The hard slap of a hand on my baggy new Long Beach State T-shirt, courtesy of Coach’s recruiter friend, echoes in the small science lab. “Congrats, Lucas,” Joshua says. He’s not the first one. For the past two days, that’s all I’ve heard, sometimes from people I barely know giving me hand slaps, high fives, and hosannas for winning state, getting named MVP, and the story in the paper. They’re giving me props for reaching the first rung of the ladder out of here.
I thank him. I’m going to have to get used to speaking to people I don’t know before I start talking to recruiters. Coach told me yesterday that I can use his phone and office to talk to them, but he wants to be there too.
“Yes, congratulations, Elijah and Lucas. You’ve made everyone in this school very proud,” Mrs. Thompson says. She points at both of us and then claps. Everybody else joins in.
“But now our focus must return to the classroom,” she starts. I take notes, writing down every word she says like it’s gospel. I don’t stop until the bell rings. She stops me as I exit.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask her. Mrs. Thompson points to the empty chair by her desk. I sit.
“I understand from Mr. Unser that you might go to college. I’m proud of you, Lucas.” I blush in every shade of red on the spectrum. “What will you study? Pre-med? Chemistry?”
Students for the next class start to file in, picking up their lab notebooks. I’m silent as I watch them copying Mrs. Thompson’s notes on the chalkboard.
“I will study education,” I finally say. “I want to be a science teacher like you.”
She laughs kindly. “Lucas, that’s nice, but you should aim big. You should—”
I turn and look at the students who come to class every day with odds against them, as much as me, maybe more so. Beaten down by economics, but raised up by education. “I am.”
“Lucas, that’s very nice.” She’s all flustered. “But maybe you should consider something other than teaching—”
“I’d agree with you, Mrs. Thompson,” I say and then smile. “But then we’d both be wrong.”