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You'd think after the impromptu introduction and farewell to the iron giant, that Dean’s life would’ve settled into something more meaningful but alas - Hogarth grew up and left town to pursue a more extensive education in engineering. He was a smart kid, and Dean was begrudgingly very proud of him. The life he thought might come about with Annie didn’t seem to manifest and while initially it was very promising , what they had prior to Hogarth's departure didn’t hold very long and he found himself at a divergence. Frustrated and lost once again.
It didn't help that his career as an artist (and junkyard owner) was ill paying but the real nail in the coffin was the subsequent lack of funding for what he hoped to be his life's work. A giant sculpture of the Iron Giant. He had everything, metal, will and artistic vision. Logistically though, there were a few gaps that needed tending to. The main one being his lack of tools. Tractors, trucks and lifts were all pretty crucial for such a large scale sculpture. So he resigned himself to entering the job market again, If only for a short while.
Picking up a teaching gig was definitely not what he wanted, it didn’t matter that it was an admirable profession or that it paid decently, he was fighting for his life every class. It was a colony of a million hyperactive and insanely talkative monsters that pestered him to no end. Not to mention art was the last class of the day, any hope for diplomacy was futile. The children were heathens.
He'd just started a class on the anatomy of the human body when it all went to sh- (PG, got to keep it PG) went bad. There was paint on the walls, from where - remained a mystery. Not to mention the cacophony of voices all yelling for no apparent reason. This class was by far becoming a most difficult one.
Rubbing his temples Dean prayed for some miracle that would get these kids to settle. He didn’t understand, how on earth have they not tired themselves out yet! Surely they must exhaust themselves out eventually. But no! They showed no signs of stopping. (sedation sounded awfully tempting right now, but unfortunately that remained universally illegal)
“Mr teacher” a voice mumbled pulling on his sleeve.
No one called him that, it was oddly formal and a little awkward for a title.
“Yeah kid” he said automatically, turning to face the offending party, who to his surprise was holding up a very detailed drawing of the human skull. The picture practically covered the kids face but he could tell it wasn't one of the trouble makers. As you do after you assessed the class (and singled out the students who sought out trouble)
“Woah, you drew this? It looks great” he said, softening slightly despite himself, the kid was clearly really trying. It was reassuring at least to know he was getting through to some of them. And in all honesty getting through to one kid out of twenty seven might even make this whole teaching thing worth wild. The feeling of warmth has yet to leave him from “mentoring” Hogarth. He wasn’t really the best mentor, but he, like many others, wanted to make a difference.
“For you” the kid urged, pushing the drawing closer. They had to get on their tip toes to push up as close as possible to his face. Dean carefully took the drawing and inspected it, his gaze sweeping over them. Now he wasn’t a detective or anything, I mean not really, but he could tell something was up with this kid. They seemed sweet but a little off, both because of their unstable footing and odd intonation.
“Thank you, you alright there?” Dean hummed, gently lowering the picture so that he could get a good look at their face. Their eyes were slightly watery and he could hear the nassaly breathing from where he was standing. Yeah definitely not quite ok, they seemed increasingly unfocused, blinking as if it would help them stay awake.
“You look rough kid, feeling under the weather?” He asked slowly, still being a bit more gentle than he usually would be. He didn’t really know this kid but he was responsible for them, and the rest of the class, so better safe than sorry, he didn’t need a kid fainting or puking (lord, anything but that)
The kid nodded slowly, rubbing their eyes with their fists. The dichotomy between the kids alleged age and their childish behavior was concerning, considering this was one of his older classes.
“How about this, I’ll make you some tea from the teachers lounge, just take it easy” he said uneasy, he had no idea how severe of an ailment this kid was harboring, and kids could get pretty sick.
The kid only nodded and yawned “okay, Mr teacher”
After looking at the chaos residing in his classroom Dean cleared his throat as an attempt at getting the class's attention. Unsurprisingly it was ineffective. He looked over to a young girl named Alyssa, a smart kid. The responsible ones that made you wonder how you weren't more organized yourself. He tapped her table to get her attention
"Don't let them set the classroom on fire, yeah?” he said, though it was borderline begging. Alyssa (bless her) and saluted him, taking on her role with newfound vigor.
Dean sighed then declared to his students that he was going to be back in five minutes and anyone who caused trouble would be sent to the principal. It was a weak threat but it worked (ish)
He returned a few minutes later with a small paper cup, it was full of crappy black tea - the kind they stock everywhere, two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of milk (fancy, and the milk has yet to expire so it was even more fancy!)
“Careful, it’s hot” he said, placing it on the kids desk. They nodded sleepily.
The rest of the class he spent glancing back at the kid, he couldn't help it! He was overwhelmed with concern. The kid was so quiet and they weren't complaining about anything, which was more worrying because he could tell they weren't ok, at least not really.
After announcing the prompt and handing out materials (a limited amount, after all any form of supplies could enable trouble-making) he walked over to the kid, who was nodding off. Their head bobbing as they continuously jolted awake. His frown deepened.
“How's the tea? That's some gourmet stuff” he said crouching down by their desk, they offered a little smile and thanks.
“Kid, you look kinda rough no offense. Do you want to go to the nurse, i can give you a hallpass, it's no problem” he offered. It was a weak attempt to get them checked out properly. Of course they stubbornly shook their head.
“No thank you, I'm ok. Art class is my favorite class” the kid said with a tired smile, their legs kicking under the desk.
“Yeah i get it but ya know your health takes precedence" he tried to argue, the kid shook their head again. He looked them over again. Trying to gauge how they genuinely felt, then carefully and slowly, giving them time to abject or retreat, he reached out a hand to check their forehead.
Hot. The kid was running a fever.
It seemed like the kid was slowly losing steam. Reluctantly Dean shrugged off his jacket, folding it on the table as a makeshift pillow. (It was covered in kids germs already, what are some more gonna do) he eased the kids head down and rubbed their back, the poor thing. Letting the kid sleep through the lesson Dean went back to checking the tables and “grading” not that he took it particularly seriously, most of the kids drawings were profoundly halfhearted abstract scribbles.
The bell rang shortly after and the rest of the kids erupted in screeching, it was the last bell of the day and therefore a very foreseeable phenomenon. By now he knew when to cover his ears. As the last of the kids filtered out he went over to the sleeping artist in the back, gently shaking their shoulder.
“Lets get ya home, i think you could use some chicken soup and a nap” he said helping them sit up. He took their bag for them, it looked heavy and he was afraid they may topple over. Then, guiding them out the door and out the front gate he took them to the drop off station. When the kids mom came by he handed over the bag and gave them both a little wave.
“Bye Mr teacher, hope you like your picture” the kid mumbled sleepily, face half pressed into their moms side.
“Thanks kid, I appreciate it. Feel better!” Dean said, fighting a fond smile. Maybe teaching wasn't all bad.