Chapter Text
Upon gathering up all the kids for a regularly scheduled morning meeting on the carpet, Branzy can tell it's been a rough morning for everyone.
Children can be difficult to handle. They present unique challenges that Branzy is only familiar with after dedicating a few years to caring for them.
Tousled hair, crooked clothes, and slightly red faces are typical sights on the first day. Transitioning young children into school, even just kindergarten, is like playing chess on a minefield.
Even so, Branzy can’t help but love them.
Every frustration fades instantly when he sees them running around with one another, or staring up in wonder at something as they see it for the first time.
His class is blessedly small this year, making it a little easier to keep an eye on everyone.
Every little face before him is recognizable from his attendance list. He took care to look over it the night before, committing faces and at least one note from their guardian to memory.
Branzy claps his hands once to bring attention to himself.
”Good morning, everyone!” He greets, receiving a mix of shouted and muttered echoes.
”I’m Branzy,” he continues, “and I’ll be your head teacher for the year.”
A few kids, mostly the same ones who shouted before, nod along.
”Hmm,” he pretends to think to spark curiosity in his students, “how about for this morning’s activity, we all go around and say our names?”
Branzy has learned better than to complicate morning activity on the first day. Names introduce them to each other, and help him get a read on their feelings and personality.
A little avian’s hand shoots up.
”I’m Theo!” He nearly yells, bouncing on his knees where he sits.
”Loppezz,” the girl next to him follows, starting a pattern.
”I’m Zam.”
”Flame.”
”Lomedy!”
“Wifies.”
”Parrot.”
”Rejoice!”
”Spoke! Hi!”
“I’m Ken.”
”Wato.”
”Wemmbu.”
Branzy looks to each speaker to further tie names to faces, running through the attendance list in his mind.
Morning time concludes with a dismissal for the kids to go play.
Starting with free time is usually a good way to let the kids get used to their environment and become comfortable with one another.
It doesn’t usually spark fights.
One of the helpers takes Flame to one side of the room while Branzy has a conversation with Wemmbu on the other.
The little hybrid, a fellow dragon, huffs and crosses his arms, tucking bleeding knuckles into his elbows.
It’s normal for kids to test boundaries and throw fits.
It’s not normal for them to punch each other in the mouth.
The boys both have to apologize, despite Flame’s insistence that Wemmbu started it.
They’re seated in opposite corners with an adult until their guardians arrive.
Mane’s obvious anger at the call is only rivalled by his relief when he sees his brother is okay.
Flame’s ears press flat against his head when Mane lifts him into his arms, and his tail wraps around his older brother’s leg.
Wemmbu’s guardians, two spider hybrids, stand at his side while Branzy fills them all in on what transpired.
One of Wemmbu’s guardians approaches Branzy when the brothers leave, letting the other tug Wemmbu outside by his wrist.
”I apologize for his behaviour,” the man’s voice is deep and gravelly, “he’s still adjusting.”
“I understand,” Branzy sympathizes, having seen many kids act out due to anxiety over transitional phases, “just— maybe talk to him, okay?”
The man’s fangs click together in acknowledgment, and he follows his family outside.
Both boys go home early, the promise of a lecture hanging over their heads.
Someone tugs on his pant leg.
“I’m sorry,” a small voice apologizes immediately.
Branzy looks down to find Jaden, and crouches down to be closer to his eye level.
”Why are you sorry?” The teacher asks.
”Flame ‘n’ Wemmbu were only fighting ‘cause of me,” Jaden explains, hands clasped in front of himself to stop any nervous fidgeting.
“Can you explain to me what happened?” Branzy shifts fully down to his knees.
”Flame took something from me, so Wemmbu hit him,” Jaden twists a little fake gold cuff link between two fingers. Branzy recalls his parents mentioning he was a pirate enthusiast, which explains his outfit.
”I’m sorry that happened, Jaden,” Branzy’s hand rests over his own heart, “thank you for coming to me and being honest.”
”Are they gonna get in trouble?” Despite the black mask covering the lower half of his face, Branzy can tell Jaden is pouting.
He resolves himself enough not to fold immediately.
”Well, a little. It wasn’t okay for Flame to take something from you, and it also wasn’t okay for Wemmbu to hit him,” he reasons, “so they both had to go home early.”
”Okay…”
Jaden seems a little upset, but he goes back to playing without further prompting.
The rest of playtime is blessedly normal, and it isn’t until snack time that Branzy rethinks his career choice.
Each child, and helper, sits on one of the colourful puzzle pieces that slot together to create a soft surface on the floor.
“Mr. Branzy?” Wifies turns away from Parrot, who is staring blankly at a wall, to address the teacher.
“What is it, Wifies?”
”What’s the point of trying to be good or successful if our lives are predetermined?”
…
Suddenly, Branzy is equally as interested as Parrot in a spot on the colourfully painted wall.
Branzy desperately tries to change the subject to avoid giving a four-year-old an existential crisis.
”That’s a pretty big word for someone your age,” he compliments, “where’d you learn that one?”
Wifies has already turned back to Parrot, shaking him out of his stupor.
Never before has Branzy been so grateful for the short attention spans of small children.
”Parrot!” Wifies shakes his avian friend a little harder, sending a few colourful feathers falling to the floor.
Parrot turns to him slowly.
”Bro,”
He stares like his eyelids are glued open.
”What if I’m destined to be a bum?”
”Parrot, that’s not a nice word,” Branzy reminds, trying to distract the boy from his little spiral.
Parrot stares him directly in the eyes.
”But what if it’s true?”
…
Maybe this class is going to be a little more difficult than originally anticipated.