"Don't forget to work on your autobiography this evening," Hannah called out over the ringing of the final bell. "Your rough drafts are due tomorrow."
The kids weren't paying a bit of attention to her as they busily stuffed their backpacks and laughed and chatted, thrilled that school was finally over.
For once, Hannah was grateful they were tuning her out.
She sank down in her wobbly chair behind her desk and stared out blankly into the emptying classroom, unsure of what to think or say or do. Brooklyn's arrival at lunchtime, tugging the hand of her father along to show him "her drawer" had surprised the heck out of her, and thinking back on what she'd taught after that, she had a hard time remembering any of it.
Had she even taught anything at all? She was sure she had, but it was all just a blur now.