I ignored the tray of stale cookies as I reached for a mug and poured old, lukewarm coffee into it. While the other teachers were chatting cheerfully in the lounge before classes, I needed every bit of strength I could muster. If I could just quickly get my coffee and slip back out into the hall—

“Ah, Mr. Nolan!”

I jumped as I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. My coffee sloshed over the brim of the mug, dripping onto the counter. Quickly, I tore off a sheet of paper towel, sopping up the mess. “M-Mr. McMillan. Good morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry my dear boy, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“I-It’s okay!” I said nervously as I brushed a hand over my sweater vest, looking down to see if it had spilled on me. ‘Safe,’ I thought, relieved I wouldn’t start the day with a large stain on my chest. No doubt the many tiny humans would have pointed it out throughout the day.

There was a deep laugh as the large, round man with a balding head gave me an arrogant stare. “Someone’s nervous this morning! Not that I blame you. I hear that you have your work cut out for you today! Hope you don’t have any trouble with the transfer student. Sounds like she’s going to be quite the handful,” he said, smirking as he eyed me with a raised brow.

I pushed my glasses up my slightly hooked nose, brushing long dark locks out of my eyes. I felt annoyance eat at my calm, polite demeanor. “I’m sure I can handle it. Thank you, Mr. McMillan.”

I just wanted to get to my classroom.

After a few painful moments of listening to the man talk down at me--and my willpower constantly being tested--I managed to excuse myself, escaping from the toxic atmosphere that was the teacher’s lounge. I sighed, holding my coffee mug carefully as I walked towards the classroom, files and color-coded folders tucked neatly under my arm.

Away from the judgment and vibrant complaints of the other teachers, I could focus my attention on preparing for five-year-old Maya Hayes.

‘Hayes…’ I pushed the thought away. It was such a common last name, and it wasn’t the name that mattered; it was the fact that at such a young age this little girl had gone through the trauma of losing her mother--and after such a short time…

I unlocked the classroom door, walking over to my desk, and placing down the files. I sighed, looking around the room at the small, artificial campfire and pillow-like faux marshmallows, under a large plastic tree; the art station that was stocked with washable markers, crayons, and construction paper. There were children’s chairs and tables arranged precisely around the room and large bins of building blocks at the back near the cubbies.

While I usually spent over an hour each night tidying, I knew that as soon as the national anthem finished, all my efforts at an orderly classroom would be undone within seconds.

I removed a black permanent marker from the top drawer of my desk, as well as a large rectangular sticker that was covered in holographic butterflies. ‘MAYA,’ I wrote, carrying it over to the cubbies. I pressed it over the top of an empty cubby, smiling at it, hoping that it would be welcoming.

I spent the rest of my morning going over my plans and organizing the daily activities. ‘It will be fine,’ I told myself nervously, checking the large clock above the door. Though I’d been a teacher for several years now, never had I had the challenge of teaching someone like Maya. And I wanted to be my best for her.

With a deep breath, I rose from my desk, opening the door before waiting next to it.

As the front doors to the school opened I felt myself laugh, hearing the excited screams over the stampede of winter boots and the rustling of jackets.

“No running!” I shouted, seeing most of the children immediately slow their pace and walk over to the classroom. Some, however, continued to barrel down the hall, too excited to listen.

“Morning Mista Nolan!” a small dark-haired girl said as she rushed past me in a whirlwind to her cubby.

“Good morning Leah--Hey! Inside footsteps!” I called, watching twenty-two little ones swarm to their cubbies and tear off their jackets eagerly. I suddenly felt incredibly outnumbered and was thankful that, for the most part, they seemed to like me well enough not to turn on me.

As I picked up the attendance sheet, looking over it, I waited for the students to settle in their seats. I glanced at the door anxiously; there was no new shy face, no small footsteps… I peered out into the hall. As I scanned it, looking towards the office, I was able to catch a glimpse of a small auburn-haired girl standing with a tall man. They were half-concealed behind posters plastered over the glass front, but I would give anything to bet that little girl was my missing Maya Hayes.

After taking attendance, I heard a small knock on the open door. I looked over, seeing the bright-eyed, shy face of the small girl from the office. “Alright everyone, quiet coloring time for a moment,” I said, knowing that there was no way for coloring time to quench the curiosity of the tiny humans.

I walked over to where the girl stood in the hall, kneeling in front of her. “Are you Miss Maya?” I asked, making sure to keep my voice calm and gentle, smiling as softly as I could.

She looked upset and nervous, something common for young children’s first days at school. She nodded, not saying anything.

I smiled a little more, trying to be encouraging. “Well, welcome Maya. My name is Mr. Nolan.”