FROM: VINELLI, KELLIE
Sent: Thursday, September 28
To: [All Staff]
Subj: Morning Middle School Memo!
Good Morning Faculty! Thank you to everyone who turned in progress reports! As a reminder, AJ Trachtenberg will represent Franklin Middle School at tonight’s Science Educators Celebration and his student Margot Costa will give remarks! Attached you’ll find some follow-up tips from Nurse Battle about staying vigilant during this latest outbreak of conjunctivitis!
Have a great day On Purpose!
Kellie Vinelli, Principal
I stand outside the robotics company hosting this dinner, wondering how in the hell anyone is supposed to recognize that this is a robotics company. I guess that’s part of the intrigue of the whole thing. The brick building in the industrial Strip District neighborhood shows no outward signs that it contains state-of-the-art technology and boasts some of the top scientific minds in the industry on its payroll.
There’s just a tiny sign beneath an awning. And, of course, the swanky cars lining the street. I wonder if those belong to any of the other teachers attending or if they’re all the deep-pocketed donors’ vehicles. Either way, I remind myself, I’m about to eat fantastic food and celebrate some really cool opportunities for students.
I lean against the railing, waiting for Margot’s arrival. She was beside herself when her essay was selected to be the highlighted student speech for the evening. I offered to give her and her mother a ride to the event, but as they declined, I decide to wait for them outside instead so we can all walk in together.
A few blocks away, I see a bus slide to a stop on Butler Street and they emerge, looking nervous. “Margot!” I cup my hands over my mouth to shout at them and then wave. I see palpable relief on her mother’s face as they make their way toward me.
Margot’s mother looks around, nervously. “Used to be, nobody would go to this neighborhood after dark,” she says, biting her lip.
I laugh. “Ah, that was before the Pittsburgh Renaissance,” I joke. This whole neighborhood used to be filled with Italian families who worked in the various factories that once lined Smallman Street. Ever since the new Children’s Hospital was built here, there are fewer Moose Lodges and more craft breweries and, of course, hot new robotics laboratories in the renovated former factory spaces. “Seriously, though. I’m happy to drive you both home afterward so you don’t have to take the bus!”
Margot grins. “I like the bus! I take notes for my sociology observations.”
I nod, impressed. “You’re taking sociology this year?”
“Mm hm. At the gifted program. I’m making notes about commuters.”
I smile at her and then remember that I never learned her mother’s first name. I stick my hand out for her to shake. “You can call me AJ,” I tell her, hoping she’ll offer a response, but she shakes her head.
“Better to stick with the formalities. It’ll help me feel better at this whole thing.”
I redirect my attention to Margot. “Well, then, ladies. Shall we go inside?”
We step inside to another dimension. The lobby somehow feels naturally lit, even though there are very few windows in the brick facade. Soft classical music plays as we make our way down the polished concrete halls. A black-clad host offers to take our coats, but I didn’t wear one over my suit jacket and Margot seems reluctant to part with hers. I wave a hand and try to get the Costas seated somewhere, preferably with some snacks.
The dinner is being held in a massive room, clearly an old assembly line area of the former factory, a space now flanked by offices. High-top tables decorate the perimeter and a stage has been constructed atop what looks like a giant funnel. “I wonder if that used to pour molten metal,” Margot says, pointing.
“Don’t point,” her mother hisses, and I smile.
“I bet it did,” I tell her. Finding our names on the seating chart, I glance around our table assignment, delighted to see we will be sitting with other folks from the city public schools. And then I see another name that stops me cold. As Margot drags her mother off toward the crudités, I stare at the seating chart.
I see Lara’s name in neat, sans serif font, listed as the plus-one for the CEO of an autonomous vehicle company headquartered here in the Strip. Lara is here with the folks footing the bill and I’m here with the kids receiving the financial support. I feel nauseated. I feel enraged that my ex is going to be here on the arm of her new, wealthy lover. And here I am, still the lowly science teacher in a poor, urban middle school. And then on top of it all, I feel shame for feeling this way. Of course my students depend on these contributions from local businesses. I chose this work, helping students envision a different and more prosperous future. My boss won’t come out and say it, but my upbringing makes it possible for me to be a liaison here.
I look over at Margot again and shake my head. I’m not going to allow myself to forget why I do this. Margot can’t change the circumstances of her beginnings, and neither can any of her classmates. But I can help her and all these students change the trajectory of their future. That’s why I do this. That’s why my whole family lives a life of service. We care about people, damn it.
I make my way to the bar and grab a bottle of lite beer, chugging down half of it as I mentally prepare myself to see Lara. I’m sure she’ll look good.
But then I look up to see Samantha Vine gliding into the room and I can’t believe I ever thought Lara looked beautiful. Samantha is sunshine and radiance. Everyone around her knows her, or pretends to, anyway. An entourage of people follow her as she makes her way to the front table, setting her wrap over the back of a chair. I watch as she greets people and kisses cheeks.
I watch as Margot makes her way toward Samantha, too, and I clench my jaw, waiting for a cold dismissal. But it doesn’t come. Samantha squeals in delight upon seeing Margot and throws her arms around my student. I watch as she enthusiastically shakes hands with Margot’s mother and then seems to introduce them to the people standing all around her.
I’m so intent on watching them that I forget to look for Lara. So of course I’m caught off guard when I hear her voice. “Is that really you, AJ? What on earth are you doing here of all places?”