Literature
Short Story: "The Teacher"
By Ashe
Her knees cracked as she kneeled in front of her student, but Kate didn’t notice. One index finger tapped the dark wood floor.
"Point your toe here and try again."
The student nodded as her right foot pushed slowly forward, the fiberglass toe-piece as quiet as its owner. She tucked her hair behind her ear and waited patiently as Kate turned the music on.
The teacher moved to fix the studio blinds as the eight-bar opening strain of accordion filled the room. The young girl sighed and shyly squared her shoulders.
"Lift your chin," said the teacher, and the girl looked to the woman who hadn’t even turned back around. A sheepish smile crept onto her lips as she re-squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and stared her imaginary audience in the eyes.
One more breath and she was up on her toes, the small feet lightly tapping out the rhythm of the piece. Kate’s soft, toneless murmur was the only suggestion the girl needed to pound just a little harder - just a little faster. A quick smile was all it took for confidence to grow.
Ten minutes later, the little girl was staring the sun in the face; she squinted at the sudden brightness, brown eyes adjusting from the dark comfort of the classroom. On the ride home, she traced her fingers along each edge of her shoes, her instruments: her heart. She curled into her seat for the two-hour ride home, the setting sun warming her through the warm winter coat she wore.
Eyes closed, she dreamt of flying. Her mother smiled, watching her daughter’s dreams dance about her head.
Kate sat in her worn rolling chair, and the support gave a soft groan but stayed. A quiet click of the pen and rustling of paper were the only sounds in the studio for hours. The only sounds - save the echoes of children’s smiles, so loud they were close to deafening. Kate herself smiled. The pen continued to scratch against her academy paperwork.
The young girl’s index finger pressed against the linoleum floor; with the other hand’s help, plastic toes followed its silent bidding. The propped-up "student" gazed emotionlessly forward, toe pointed.
The girl made her way to the radio she had taped to a desk and pressed "play". Strains of accordion made their way out of the tiny speakers. Without turning around, the girl murmured, "Lift your chin."
Kate leaned back in her chair, brushed the hair from her forehead and sighed. The pen rolled along the desk as she massaged her hand. She checked the clock.
The young girl tucked her student into a tiny coat, walked her to her room, and sat her in a chair. She gently took off the coat and changed her into pajamas. Before turning the light off, she assured, "Don’t worry. We will have another lesson tomorrow."
Kate took her coat from the pegs and slipped it on; after one last check to make sure everything was in place, she clicked off the lights.
Stepping outside, the teacher’s eyes did not squint against the sun; the moon now hung in its place, and her breath could be seen in its glow.
After she locked the studio door, she pressed her forehead against the cool, dark wood of the building. She looked longingly at the lock, and assured, "Don’t worry. We will have another lesson tomorrow."