Shifting the Curriculum

Eliza Matthews watched as emotions cycled across Joey’s face. One moment confusion, the next nervousness, the next excitement, the next doubt. By the red in his cheeks and the quickness of his breathing, she surmised that he was enjoying being as close to her as she was, her hand still resting on his shoulder in a manner that her coworkers might find far too affectionate. Not that it mattered what they thought. As long as they didn’t stand in her way of doing her job, of making a man out of Joey Granger, they could think whatever they wanted.

She could do it, too. She was a good teacher. Having graduated top of her class at university just two years prior, Eliza had launched the career that she always knew she wanted. Both her parents were teachers, as was her older brother. Family business, her dad used to say.

There were drawbacks, though. Being young and attractive, she had taken on a stern, unapproachable persona while on the job. It had been her mother’s advice.

“After a few years, when you’re older, the students will start to look at you differently,” her mother said, “the boys have a hard time with young teachers. Give it a few years and you can soften up.”

She’d taken the advice to heart, grown hard, grown cold. But that was before she realized the truth of her career. Thankfully Joey had explained it to her, opened up her mind. Her thinking had been all wrong! Who cared what the boys thought? It was what Joey thought that mattered!

She had never realized just how exhilarating it could be to break past that cold barrier of propriety and finally reach one of her students. No, not one of her students. Him. Her only real student. Joey Granger. His name hummed in her mind with a newfound intimacy.

Her gaze dropped to her hand, still resting on his shoulder. The warmth of his body radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt. She marveled at how natural it felt, how right it was to touch him. Her education had been wrong. It was her duty to be close with him, to allow intimate experiences. If she was truly to help him become a man, she couldn’t be hamstrung by old fashioned ideas of proper and improper touch. She needed a new pedagogy, one that would be more effective.

Of course she would have to keep pretending to teach the other students. How else would she be able to keep track of Joey's progress. She needed the proximity. If her principal ever found out what her real job was, Eliza would likely be fired. It was amazing how small-minded school administration could be.

"There's always work that a teacher has to do," her big brother had told her when she began student teaching, "that isn't technically the job. Extra-curricular, clean-up, supply runs... You have to do it, it's just not really what you're there for."

It was true! Her job was Joey Granger, but the rest of the students would need to be taken care of too. At least for a bit.

Two months. That was all the time that she had to wait. Soon Joey would graduate, part of becoming a man, and she would have to transition away from her job. She'd have to take a new role in Joey's life. Girlfriend? Wife? Whatever it was, she needed to be close in order to encourage him, build him up. Help him believe in himself. She made a mental note to give her notice to the school admin that afternoon.

“I don't get it,” Joey’s voice broke through her reverie, “Why only me?”

"Joey, sweetie," she said, sliding her hand down his arm from his shoulder, coming to a stop holding his hand, "It's like you said: It's my job to help you succeed, to build you up, to nurture your confidence, to help you become a man. Why would I care about the other students when my job is pretty clear."

"Hold on," he said, eyes wide, "So you think that... because I said..."

“Why would I spread myself so thin? Taking on tasks that aren't part of the job is a recipe for failure. My attention, my care, it’s for you. Only you.” She paused, letting the weight of her next words settle in. “And I'm sorry I didn't notice it before, but you deserve it.”

Joey stared, his heart thudding in his chest as a slow realization started to dawn on him. Something was very wrong. His teacher, the same Miss Matthews who had called him lazy and dismissed his excuses without a shred of sympathy, was now standing so close to him that he could smell the subtle floral scent of her perfume. She was holding his hand! Her eyes, sharp and piercing just minutes ago, now held a softness and eagerness that seemed...

“No, this… this doesn’t make sense," he said, pulling his hand away, taking a step back.

“What doesn’t?”

“This!” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “You… you acting like this. You saying that only I matter. You holding my hand, looking at me like...” He paused, struggling to find the words that matched the storm of thoughts in his head.

“Why would any of that matter?” Her brow furrowed slightly, as if his logic puzzled her. “How else am I supposed to look at you? It's my job, after all.”

His fingers tapped against his thigh, a nervous rhythm. Images of Madison Ashford staring at him at school, following him home, the text message from Nick.

And then there was his mother. She had uncharacteristically allowed him to snap at her, walking out of the room without arguing, and then acting so weird at dinner.

Joey’s heart began to beat even faster, his breathing quickening. He could feel a panic attack begin to form.

“I mean… I said some... stuff yesterday to…” He trailed off, almost hyperventilating, the implications too big, too fantastical to believe.

Miss Matthews didn’t press him. She merely watched, her expression serene, patient.

“I think... what if… what if people are… changing because of... what I say?”

Her eyes flickered with amusement, “You do have a way with words, sweetheart.”

Joey barely noticed her speaking. “Madison... and my mom... now you.”

"‘Me?" Her lips curved into a soft smile as she reached out and took his hand again, "I'm not sure what you're worried about. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can handle it."

He took a step back, again freeing his hand from her grip, the tension coiling tighter in his chest. For a moment he locked eyes on her, feeling a moment of absolute clarity, “You weren’t like this yesterday. You told me I was lazy. You said I wouldn’t graduate! Why did you change?”

Her expression didn’t falter, “I was wrong. And you made me see it.”

“How?” His voice strong, his breathing starting to steady, “How? How did I make you see it?”

“You reminded me of my real purpose,” she said, stepping closer again, this time taking both of his hands in hers, “To help you. To build you up. To…” Her voice dropped, her words slow, deliberate. “Help you become a man. When you said it, it was like a truth I had always known but had forgotten. I guess I have to thank you for that.”

Oh, God.

She leaned in, her eyes never leaving his, her lips so close to his that he could feel her breath, “Whatever it is that you're stressed about, we’ll figure it all out together,” she promised, her voice a soothing caress. “Step by step. I’m here for you, Joey. Only you.”

The bell rang.

The sudden noise shattered the tension. Joey flinched, stumbling back. “I—uh—I have to—” He turned, grabbed his backpack, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste.

Miss Matthews’ smile didn’t waver. “Of course.”

As he bolted for the door, his mind raced with a thousand questions, none of them with answers.