In A Series

It took about four days.
Four days into the new school year before our public personae came out.
For the first three days, the biggest concern our staff had to deal with was the occasional kindergartner missing their mom. And a few first graders too. Mostly we were able to go about the business of starting a new school year. Reminding students that bathroom trips should be confined to recess and lunch, not scattered throughout the day as the notion came to them. Likewise, these periods of play, called recess and lunch, would be punctuated by the sound of a bell. The bell would signify the cessation of play and the resumption of the business of learning.
And for the first three days, business was good. Great, even.
Then, day four arrived. Along with it came the associations of friends who had forgotten that they were mortal enemies just a few months before. Into this mix came the new kids, some of whom determined that the best way to make a name for themselves was to strike out on their own and find a way to disrupt the pleasant order imposed over the playground and hallways. This brought on the following conversation with Mister Caven.
"So, at your old school, did you sometimes have trouble getting along?"
"Yeah."
"How did you deal with that?"
Silence.
"Well, I'll bet that if you got into a fight at your old school, you probably had to get a call home."
Shrug.
"You had a pretty good start this week. Did you make any friends?"
Shrug.
"Well, you don't have to be friends with everyone," I suggested, "but it would be nice."
Yet another shrug.
"So I'll let you know: If you have trouble getting along with anyone, I'm happy to help."
No shrug.
"Not just me. Any grownup here. They would much rather have you getting along than getting in fights."
"Yeah."
"So, if you need help, before it becomes a fight, you come and find me. Or any other grownup."
"Yeah."
"You promise." I looked for his eyes, and stuck out my hand.
He shook it. "Okay."
Day four.