Coming Home

Four o'clock. Out to duty. Four-fifteen. Back to the classroom for tutoring. Nelson failed my class last semester, but comes to tutoring two or three times a week, to make sure he doesn't fail again. Jameese came because she was tardy to class and I would not let her in. Chloe has been "missing some days" and came to try to get some sort of idea of what we are doing in class. Greg came to try to learn how to solve quadratic equations, so he can retake the test he made a 44 on. I taught Carliza Algebra I last year, and she came by because she was bored, so I gave her some quadratic equations to solve. She brought a friend, who spent half her time helping Carliza with the equations and the other half dancing.

 

Four fifty-seven. Hurry up and clear out so you don't miss the late bus. Nelson, erase the boards and grab that bag for me. Put on your seatbelt. Are you going to Greenville High?

Five fifteen. I drop Nelson off in front of Greenville High, and as I pull in, I see Nate. Just the guy I was looking for. What are you doing for next year? Your mom says you're still thinking about the military. If you go in there and get yourself shot, when you get back here, I'm going to shoot you again. Nate and I walk over to the baseball game. I've got a calculator and a few scraps of paper in my pocket, and we work out a few ACT-type algebra problems before the game starts. It's the ACT that has Nate thinking about the military – he made a 14 the first time he took it and is convinced he won't get into college anywhere. So we work out some problems and watch the baseball game for a little while.

Six eighteen. Nate, you said you had to be at church at six-thirty, so you better get going. I say goodbye to the rest of the students at the game and head over to the middle school track meet, where I can see a group of my boys helping out with the meet. Boone, with a 10 foot pole-vault pole in one hand, comes over and starts giving me a hard time my crutches. JT chimes in – I told you you better get your weight up coach. And Alvin informs me that I am too old to be playing. Ant tells me that he never got his letter jacket. Chopper comes striding across the field. I hear you've been staying out of trouble lately, Chop. Yeah know, he says. Who told you that? Ms. Morrison. I thought so. I don't know what was wrong with me in the fall. I wanted to throw discus too, but I was too late. I see lil' Ced, one of the middle school kids who came out for soccer. I chide him for quitting after two games. Three games, three games coach. And you said I wasn't gonna play much anyway. Alright Ced. You and your friend here should come out to Solomon. We play out there Tuesdays and Thursdays at five-thirty, and Sundays at four. Bring your friends. Chopper puts his hand on my shoulder. Coach, I need a favor. What's that? Take me to the house. Alright Chop, let's go.

 

Six forty-one. Heading back to the truck, I run into one of the twins. Hey Twin. Ka'Shield, right? What are you running? The 1600, 3200, 800, and 4X100. Winning them all? Yeah. Putting up scholarship times? In the 2-mile.

Six forty-nine. I see Javon, another of my middle school recruits who didn't last the season. His brother Darryl, one of our best players, is graduating this year. Javon, you staying out of trouble? Yeah coach, well, I got a referral the other day. He shuffles through his papers but is unable to produce it. You going to come out and play with us at Solomon? Tuesdays and Thursdays at 5:30, Sundays at 4:00? I'll try to get out there coach. Hey, can you give me a ride to the house? Yeah Javon. We moved, we stay up by Uncle Ben's now, up there on Broadway. Alright, well, you get in the back. Chopper in the front. We can't leave until you put the seatbelts on.

 

Seven sixteen. Alright Javon. Tell your mom I said hello. As I pull out of the apartment complex, I realize I'm hungry. Heading back down to the highway, I head back towards Leland. Popeyes. No, I can't eat that. Subway's not so bad for you. As I look up across the counter there is a glimmer of recognition. Hey Mr. Hogues. Mr who? I mean, Mr, uh, Mr. Galla… Gallagher. How are you? Good. How's the baby? He's alright. He must be about 10 months now, right? Yeah, how'd you know? Because you were due right after graduation last year. Oh yeah. What you getting? Italian, I guess, on wheat. I leave feeling incredibly guilty, because I can't for the life of me remember her name.

Seven twenty-three. I walk out of Subway, feeling guilty that I can't, for the life of me, remember that student's name. Coach, you eatin' healthy, ain't you? I turn and spy Ant peering out at me from the back seat of an Oldsmobile. You weren't serious about your letter jacket, were you Ant? No, I been had mine coach. Alright.

Seven twenty-seven. Three blocks from the Subway, I see someone running out to the edge of the highway. I shrill female voice cries – Hey Matt, where you going? I slow down as he races towards the road – Hey Coach. Matt, I haven't seen you out at Solomon. Come out on Sunday. The light turns green and I slowly roll away. Four o'clock, I shout, holding up four fingers. Aight coach. I watch in the rearview mirror as he scampers back to the shrill female voice, and can imagine the explanation "that was my coach."

Seven-forty: Pull in to the house in Leland. Change out of the teaching clothes, get a brownie and the jug of orange juice to go with the Italian sub. I look through the computer, searching for the student's name. I can only find her last name, Lawrence, on an old grade sheet. The bells ring eight. I start to blog. The roommates come home, and I break out the subway. Finish the jug of orange juice. The bells ring nine. I'm tired.