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What had been shaping up to be a perfectly lovely Thursday had quite suddenly devolved into barely leashed chaos.
Someone had, Jaskier finds out after he manages to corral and soothe his students, forgotten to add water to their instant mac n’ cheese before putting it in the staff microwave and leaving to go make copies down the hall.
The unhydrated noodles and dubious powdered cheese had apparently begun to smoke and promptly set off the fire alarm.
During the middle of nap time.
In the midst of a rainstorm.
The panic had started when his students were abruptly awoken by the blaring alarm and flashing lights indicating that they needed to leave the building. The students of Mr. Pankratz’s kindergarten class had been through fire drills before and done remarkably, though those had always been planned and had never forced the students to stand outside in unfavorable weather.
They also had never prompted the local fire department to arrive with several fire engines, an ambulance, and the fire chief.
Normally Jaskier’s students would have been thrilled to see the bright red truck, many enjoyed playing with the toy version he kept in the classroom during free time or indoor recess. But not today. No, today the sight of the big truck with its flashing lights and outfitted firefighters compounded on the fear that had been simmering while the students rushed to get their coats on and get out of the building as quickly as possible and highlighted the fact that this was not a drill. In under a minute of its arrival Jaskier had been surrounded by a small swarm of sobbing students who could not be convinced that the school was not going to burn to the ground until Jaskier managed to flag down one of the uniformed volunteers exiting the building.
A quick chat later in which the kids were assured that yes, it’s safe to go back inside , and praised for doing such a good job following directions, the tears finally dried up and they finally made their way back indoors.
Thankfully the debacle hadn’t leeched into lunch or recess, and Jaskier was able to find a moment to call the local farmer who was supposed to be stopping in that afternoon with a dozen fertilized eggs that they were going to incubate in class for the next four weeks and confirm that they were still good to go for that afternoon.
After gathering his class from the cafeteria and ensuring that all lunchboxes are carefully stowed away, his young charges made their way to the rug, as was their usual routine, for Reading Rug time.
Reading Rug time served several purposes this day: first, the students would already be seated on the rug when Eskel arrived, so there would be no chaos in transitioning from tables to the rug, no jostling for the “best” squares. Second, reading to the students usually helped them to settle down, especially as Jaskier would do “the bestest voices” when he read aloud, which was typically enough to grab and hold his students’ attention, and of course it helped them to work on their own reading skills, each child was provided their own copy to read along and work on their sight words. Finally, and this was perhaps the most important reason for the Reading Rug today, the story, an adapted version of “The Ugly Duckling” would prepare the students not only for their new classroom responsibilities, but also to meet Farmer Eskel.
Jaskier had met Eskel some months ago at the farmer’s market and had found the man to be polite and easygoing and jumped on the opportunity to have a member of the local community show his students a bit of what the farmer did. He hadn’t been bothered by the other man’s considerable facial scars, but he knew there was a chance that his young charges might find the large man intimidating because of them. Hopefully, reading a story about being kind to those who look different, and all the lessons they had worked on throughout the year about politeness and respect, would be enough preparation.
There’s a soft knock on the door just as Jaskier is finishing up asking and answering questions about the book and how to treat other people, feeling less worried about any potentially negative reactions from the all the different suggestions his students have been sharing about how to include others and be kind, and Mr. Fidháil opens the door. Immediately, Jaskier’s students chirp a chorus of ‘good afternoon’s to the principal and sit up to show how they are on their best behavior.
His students are both complemented and reminded to maintain their good conduct, lest they lose the privilege of having their guest come in and are no longer allowed to carry out their class project. Mr. Fidháil gives each student a stern look, softened somewhat by the warmth in his eyes, before opening the door to admit their visitor.
It is, to every teacher’s dismay, impossible to predict and plan for everything. Excitable children who want to get up to take a better look, the students being nervous about a stranger in the room, even the usual intrapersonal conflict had been accounted for by carefully planning where each student sits on the rug. What he hadn’t expected was the goat.
Or for Ciri to squeal at the top of her lungs before sprinting across the classroom to throw herself at the farmer.
“Uncle Eskel! ”
Oh. Well. That explains… something?
Eskel, somehow, manages to shift the crate he’s carrying over to one hand, and catches Ciri with rather impressive speed for a man of his size. The goat lets out an excited bleat and hops around the two.
“Hey there, Cub! Didn’t realize I’d be coming in to see your class.”
“Me neither! All Mr. Pancats said was that we were going to have someone special come in to give us eggs to put in the in-cube-a-tor.“ She says the word carefully, nodding at each syllable.
“A happy surprise for the both of us then. Wanna take Lil’ Bleater over to the rug for me?” He asks. The goat, Lil’ Bleater apparently, has managed to tangle Eskel up rather spectacularly with the leash and the farmer is at risk of tripping and dropping his fragile cargo.
“Yes! ” She grabs the lead from her uncle with the sort of enthusiasm that accompanies being trusted with a big responsibility, and leads the tiny goat over to the rug. Lil’ Bleater settles down in Ciri’s lap and looks quite content to stay there. Eskel shoots a sheepish ( ha! ) look over to Jaskier, but he just shakes his head before turning to introduce the farmer to the class.
Luckily the rest of the afternoon is less exciting. It takes all of ten minutes for the majority of the kindergarteners to grow bored of watching the eggs in the incubator, and Little Bleater has dozed off in Ciri’s lap by the time that Eskel is done explaining to the students about what he does and how the incubator works. Some of the students are curious about why one of the eggs is so much larger than its fellows, but after Marilka points out that people are all different sizes the topic is dropped in favor of trying to figure out which student is the tallest.
Now they are contentedly drawing their own farms, though some might be more accurately described as zoos from the presence of giraffes and what Jaskier thinks is supposed to be a leopard. Eskel has received no less than five drawings since the coloring began and has looked surprised and genuinely grateful each time.
They’re chatting amiably about the similarities and differences between their two professions when it comes to light that the larger egg holds something of a surprise inside.
“An ugly gosling then? Doesn’t quite match the story.”
“Well, I don’t exactly have any swans on the farm on account of how they’re all,” Eskel pauses here, seeming to consider his words more carefully in case any young ears are listening, “rude . But I do have a couple of geese, Ciri loves them, and they’re not particularly good at sitting on the eggs so this one will have a better chance in the incubator anyway.”
“Huh. Either way, I’m sure the kids would love to see them when they’re all grown up. Are you still comfortable with us coming to visit in a few months?”
The other man nods, and accepts his sixth drawing of a farm. This one features an oversized rendition of the farmer who looks to be almost as tall as the lopsided red barn. Perhaps his students are experimenting with perspective?
“Yup, it might be a bit chaotic with all the baby animals running about, but there will be lots for your students to see.
Eskel leaves not long after, having been thoroughly reassured by Jaskier’s students that they will take good care of the eggs. Ciri promises to give him updates at their weekly family dinner, looking very serious as she does.
Dismissal follows not long after, and for the first time in seven hours, Jaskier is able to relax.
But his day is not done yet.
Normally, it takes about an hour to clean up his classroom and set up for the next day, but checking the incubator and a quick chat with Mr. Fidháil about the day’s events add on another thirty minutes or so. There is an email waiting for him when he goes to shut down his computer for the day.
From one Geralt Rivia.
He opens it.
Mr. Pankratz,
Ciri told me all about her day today. I’m sorry for the trouble she and my brother caused. Had I known, I would have warned you.
I hope Lil’ Bleater didn’t chew anything important.
-Geralt
Jaskier can’t help but smile to himself. Many other parents wouldn’t have bothered to reach out after any sort of incident; even fewer would have apologized, assuming that it’s entirely up to Jaskier to teach their child how to behave.
Mr. Rivia isn’t like that.
He writes back a short email reassuring the other man that there was no damage done before signing out and finally leaving.
The next morning, the email is far from his mind as he fights the weekly uphill battle against the Friday energy on top of the daily energy of young children that have had sugary foods for breakfast.
Maybe he should try some, it might help him get through the morning.
It stays out of his mind until Ciri approaches him, looking uncharacteristically shy. She produces from behind her back a small stuffed animal goat and a handmade card before rushing back to her seat.
He takes a moment while his students are at stations to take a closer look at the card. It reads “You herd it here first” on the outside above where Ciri has drawn a goat, and “We’re sorry! No kidding!” on the inside. It’s been signed by Ciri, Eskel, Geralt, and Lil’ Bleater if he’s interpreting the hoof print correctly.
He sets the goat— Littler Bleater he’s decided to call her— next to his computer, feeling a bit more ready for whatever today might throw at him.