Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Kaitlyn shook her head. “You are. And my parents are getting a divorce. Not that anyone cares, but I hate everything happy.”
“Oh, Kaitlyn.” Her friend group erupted into sympathetic noises, group hugs, and more than a few tears.
“Kaitlyn. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Mine got divorced last year.” One of the boys spoke up. “It’s been okay.”
“It’s never gonna be okay again.” Kaitlyn looked ready to go on the attack, and I was in danger of losing the class altogether.
I clapped my hands together.
“Then we’ll sing angry songs. Mad songs. Sad songs.” Reaching for my phone and speaker, I cued up my personal playlist for wallowing in my feels, the one I’d had on repeat since New Year’s Eve. “Let’s get mad.”
“What?” Wrinkling up her face, Kaitlyn stared at me. “We don’t have to sing this sort of stuff. It’s okay. I can try the other song.”
“No, you made an excellent point.” I met her pained eyes before sweeping my gaze over the room. “Music is not simply for when we feel good or to make our audience feel good. It’s to feel, full stop. Sometimes, it feels better to rage in a song or cry or shout than to sit with those big emotions. Some days, you simply need an angry anthem.”
I pushed Play on another song and let one of my personal mad at the world favorites fill the courtyard. A hush descended over the kids as they listened, eyes going wider.
“I know this song. It has a curse word.”
“More like a curse verse.” Liam K. was quick as ever.
“You’d let us sing like that?” Kaitlyn asked quietly, a softness coming over her features.
I considered for a moment all my careful plans for this unit and the buildup to the spring showcase. Then, I mentally lit those plans on fire.
“Yeah. Yes, I would.” For once, my impulsiveness was an asset. “In fact, that’s what we’re going to try.” I glanced at my watch. Darn it. The period was about to end. “Tomorrow, come to class mad. We’re gonna let it all out.”
After the bell rang, Kaitlyn was last to leave the courtyard to join the rush toward the lockers for the end of the school day.
“Thank you, Mr. Bell. You didn’t have to be so nice to me.” She looked down at her black sneakers with pink laces. “And we don’t have to sing something angry tomorrow only for me.”
“Oh, I’m going to have fun finding the loudest, angriest songs for all of us.” I smiled until she gave me a tiny one in return. “And thank you. You provided an excellent reminder that we don’t always need to hide behind a happy mask or cheerful song. Sometimes, we’re sad. Sometimes, life sucks. And that’s okay.”
Kaitlyn exhaled so hard her bangs ruffled. “It’s okay to not be okay, like that poster in the hall says.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s okay to have a bad day or a whole bad month.” I bent slightly so I could meet her gaze again. “And I don’t know everything that’s happening at home, but I know you have a lot of people here who care about you and are ready to listen anytime. Like me.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave a sharp nod before turning toward the cafeteria entrance to the building. At the last moment, though, she tossed off a hurried, “Thank you.”
“Wow.” Applauding slowly, Principal Alana made her way to me. She wore a long purple-themed floral dress and her hair was swept into a white clip. She looked crisply elegant, while I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champion.
“Um. You heard that?” I gestured vaguely.
“You’ve taken over the courtyard.” She chuckled, not sounding particularly put out that I’d vacated my assigned classroom. “I like the sound of singing filtering into my office, but I heard the raised voices at the end of your class. I came to see if you needed help. But you had it handled.”
“Did I?” I’d been prepared to say sorry for sharing my playlist with the kids, but she continued to smile up at me. “It’s so hard to know what to say or do.”
“You did perfectly.” The principal touched my arm. “You’re what these kids need, Nolan. You’re authentic and responsive. Can’t ask for more than that.”
“I promised them angry music.” I quirked my lips, offering an apology with my eyes. “It might get loud.”
“Good.” Principal Alana used her firm school-assembly voice. “This is a middle school. A real one, not As Seen on TV. We get messy and loud here, and sometimes, like today, we just might make a difference.”
“Because that’s why we teach.” I sank onto a nearby picnic bench.
“Yep.” She sat next to me. “Look, I know you haven’t had the easiest start this term, but these kids need you. The school needs you. I’ve been worried you’d ask out of your agreement to substitute, but today made me hopeful again. You’re finding your sea legs, so to speak.”