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Cata ogue
Two main factors responsible for producing a change
in the physical change of a substance are temperature and pressure.
Most of the kids who go to Pontiac Middle School come from neighborhoods with names like Hobcaw Oaks, or Seaview Point, or Willow Bend—the names all ending with Plantation. Driving through the Plantation neighborhoods quickly dulls the imagination: winding streets zippered with evenly-spaced, narrow lots of two-story, rectangular boxes. Each one is framed by Azaleas and painted a tightly controlled palette: warm grays, taupes, crisp whites, the occasional robin’s egg blue or buttercup yellow. Front egresses with heavy wooden doors are typically painted black. White porch railings. Same-style rocking chairs beg passersby to come have a seat, though no one ever does.
Developers are careful to plan neighborhoods that appeal to a mix of price point customers, even though there is little discernible difference in the home exteriors. Discernible difference is something to be avoided at all cost in the coastal community, a pallor that extends into Pontiac Middle School.
*
Being principal of Pontiac Middle School saves Jason Williams from his second greatest fear: having to enter a classroom every day to mold young minds. It’s a feat he hasn’t attempted since the one short stint in a public school years ago. But his wife, Amanda, doesn’t know this. Amanda knows nothing of the particulars of Jason’s job, its daily challenges, or what it takes to be the principal of a middle school. Let alone a Science-Technology-Engineering-and-Math (STEM, for short) school. Amanda’s sense of her husband is based on assumptions about the good he is doing for students, the value he adds to their lives, the difference he is making in their world view. She clings to her assumptions.
“Morning.” Amanda depresses the Keurig handle and waits for the sound of water heating. “Want some toast?”
“No thanks. I want to get to school early this morning. Today I meet with the new science teacher, Elliot Mills.”
“You looking forward to it?”
“I am,” Jason fibs. “It’ll be good to make sure we’re on the same page.” He fills his single-cup thermos with coffee and heads for the mudroom door.
“Have a good one,” Amanda plucks an apple from the fruit bowl and tosses it to him.
Jason’s greatest fear in life is that his wife will discover him for who he truly is. That person, he believes, she couldn’t love. Not the way she loves the man she has conjured in her mind. To preserve his principalship, and by extension their marriage, Jason has narrowed his priorities to keeping parents of Pontiac students happy and managing perception of the school’s STEM program. Academic test scores—what Downtown administration cares about most—are third in importance to him. On that score, clever of him to set up Pontiac teachers as a buffer between him and Downtown. This frees Jason to cow-tow to parents and keep tabs on the STEM program head, a paid consultant whose fundraising experience far surpasses anything related to science or math.
*
Elliot Mills scans the principal’s office. Books fill carefully stacked white cubes that wallpaper the far end of the room. Elliot wonders how many of the books the forty-something middle school principal has read. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the school drop-off and pick-up lot. Two tall, straight-back wooden chairs face the principal’s desk; two because only the most egregious school behavior requires both student and parents to attend the interventional meeting. Wooden because it’s best not to have anyone get too comfortable. Maybe he’ll ask Principal Williams which books are his favorites.
“Elliot, hello,” Jason bustles into his office and extends a handshake to Elliot. “Sorry I’m late. I had to stop by the STEM office before dismissal.”
“No problem.”
“I wanted us to meet briefly to see how you’re settling in. How is your classroom?”
“Good. I’m enjoying getting to know the kids.”
“Have everything you need?”
“So far, yes sir.”
“How’s it going? working with the science teachers on your team.”
“Great,” Elliot lied. It isn’t that he has a problem with the teachers on his team. “We meet once a week.” Hazel is a petite sandy-haired woman whose fine, sharp features and timid demeanor bring to mind a songbird. Lynette is a no-nonsense-get-it-done type whose husband is out of town a lot which leaves managing their three kids and home largely up to her. Stewart is a balding, but trim, forty-something who follows sports and everything wearing a skirt. It isn’t the sixth grade curriculum that troubles Elliot; he taught middle school science in Massachusetts for eight years before moving here. It’s the team’s lesson plans and teaching materials that give him pause: hard copies of multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank worksheets that demand little more of the students than rote memorization of fundamental science vocabulary.
“That’s good. It’s important that you and they work together. As you know, our curriculum is set by the administration. Downtown is very keen on student proficiency.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” Elliot hasn’t seen the likes of Xerox copy worksheets since his own kids were in third grade. How on earth can he be expected to imprint the principles of science—the magnitude of the universe, Newtonian physics, cause and effect relationships—in the minds of eleven-year-olds using an eight-and-a-half by eleven sheet of paper and zero imagination?
“Good, good. Then, the only other point I need to make is the importance of consistency across classrooms. I don’t need to tell you about chain reaction behavior. You understand what I’m saying? The ruckus inconsistency could cause.”
“I do, sir.” On second thought, maybe he didn’t need to ask the principal how many of the books he’d read. Best to rely on his own observations.
“Excellent. We’re off to a good start then, Elliot. Thank you for staying late. I’m glad we took this time to talk.”
Jason watches Elliot close the office door behind him. He knows Elliot’s credentials are top notch; that’s why he hired him. But somehow, he isn’t so sure. He can’t pinpoint it, but he has a nagging sense that Elliot Mills isn’t going to be a team player. Not like Hazel and Lynette and Stewart. Something tells him there will be problems. Jason makes a note to ask Mrs. Riggsley to set the HR wheels in motion for Mills to complete the state’s rigorous—some say punitive—teacher assessment program. That’ll be a good orientation to what’s expected of teachers here, Jason tells himself and harrumphs. Ask Riggsley tomorrow, he writes and underlines tomorrow.
*
The next morning, Elliot is pumped. Mr. Williams’ pep talk yesterday stoked his determination. Elliot leans against the blackboard watching all 26 middle schoolers bounce into the classroom and tumble into their seats. He crosses his ankles and waits for the commotion to die down.
“Good morning everyone.”
Twenty-six faces turn in his direction.
“Everybody settled?”
In chorus, “Yes, Mr. Mills.”
“So on Monday I asked you to write 300 words about yourself—which I’m sure you will all be doing this weekend—to help me get to know you a little better. So I think it’s only fair now to say a few words about myself. Everyone ok with getting to know me better?”
Twenty-five heads nod affirmative. Gazes fix on Elliot.
“First, I teach science because science is important. You may not realize it, but science touches every aspect of your life. The metabolic pressure that forces blood through your veins. The string of zeros and ones—the code—that makes your cell phones work. The gravitational forces that produce waves at the beach. Lady bugs that eat bad insects, so we have fresh vegetables to eat. But I’m sure some of you would be just as happy without those.”
Moans and giggles.
“So science pretty much rules our world. Science accounts for our survival—and conversely our demise. Hold that thought. You’re going to need it later this year.” Elliot gives two girls seated near the door a moment to finish taking notes. “Everybody good?”
Several students give the thumbs up.
“Secondly, I teach middle school because I believe your generation is the one that will make a difference in this world. The injustices you see. The curiosities you chase. These are the drivers of change. Change is born inside your hearts and minds. My job is not to teach you what to think, to fill your brains with a bunch of facts and figures. My job is to teach you how to think, to stimulate your hearts and minds to want to know more. Still with me?”
One hand shoots up.
“Yes, Mr…” Elliot checks the seating roster. “…DeWitt?”
“Does that mean you won’t be giving us pop quizzes and tests, Mr. Mills?”
“No. It means, in addition to quizzes and tests, I will be giving you assignments and we’ll be doing class projects that allow you to experience science and see how scientific principles work. Any other questions?” Elliot spends the remainder of class fielding questions about what topics they’ll be covering in the first semester, how to earn extra credit, what happens if you turn in work late, who his favorite sports team is, and what kind of music he likes.
“Ok, that’s it. Don’t forget. Monday morning, 300 words about yourself on my desk.”
*
______________________________
Penelope Moore
by not Penelope Moore
It’s not easy being eleven years old. It’s even harder being Penelope Moore. Frogs, green anoles with bubblegum pink necks, honey bees (Italian ones because they’re nicer), her mom’s spanakopita, Druckhardt’s hot cocoa, hanging with her Granpops Mike (who told her to write these 300 words as if she’s writing about someone else, not herself), Artemis Fowl books, Calvin and Hobbs comics (especially the black and white ones her grandfather collects), animated movies like Up and Ants: these are the things that interest Penelope Moore. Not hair or clothes or making TikTok videos or talking about boys. All the things that 99 percent of the other girls who go to Pontiac Middle School care about. But that’s okay.
Penelope Moore doesn’t mind that she doesn’t fit in. What she does care about is not drawing attention to herself. She hates it when people pay attention to her. It’s like moving a rock that has a bug underneath and the bug goes scurrying. That’s what she wants to do when someone tries to draw her out. Scurry.
Having to write three HUNDRED words about herself feels kind of like that, like someone just moved the rock she’s been hiding under. So here she goes, scurrying to find cover. What is okay to write? What should she tell about herself? What does anybody want to know about her? Even if she knew what Mr. Mills wants her to say, most likely she wouldn’t say it. Definitely not if it isn’t true. Because if there’s one thing she does know, it’s that nothing is more important than the truth. But when it’s the truth about yourself, the trick is knowing what that is. Penelope Moore hasn’t quite figured that out, yet. Sorry Mr. Mills. But she’s only eleven years old. There’s time.
______________________________
Elliot circles the words, by not Penelope Moore, and scribbles a note in the margin: So who is this person? Can I meet her? He smiles and places Penelope’s assignment in the finished stack. He reaches for another student’s assignment when Mrs. Riggsley appears at his door.
“Knock, knock. Is this a good time?”
“Sure, come on in, Mrs. Riggsley.” Elliot puts down the paper work. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“I just came to see if you have any questions about our conversation this morning. I know it was a lot.”
“It was…is…a lot…of documentation. But, I get it,” Elliot quickly adds. “The district wants to know precisely how I plan to conduct myself in the classroom.”
“It’s…well…it’s more they want to know you will conduct yourself a certain way.”
“Yes. I’m definitely getting that sense.”
“And here at Pontiac, Principal Williams is very intent on the learning experience being consistent across classrooms. So if I may offer some advice? work with your team teachers and follow their lead with lesson plans and you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Riggsley. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Driving home that afternoon, Elliot fights with himself. No way can he be a good teacher by sticking to the Pontiac Middle School status quo. If he can’t get the teachers on his team to join him and try some new teaching methods, then what? Where does that leave the kids? What will dumbing himself down do to him?
*
Weeks pass. Elliot, Hazel, Lynette, and Stewart run through standard lesson plans on the planetary system, rock formation, particle behavior, and Newton’s laws of motion. Every night Elliot returns home from school feeling numb. What difference is he making in these kids’ lives? What can he do to engage them, to make science light up their minds—without lighting Mr. Williams’ ire? They’re smart kids. Penelope’s 300-word essay and her budding interest in earth science come to mind. They’re capable of so much more. Why hasn’t she, why haven’t they called him out on the big speech he gave in the first weeks of school? All that talk about class projects and teaching them how to think, not what to think. Elliot hates feeling like an imposter. He hates being made to feel he’s cheating these kids. He flips through the sixth grade science calendar to see what unit comes next: the human impact on climate. Elliot scoffs. “It’ll be even worse for the planet,” he says to the open calendar page, “if we keep pretending what we’re doing is enough to make kids care.”
*
Principal Williams strolls down the hallway toward his office door, pleased the school year is nearing its end.
“Today’s the big day,” his administrative assistant, Mrs. O’Toole, chirps as he enters the office.
“What day is that, Mrs. O’Toole?”
“The day of the big presentation by Mr. Mills’ sixth grade science class, down in the school cafeteria? I assumed you knew.”
“Yes, I’m aware. I just don’t think of it being…the big day…as you say.”
“People from NOAH, the Climate Coalition, the Sea Grant Consortium…they’re all here to see the presentations. They’ve been here since seven-thirty this morning. Some of the kids even earlier.”
“Where’s Mills?”
“In the cafeteria getting the kids situated and helping George set up chairs for everyone.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“There’s quite a crowd forming down there…the kids’ parents and family members, the other science teachers. O’ and I almost forgot. A young man, a Steven Lindstrom, called. He’s a reporter from Channel 10. They want to do a story for the six o’clock news.”
“The six o’clock news,” Jason Williams chortled. “How’d the TV station get wind of this?!”
“I don’t know, sir. Mills, maybe? One of the parents? I wasn’t sure of the protocol for news coverage. I told him he’d have to talk to you. I said you’d call him back soon as you get in. Here’s his number. They’re on a deadline.”
*
Cafeteria tables folded flat lean against one side of the cavernous room. Chairs set up in rows form two wide semi-circles that flank the center aisle. Banquet tables, covered with white paper and set with microphones, designate the panel of subject matter experts. At the center of the panel and two feet closer to the audience, a massive wooden podium stands firm like a bouncer watching over the event. Elliot steps up to the podium, adjusts the microphone, and grips the lectern sides, “Good morning, everyone.”
Two hundred and thirty-some-odd faces look his way.
“Wow,” Elliot surveys the audience. All of the sixth grade science teachers are seated with their first-period students. “It’s great to see so many of you here this morning for our exploration into climate change, our impact on it and its impact on us.” Elliot shifts his weight. “First, I want to thank our esteemed panel members for making the time to be with us today.” Elliot nods to the panel. “They’ll be introducing themselves in just a moment.” Elliot pauses. “You know, today our world is…” Elliot straightens. “Climate change. It’s such a BIG topic, isn’t it? It is for me. Climate change took everything from my parents during Hurricane Florence. My childhood home. Their neighbors, friends. For me, climate change is real. It’s personal. Its effects are overwhelming. Immobilizing, really.” He picks out parents, siblings and grandparents of the students. “Way too large a topic for us ordinary citizens to wrap our brains around, right?” Elliot sighs. He sees George and the building maintenance crew, off to the side. “But these kids,…by deepening their understanding of the problem, these kids have dismantled its magnitude. They’ve made it approachable.” Elliot bows to the students. “I applaud each and every one of you and the significant, semester-long effort you’ve put into your presentations.” Elliot turns to the students seated across the front row. “These eighteen presenters…their work represents the very best of my entire sixth grade science class of a hundred-and-four students.” Elliot waits for the applause to fade. He spies school nurses, secretaries, cafeteria ladies sans hair nets. He flashes a proud grin at the presenters. “Last but not least, I want to recognize the audience,” Elliot scans the room full of faces. There’s Assistant Principal Tallisman,…Mrs. O’Toole,…Mr. Mitchell, the head of the STEM program. Mrs. Riggsley, standing near the door, cracks a bashful smile. Elliot nods back at her. “This type of forum is a first for Pontiac Middle School.” But no Principal Williams. “I’m confident it won’t be the last. Because of all of you.”
***
