O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

BETH

“ V imy Ridge was a big hill in France that was very important during the First World War. Many other countries tried to capture it, but no one could—until the Canadians came along. Our soldiers worked together, planned carefully, and on April 9th, 1917, they attacked. They fought bravely for days, and even though it was tough and scary, they didn’t give up. In the end, they captured the hill.”

I stare into twenty-four mesmerised faces as they look from me to the black and white pictures I’ve put on the smart board at the front of the classroom. The soldiers in the grainy photographs look so young that some of the children in the room could have older siblings the same age.

“This battle helped shape Canada into the country we know today. It was the first time all four Canadian divisions fought together, and it made people realise that Canada was a strong, independent nation.”

A hand in the second row shoots up and I smile at the young girl it belongs to. “Yes, Amelia? ”

“Were they really happy that they won?” Her pink scrunchie sits on top of her head like a crown.

I pause before answering. War is a hard subject for adults to truly comprehend, so it’s very difficult for children to grasp the enormity of it.

“It was a very important win for the Allies, so I’m sure they were happy, in some sense. But you have to remember that they were also very sad. More than three thousand Canadian soldiers alone died fighting in the battle.”

A bell chimes and the kids immediately start to put their school supplies away and prepare to go home. I look at my watch in complete disbelief. My first day absolutely flew by!

I know from my notes that once my students change into their outdoor shoes I’m to accompany them to the buses. The kids getting drives will meet their parents in the designated pick-up areas.

A flurry of new faces hustle by waving goodbye to me as they go.

“See you tomorrow, Miss Michaels!” Amelia calls as she’s zipping up her puffy pink coat.

“Have a good evening,” I reply as I head to the exit.

There is a chill in the air that nips at my nose and ears and I make a mental note to bring a toque tomorrow.

“How was day one? Are you thriving or surviving?” Tamara, another fourth grade teacher whose classroom is across the hall from me, asks as she joins me on the sidewalk. She’s older than me, in her mid-thirties and was kind enough to check in on me a couple of times today.

“Definitely thriving,” I laugh, unable to wipe the smile off my face .

Just like my brother knew he always wanted to play hockey, I knew at a very young age I wanted to be a teacher.

It’s a challenging, ever-changing profession that demands a lot from you, but honestly, I’ve never been able to picture myself doing anything else.

It was only my first day and already I felt a real connection to several of my students. There’s such a genuine curiosity at this age and I love being a part of their learning journey. Seeing their eyes light up when they grasp a new concept or reading to them and watching them get lost in the story is just so rewarding.

“You’ve got a good group of kids.” She pulls her belted peacoat tighter around her and places her hands in her pockets. “But buckle up; as soon as the snow starts to accumulate, they’ll go from angels to demons in the blink of an eye.”

“Who’s a demon?” The teacher from the classroom next to Tamara asks as he joins us. “Hey, Beth.”

“Hi, Jacob.” I’m pleased that I remembered his name. I’ve been introduced to so many people today and I just know I’m going to forget someone.

“The children are demons, in general,” Tamara answers. “At least they will be when there’s snow to pelt at one another.”

Jacob nods, his blond hair peeking out under his knit toque. “Don’t forget Skate Day.”

“How could I?” She actually shudders.

When neither of them elaborates, I hesitantly ask, “What’s Skate Day?”

“Every grade gets their own field trip before Christmas break,” he explains. “For grade four, that's a morning skate at an indoor rink.”

“Oh?” My voice comes out higher than usual and I force myself to remain calm. “That’s a big undertaking.”

“Yup. Annually scheduled chaos,” Tamara adds darkly.

My heart rate increases and I start to sweat despite the cold. “So…do just the kids skate, or…?”

Jacob shakes his head. “Kids, teachers, and some parent volunteers, too.”

Dammit.

“And when does this field trip take place?”

Tamara answers. “It’s always the last Friday before Christmas vacation, so this year that’s the twenty-first of December.”

After some quick mental math, I determine that means it’s forty-seven days from now.

I have forty-seven days to either come up with a reasonable excuse for why I can’t go, or teach myself how to ice skate.