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“Thank you for coming!”
Emma shuts the door carefully behind Mr and Mrs De Smet and returns to her desk. It’s a little past seven pm and parent teacher interviews are almost over. It’s days like these Emma is very thankful to be a primary school teacher, because there’s not too much to discuss in terms of academic intervention and usually even less talk of disciplinary problems, other than the occasional scuffle on the playground. These meetings are usually wrapped up in fifteen minutes or less.
She takes a sip of coffee, brought to her by one of the other teachers from the staffroom, and peers down at the timetable to see which parents are up next. Her eyes catch on the names, right near the bottom of the paper, IJzermans & Driesen scrawled in her neat handwriting.
She can’t help but be a bit excited. Now that she’s met Sander and seen the whole very adorable picture the small family makes, she’s sort of been dying to see the two parents together.
She stands and readjusts her skirt, feeling around for her necklace and settling it in space between her collarbones, before walking to the door and opening it gently.
She leans out into the hallway where a series of chairs have been set up for the parents to sit in while they wait. She only has to search for a moment to find the head of white-blonde hair.
Sander is sitting in one of the plastic chairs, his ankles crossed, and legs sprawled out in front of him. Next to him is David, nestled up against his side, head on his chest, pointing something out to Sander on a small game console screen, Sander nods at whatever he’s saying and leaves a quick kiss to David’s hairline.
Robbe is on David’s other side, his own chair pulled up close to the other two, watching them fondly. Sander’s left arm is resting along the back of Robbe’s chair and Emma thinks she can see him rubbing soothing circles against the back of Robbe’s shoulder.
She hates to break up their sweet moment, they look too peaceful, but she would like to get out of here before eight thirty, so she calls out, “Mr IJzermans? Mr Driesen?” all three of them look up at her voice, “would you like to come in?”
Sander stands, stretching his arms over his head while Robbe whispers something quickly to David and makes sure he’s settled with his game, before joining Sander. Emma watches as Robbe comes up to Sander’s side, intertwining their fingers automatically and they move towards her with polite smiles.
She holds the door wider for them and they shuffle past her and into the classroom.
Emma gestures to the two chairs lined up in front of the desk. “Please have a seat.”
They fall into their seats, shifting to get comfortable as she steps around the desk towards her own chair.
Sander looks around the room with interest, eyes tracking over the art plastered on the walls.
“Are any of these David’s?” he asks, pointing to a series of colourful paintings.
Emma jumps out of her seat, eager to show him. “Oh yes! That one right there is his, we were doing abstract self-portraits.”
Sander stands as well walking over to the wall. He studies the painting carefully, a small smile on his face.
Emma can’t resist. “David’s was particularly good.”
Sander glances back at Robbe with a smirk, “So he takes after me then.”
Robbe laughs and Emma turns to Sander curiously. “Are you an artist?”
“I teach classes on it at the university, so let’s hope so.”
Robbe rolls his eyes. “He’s being modest, he painted the mural on Britselei, I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”
“Wow, yes, I have seen it, you’re very talented.” Emma compliments, shifting back towards her desk and sliding into her chair.
Sander follows her, strolling over and dropping into his seat on the other side of the table, and leaning towards Robbe with a grin. “Not as good as the one I painted of you.”
Robbe shoves him but then catches his hand and pulls it into his lap, playing with the rings on Sander's fingers.
Emma blinks. “There’s a mural of you in Antwerp?”
Sander goes to speak, but Robbe silences him with a look and Sander just sits back smugly in his seat.
“There was, once, but it got painted over a long time ago.” Robbe admits, a distant kind of smile slipping onto his face. Then he clears his throat a slight pinkness to his cheeks. “But you didn't invite us here to talk about that, how is David going?”
“Yes!” Emma hurries to pull out her notes. “Well, first of all David is a delight to have in class, he’s very attentive, always completes the work I give him, and usually with enthusiasm. He’s a wonderful student.”
Robbe snorts, sending Sander an amused look. “He definitely doesn’t get that from you.”
Sander chuckles, but he doesn’t argue, and Emma tries not to look obviously endeared by their banter.
She goes on, “As we’ve just discussed he’s doing very well in art and he seems to enjoy it the most, he’s also getting good marks in maths and dutch. Here’s some of his completed worksheets.”
She hands over a couple of sheets of paper for them to look through.
Sander takes the worksheets, holding them between him and Robbe, their heads bowed together as they check them over.
They both nod, appearing happy, but then Robbe leans forward, a look of mild concern blooming on his face. “Is there anything we need to work on? We don’t like to push him, but we’re worried he’s not comfortable asking for help.”
“He seems to be struggling a bit with science, nothing major, but maybe he could benefit from a little help at home,” Emma concedes, but she keeps her tone reassuring.
Robbe tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and looks to Sander, a slight line creasing across his forehead. “Maybe we should ask Yasmina to come talk to him? If he isn’t okay having me go through it with him.”
Sander inches towards him, face softening. “Robbe, he’s probably just being stubborn and doesn’t want to ask for help, it’s not because of you, if we talk to him, I’m sure he’ll tell us what’s wrong and we can work on it together, stop stressing.”
Robbe shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a slow breath. “You’re right, we’ll talk to him tomorrow at dinner, I’ll butter him up with lasagna.”
Sander just smiles at him, slinging his arm over Robbe’s shoulders and curling his fingers into Robbe’s hair.
Robbe visibly relaxes at the touch, slouching further into his chair and turns back to Emma, face cleared of worry. “Anything else?”
Emma drops her gaze back down to the notes in order to hide her smile.
“He gets along well with his peer group, frequently participates in class discussion and he seems to have made some good friends, but I’ve noticed some animosity between David and another child named Mats, it doesn’t look like anything to worry about, sometimes kids just don’t get along, but I’m keeping an eye on it.”
Sander nods, but even he looks a bit worried now and she can’t let them go, without assuring them. “You have a wonderful son, really, he’s such a pleasure to teach, he’s so bright, I really don’t think there’s anything to be concerned about. He’s a good kid.”
Sander tilts his head to the side and gives her a soft smile. “Thank you, we think he’s pretty great.”
Robbe face glows, shy and pleased.
Emma sits back, trying to reassemble her ‘teacher’ mask. “That’s pretty much it, if you have any more questions please feel free to come speak to me after school, I’m usually available until four thirty.”
“Yes thank you, we will.” Robbe smiles at her one last time before pushing his chair back and standing, Sander mirroring him.
Emma leads them to the door, shaking their hands as they cross into the hallway.
She watches as they wander back to their son.
David drops his game into his lap the second they come into view. Sander takes the console from him so David can jump out of the plastic chair.
Robbe crouches down in front of him and David climbs onto his back, small arms looped around Robbe’s neck from behind as Robbe unfolds his limbs and stands back to his full height.
Sander must make some kind of joke because Robbe narrows his eyes at him, but David bursts into giggles, which makes Robbe smile involuntarily.
They collect all their things, Sander throwing a messenger bag over his shoulder and then they head off down the hall, growing smaller and smaller until they disappear from her sight.
Emma feels bad for thinking it, but she has a feeling none of her remaining meetings will be quite as enjoyable as this one.