Write about: the classroom.
The fall session of soccer started up this afternoon, so I was there with Max. He was happy to find that not only were there only five other kids in the class, he was also the second oldest. I'm hoping both of those things will help him to be more comfortable and confident there.
He got off to a good start at any rate.
Still feeling exhausted from yesterday's activities. I should sleep.
"Has anyone seen Mr. Williams?" the principal asked from the doorway to the classroom.
"What, like, today?" Brock said as he tapped a cigarette out of his newly unwrapped package.
"Yes, today, Mr. Kennedy," the principal replied. "And I'm not even going to ask how a 12 year old got those - just put them away, please."
"Your mom gave them to me last night."
"That is more than enough, Mr. Kennedy." The principal glared at him for a few moments before turning his attention to the remainder of the students in the room. "So. Mr. Williams? Today? Anyone?"
"Pretty sure he quit," Shannon said without looking up from her phone.
"Yesterday," Annie added with the most enthusiastic smile the principal had seen in his school in years.
"Probably finally realized he could make more money on a street corner downtown than in this dump," Wade said before returning to his artwork on the ceiling. The principal made a point to not look too closely at what it was he was depicting up there.
"Children, this is not ap-"
"Just like your mom," Brock cut in, earning a round of applause from the students and another glare from the principal.
"I won't be calling in a substitute this time," the principal told them once relative silence returned. Then he continued before the cheers could get too loud, "I'll be bringing in the local Drill Sergeant instead."