Paisley
Six years later
“Dr. Lowry?”
I lift my head from where I’m connecting my laptop to the projector. “Just call me Paisley,” I say brightly to the woman who steps into my classroom.
The second slide of my introduction explains that I don’t have a PhD. I’m just a plant nerd with a Masters who they let teach this term for some reason.
“I wasn’t sure how hard it would be to find my way, so I’m early.” She looks around nervously.
“First day?”
“First class ever.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m a single mom.”
I come around the podium and sit in the first row, patting the seat next to me. “Come tell me about what led you here. I was a mature student, too. And on my first day of school, I had a professor who was a mature student himself at one point.”
“Really?” She exhales in relief. “And now you’re the teacher. So coming back to school worked out for you?”
“Best decision I ever made.”
She smiles. “That makes me feel better. Who was your teacher? Is he still here?”
I resist the urge to curve my hand over the slightly swelling belly under my sweatshirt. “He’s retired from teaching now. He’s ranching full-time—and being a stay-at-home dad.”