I press the pen hard between my fingers as I note this next to Rivky’s name. How do they all know everything about everyone?
Mrs. Fertig has a mug with the words Your Principal Is Your Pal sitting on her desk. I remember staring at it back when I sat here for my interview last spring, wondering if she meant it to refer to the students or the teachers. Right now, Mrs. Lipshitz and Mrs. Engel, the other second grade mechanchos, certainly appear at ease with the principal, making small talk about their families’ Succos experiences. I pull on a strand of hair and cross my ankles awkwardly.
“Chavi.” Mrs. Fertig turns to me, and I give a little jump. I see Mrs. Lipshitz hide a smile, and I want to melt in shame.
“Why don’t we start with you? Let’s get an update on your students. How have they been adjusting to the new school year, now that we’re post-Yamim Tovim?”
I uncross my ankles and pull out a notepad. Mrs. Lipshitz throws Mrs. Engel a tiny smirk, and I stiffen. What? Does writing down my notes scream “new kid on the block”?
Create a free account to keep reading.
