After we got going, I focused on what we were doing rather than the fact that she was Emerson’s daughter. “Don’t use cosine. Use this instead.”
“But the teacher said I’m supposed to use this—”
“Your teacher is stupid. Do it this way.” I wrote it out for her and showed her how the problem would work. “Look, you get the right answer in fewer steps.”
“Ooh, that makes sense.” She pressed her pencil to the problem and kept going.
I walked her through all the steps and let her have an opportunity to get there on her own first. She faltered sometimes, but she was dramatically better than before. “This is a lot easier than I thought it was.”
“People don’t fail classes because they’re stupid. They fail because they learn differently. Teachers don’t have the time to take that into account in the classroom, so they have to teach to the majority, which does a disservice to everyone else. Annoying.”
“Yeah…”
“Do the next one. I won’t help you this time.”
She stared at the problem. “But this one is hard…”
“You can do it.” I took her notebook and wrote down the steps I had taught her, letting her reflect back on it as she worked, just the way Emerson wrote out the steps for me at the book signing. “Use this.”
“Okay.” She stared at the paper for a while before she started to move her pencil.
When I realized I was just hovering over her and staring, I turned away and looked out the window. The sky was cloudy, and it was almost dark. The lights were starting to shine out from the windows of the buildings.
Her pencil scratched against the paper.
Once I wasn’t working on something, I started to get nervous again, thinking about the fact that Emerson’s daughter was sitting beside me. I had no idea if she liked me, thought I was a weird nerd…or whatever her opinion could be.
“Done.”
I turned back to her and pulled the paper toward me. I scanned through all the steps and checked her work and then her answer. “You did it.” I grinned in triumph then turned to her. “See? You got this.”
She didn’t smile, but she dropped her gaze and her cheeks turned a little red, like the praise meant something to her, even though she tried to pretend it didn’t.
“Let’s do another one.” I pushed the paper back toward her. “Two for two. I know you can do it.”
She smiled before she grabbed the pencil and started to work.
This time, I watched her, feeling a sense of pride that I’d actually helped her, that she’d actually listened to me and allowed me to help her improve. We worked together and made progress. It was a good feeling.Emerson knocked on the door after what felt like five minutes.
An hour had already passed?
She let herself inside. “How’s it going?”
Lizzie started to pack her things back into her backpack. “Good! Derek is a much better teacher than mine. That guy’s a dumbass—”
“Lizzie!” Emerson marched to the table, her eyes wide and furious at her daughter’s comment. “That is no way for a young lady to speak, especially about her teacher. I was going to take you to your favorite burger place, but forget it now.”
“Whoa, wait.” Lizzie turned to her. “I’m sorry, alright?”
I tried not to smile at Lizzie’s attitude, the way food was the only thing that mattered to her at this age.
Emerson still looked mad. “I don’t want an apology. I want you to be respectful toward your teachers and other adults.”
“But he’s not a good teacher.” Lizzie sighed and continued to put her stuff away, and she didn’t throw me under the bus and admit that I thought her teacher was an asshole too. “Whatever.” She zipped up her bag and got to her feet before she turned to me. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome, Lizzie.” I watched her walk to the door before I rose to my feet.
Emerson glanced at me like she wanted to greet me with more than just a look. “Thank you, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
I nodded and walked with them to the door to let them out. I wanted to offer to take them home, but I knew I couldn’t.
Emerson placed her arm around Lizzie’s shoulders and walked down the hallway with her. “So, learn a lot?”
“Actually, yeah,” Lizzie said. “I don’t know…when Derek explains, it makes more sense.”
I didn’t close the door because I continued to listen.
“But man, that guy is loaded,” Lizzie said. “I’ve only seen places like that on TV.”
“Lizzie.” Emerson arrived at the elevator and hit the button. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?” she asked. “It’s a compliment.”
“It’s still rude to talk about how rich someone is.” She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders again. “And since you had such a good session, I guess we can still get that burger.”