. To the query, he shakes his head. "There's a tournament we have to prep for, so a few practices, but holiday-light. A lot of them are out of town so I can't work them like I'd like to. But that's high school for you." He lifts a shoulder. "I'll just try to enjoy the vacation I guess. I don't really like having nothing to do, though. Gets me in trouble."

He smiles a little wryly, and stacks his paperwork together. "They do forget teachers actually know the other people they involve in their lies, right? Especially when it involves another teacher. Like we don't know one another and can't ask about the story the next time we see each other. This one kid tried to tell Gillespie he was late because I stopped him in the hall to talk to him about the hockey game, but Gillespie knew I wasn't even at work that day." He shakes his head. "I mean, I can't blame them that much. I was pretty much the same way. You? Or were you a good kid?"

"It's terrible," Levi agrees with another laugh, this one a bit wry. He reaches for the empty pot to remove it, though, taking it out to clean it and make some more like a good citizen. This, perhaps, might answer Max's question better than an actual answer! "Well, if you want to go out for a drink or something, let me know," he says. "Like I said, I'll be around. Family stuff on the day, of course, but other than that I'm pretty free."

He pours the water in, changing the grounds and turning the machine one before he turns back to Max again. "Right?" he continues, before his eyes widen at the brazenness of that particular lie. "Kids really are ridiculous," he says. "But no, I was way too big of a nerd to try anything like that. I had my own ridiculous crap going on, but it didn't usually involve trying to put one over on teachers."

Max watches Levi clean the carafe and raises a brow. "You are the first person I've seen clean that thing after being the last one to use it. Honestly? I just won't drink the last cup so I don't have to be the one to do it," he admits, grinning a bit crookedly as he makes that particular confession.

"We all had ridiculous crap going on, I think. It's part of being young. I wasn't the worst kid, mostly because I was afraid of not getting to play if I got caught. But I definitely was more about sports and girls than school. See how that turned out," he says, lifting a hand to gesture around the lounge. "Back in school." He smiles. "No offense though. I actually like it, now I've adjusted a bit. Just not what I expected to be doing at this point in my life."

He leans back in his chair. "A drink would be good. I haven't really made any of those healthy adult friendships yet, to be honest. Being new to town and all. It's a weird place to come in without knowing many people. Everyone seems to have known each other since kindergarten."

Levi lets out another wry laugh, and he shrugs, grabbing his mug and going to sit down at Max's table, though he's careful not to disturb any of the papers. "Yeah," he admits, "I think I might be the only teacher in this place who does. See? Brown noser." He gestures to himself as he leans back, reaching for his cup again to take another sip. His smile tilts a little crookedly as well at the irony of Max being back here, and he says, "That sucks, man. Those who can't do, right?" Though it's said as a joke, since of course, he's also here, isn't he?

He gets a little more serious at the last part, though, and he nods. "Yeah, I could see that. We are kind of insular. But most of us are pretty nice. So yeah, just let me know." He pauses, before he asks, "What did you do before this?"

Max shakes his head. "Don't buy into that," he says, at the ironic use of the adage. "You real teachers are the real deal."

He chuckles at the question of what he did before, glancing down at the stack of paperwork before he looks back up. "Hockey. Screwed it up like a dumbass. That's why I try to make sure my players know I won't stand for bad grades. They need to be able to do something else when they don't make it to the big time. Or if they do, when they throw it out the window like I did." He lifts a shoulder, clearly not looking for sympathy or recognition. "What about you, you always wanna be a teacher?"

Levi's slightly crooked smile softens into something more genuine, and he replies, "Thanks. But hey, you're a real teacher, too. Extracurriculars are important." And he does actually sound like he means it, not just like he's saying it to be nice.

He finishes off the coffee, setting the cup aside and leaning back again, just enough for two of the feet to come up off the ground. His eyebrows raise when his question is answered, his eyes moving over the other man briefly, as though he could figure out exactly what happened before he looks back up. "Wow," he says, "I'm sorry." And again, it sounds sincere, not just like something one says. "I did always want to be a teacher. It took me a little while to get there because I was working through college, but I did it eventually. I'm pretty happy, honestly. Some of the kids make me want to tear my hair out, but they're mostly pretty good."

"Eh. We coaches don't save the world or anything, but it's good to have the kids put their excess energy into something somewhat healthy, right?" Max says. "But they say sometimes it's the thing that keeps them in school so you guys can teach them the important stuff. I'm happy to do that. I know most of my players aren't going to go on to play even in college, let alone the minor leagues. I'll try not to put all my former self's expectations of glory on their shoulders." His grin turns broader. "Most of them can barely carry their equipment bags, let alone that sort of burden, right? I swear a couple of them are seventh graders ringing for varsity for some reason."

They definitely aren't all cut out for hockey.

"History, right? That's one of those classes that kids either love or hate, if I remember right. Usually depended on the teacher for me. I had some good ones. Don't quiz me, though. I've forgotten most of what I learned," he quips.

"It is the thing sometimes," Levi agrees. "Which is good. And you keep them motivated, help them learn discipline, time management with practice and everything. Perseverance. Those are all good things." It may be becoming more and more clear why he had chosen to be a teacher, honestly. "But yeah, probably good if you keep your expectations low. I don't know how many superstar anythings come out of Gray Harbor."

He reaches for his empty cup again to turn it around in his hand absently, continuing, "Yeah, history. I won't quiz you now, but be ready when we go out, because I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm drunk." He grins, adding, "I'm doing one section of AP this year and it's keeping me sane. Of course, if the scores don't hold up it's back to all 9th grade for me." There's a look of mild horror when he says this, even though it's not too bad.

"Oh, shit. About that drink... I think I'm busy that night," says Max with a laugh. Of course, they never nailed down a night. "Maybe washing my hair. It takes hours. You don't even wanna know." His hand comes up to brush through his fairly short waves.

"Ninth graders. I can't even imagine dealing with them all the time. Subbing once in a while is one thing, but... were we really ever that immature?" Max shakes his head, eyes widening a bit. "I mean, I know all the baby boomers who gripe about millennials think we're the worst at adulting -- their fault, by the way -- but we weren't that bad. I fear for the future."

Levi shoots Max a look of feigned distress, replying, "No, stay, new friend!" He reaches a hand out toward Max dramatically, his other hand clutching his chest, but he can't seem to keep that up for long and he laughs. "No history quizzing. Unless we do trivia night, but we can save that for when there's really nothing else to do."

He nods, though, at the last part. "I swear they get worse every year," he agrees as he takes his cup to the sink -- to wash it, of course. Because that's how he rolls. "Worse behaved and less prepared. I don't understand it. Unless I just forget every August, but I don't think I'm that good at blocking things out. If so, I wish I could do it on command because there's other stuff I'd like to block out before that." It's said as a joke, though, not as an intro to anything more serious.

"Sure you don't teach drama?" says Max with a laugh. "Okay, I won't skip out just yet. But the first whiff of a history test, I'm outta here, unless it's on the Stanley Cup or something. Trivia night I'd probably suck at unless, well, it's on the Stanley Cup or something. I don't really keep many other trivial facts in my head."

The rest draws another shake of the head from the hockey coach. "I like subbing because I don't have to grade papers most of the time and it's always a new class the next day. You ever teach the little kids where you have the same group of peewees all day long? I don't know how anyone can do that and stay sane. At least when you have high school kids, you only have to put up with the worst of them for an hour. Coaching, usually it's a few hours at a time, and again, those kids generally want to be there. And again, I can always assign them laps."

"I know," Levi replies, "I missed my true calling." He rinses out the cup, setting it in the drying rack as he looks over his shoulder at Max. The thought of teaching tiny children has him giving another somewhat horrified look. "God no," he says, shaking his head. "I think I'd probably have a breakdown by the end of the first week. I can barely handle block schedule for finals."

He might have said more, but just then, the bell rings, and he looks up with a little sigh. "Let's see what interesting new excuses these ones come up with for why they haven't done their crap," he says. "I almost wish someone would just say, 'Mr. Jones, it's almost winter break and I just didn't feel like it.' I could kind of respect that." He grins, lifting a hand as he starts toward the door. "I'll see you," he says. "Four more days!"

"Four more days," repeats Max. It's a mantra that will get them through the rest of this day, at least. "Godspeed. And yeah, a little honesty is always better than a pointless lie, right?"

He lifts a hand in farewell, then picks up his pen to continue working on the paperwork he'd abandoned. And maybe he'll make himself a cup of coffee, since he won't have to clean it now that Levi's done him a favor of drinking the last cup in the last pot.