Chapter 18: First Day of School
Sam rolled over in bed with a sigh, stretching leisurely. Her internal time clock had woken her just minutes before her alarm had gone off. She'd slept well, even though she'd thought she'd be up half the night thinking about the day to come. Her body had different plans though, as she'd come to discover over the last week and a half, shutting down when it decided it needed rest, and her with little to say about the matter. However, she'd discovered to some amusement that while her body might shut down unexpectedly on her, her military internal time clock still functioned perfectly. Lazily, she reached out an arm and turned off the alarm before it could activate, and debated lying in bed a while longer before getting up. And then the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her nose, overlaid with the smell of sizzling bacon, deciding the matter for her. Light clatters from down the hall indicated that her CO was already awake, and she was surprised she'd not heard him get up. But then again, like the shut down, she seemed to sleep like the dead while asleep now.
Thinking about it as she tossed back the covers and stretched bare toes down to meet the plush carpet, wriggling them in pure sensation while she stretched arms overhead, the internal time clock probably wasn't all that much of an oddity. On the rare occasions she'd managed to get out and visit Mark and his family while the kids were on break, the kids seemed to wake at the same time everyday no matter when they'd gone to bed. They seldom gave the adults in the house a chance to sleep late.
Rising, she picked up the bundle of clothing she'd laid out the night before and padded down the hall to the bathroom, pausing again to inhale the mingled aromas coming from the kitchen. She took a quick shower, more out of habit than necessity. Janet had explained that a child's body produced less sweat and oils and therefore did not usually need a daily shower, which may have contributed to her skin breaking out so quickly while using her usual soaps. Still, Sam found the habit hard to break, and took care to use only a small perfunctory amount of soap and shampoo, preferring to revel in the feel of the hot water cascading over her much smaller body. She found comfort in the familiarity. Her fingers encountered the new sore spot on her left hip, but like the still slightly tender injection site on her right side, it didn't feel any worse than the first injection had, and Sam decided she could deal just fine with it without the additions of any of the disgusting children's pain reliever medications. With any luck, the major discomfort would fade by the end of the day.
Shower complete, she dressed quickly and checked her reflection in the mirror while using another stepstool to reach the sink, combing out her damp hair. She made a face at the still somewhat unfamiliar reflection and fished one of the child sized headbands out of the drawer to hold her hair back. After some thought, she and Janet had come up with the solution of using headbands rather than going for a child's haircut. Not knowing how long the mission would last, and remembering returning to adulthood after the last transition with a little girl's bob had helped her decide to avoid a haircut if at all possible, unless the mission became longer term than they hoped.
Washed, dried, and dressed in a new outfit, Sam headed down the hall in her socks. "Morning, sir," she greeted, making a beeline to the coffee pot out of habit, stopping at the last minute to turn and face Jack with a questioning look. She found him watching her in amusement, spatula in hand as he scrambled eggs.
"Morning Sam. I thought I'd have to wake you up. It's decaf," he told her to her unasked question. "Daniel left some for you last night as a surprise. I made my coffee already before I did yours," he added, pointing to the enormous mug near the range top stove. Jack made his coffee strong enough to walk on its own, and drank it black. He also had no reserve about drinking the previous day's leftover coffee after nuking it, maintaining that the taste only grew better as it aged. Sam had slightly more refined tastes, and while she'd drink it black if she had to, she usually preferred to add cream and sugar when she had it, as well as clean the pot and use new filters with each brew. Jack thought that washing the pot took away the "flavor" and had no problem in "recycling" a used filter if no new ones were on hand, but this morning, the coffee pot appeared to have been cleaned before he'd made her decaf. She wouldn't be surprised though if some of the coffee in the huge mug Jack was drinking from stayed there until tomorrow, he'd obviously planned ahead when he'd brought the oversized mug. Sam smiled her thanks over her CO's thoughtfulness, taking the much smaller mug considerately left by the pot and filling it up. There was enough in the pot for two normal sized cups.
"Thank you," she said, inhaling over the cup, eyes partially closed in bliss. It may not have caffeine, but she didn't seem to need it anymore. Even still, the coffee was much appreciated, as well as the care he had taken in making sure his super strong military grade coffee didn't contaminate hers. SG-1 had often joked that Jack's coffee could double as a weapon in times of need, and the man sometimes needed convincing that a cup of coffee, no matter how strong, did not constitute a meal. "I woke up just ahead of the alarm, and before I could even think about going back to sleep, I smelled coffee. Anything I can do to help?" she asked, pausing to add a little creamer to the mug, eschewing the sugar. She had noticed that sugar seemed to have the same effect as caffeine in her adult body did, only much more strongly with a harder crash.
"There's some toast over there, if you want to butter it, I've got the rest under control," he said, waving towards the toaster with the spatula. Jack shook his head in bemusement. "When I had you, Daniel, and Teal'c with me, nothing short of a nuclear explosion got you out of bed, except on the weekends when I wanted to sleep late. Daniel was the only one that had no trouble waking you up, I should have thought of coffee."
Sam grinned and sipped from her mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands before setting it down and getting out butter and knife. It was funny how Jack's recollections matched up with her earlier thoughts on childish sleep habits. Perhaps her adult memories affected more than they knew. "It probably wouldn't have worked, I didn't start drinking coffee until high school at the earliest. Going all out this morning sir?" she asked, glancing at the breakfast preparations before picking up a slice of toast.
Jack shrugged. "It's your first day of school, thought we should have something more exciting than cereal."
She smiled, turning to hide it so he wouldn't see. Letting the comment about first day of school drop, she picked up a slice of toast and instead said, "Thank you sir."
Breakfast was soon served up, Sam pouring her second cup of decaf with her meal, though not finishing it. With so much food, she'd not been able to find the room for two cups like she usually did with breakfast. Finishing, she got up, rinsed her plate and put it in the dishwasher. "I'm going to check my bag again, sir," she said.
Jack looked up from the morning paper, and frowned slightly. "I thought you did that last night," he replied.
Sam just shrugged ruefully. "It can't hurt to check again, it is my first day," she told him.
"Just don't take too long, we should probably head out soon. In my experience, the first week or so of school is a little chaotic," he said, his own amusement evident, but he wisely refrained from making any further comments about Sam being independent for her age. Sam just smiled gratefully, snagging the back to school list that already held two rows of neat checkmarks off the fridge on the way out of the room. Sam knew she'd packed everything from her double check last night, but she felt a compulsion she couldn't explain to check and recheck her supplies, as if she were embarking on an off-world mission, heading far from the gate where new supplies and forgotten items would be hard to obtain. Even though she knew it wasn't the case here on Earth, she still couldn't help it, taking comfort in the rituals of preparing for a mission. It might seem unnecessary or even silly, but she found herself clinging to these small pieces of normalcy in this all too unusual mission.
It only took her a few minutes to run down the list, this time mentally visualizing each item and where it was in her bag rather than unpacking the whole thing again. She'd just finished when Jack made his appearance in the hall. "Got everything?" he asked, eyes still twinkling but underneath the cheer she could read understanding. His outward merriment hid a mask of seriousness.
Sam ducked her head, avoiding her CO's gaze. After all these years together as a unit she knew he could read her like a book. She recognized that she had only to say the word and they would find some other way to get her into the school. In a way, that reassured her more than anything, firming up her resolve. "I'm ready," she announced surely, getting to her feet and leaving the supply list on the coffee table before finally looking up and meeting her CO's gaze.
His dark brown eyes locked with hers, searching, and then he nodded, grabbing the keys and stepping into his loafers without another word on the matter. Sam slowly released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and likewise put on her tennis shoes and picked up her overstuffed bag, following Jack out the door to the SUV they'd left parked in the driveway. She tossed her bag into the back and climbed into her booster seat, strapping herself in automatically.
"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to school we go," Jack chanted cheerfully as he backed out of the drive, falling back into his usual pattern of dealing with serious situations by making jokes or being generally irritating. "We learn some junk and then we flunk, hi ho, hi ho, hi ho."
Sam groaned, dropping her head back against her seat in exasperation. They had a good long drive to the school, and Sam was a virtual prisoner in her child-sized body. She really wasn't up to being subtly tortured the entire way, despite Jack's good intentions. "Please, sir, no singing, I'm going to be getting subjected to enough of that as it is!"
Jack just grinned at her in the mirror, looking slightly triumphant at having found a way to yank her chain. "Aw, why not, we can sing the one about the Wheels on the Bus," he added temptingly. "I always loved that one."
She just groaned again, shaking her head. "You're favorite song is the one about bottles of beer on the wall," she retorted. "Please, just no singing."
In the front seat, Jack pretended to look crushed. "Fine, we'll do it your way." He paused for a moment. "How about we just sing 20 bottles of beer?"
"No!" Sam replied with finality, her hand creeping towards the restraints as Jack pulled to a stop at an intersection. "You even start and I'm outta here. I'll call someone from the base to give me a ride to school," she threatened. Well, she may be a virtual prisoner because of her child guise, but Jack knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
"Oh, and how do you explain why you are wandering the streets all alone?" Jack asked, calling her bluff.
She scowled slightly, and then rallied. "That's not my problem," she said sweetly. "I'll just tell them my dad dropped me off on the way to school."
"Ok, fine, no singing," he promised, giving in while pretending to grumble. He fell silent as he pulled onto the ramp for the highway, distracted by the need to watch the traffic. Sam found herself gazing out the window again, lost in thought. Her memories of kindergarten were vague, scattered remnants at best. There was little in what she could recall to be of any use, and while her sessions with Sergeant Nichols and the brief stay at the daycare center had given her valuable information, she still felt vastly unprepared, having little idea what to expect on a day-to-day basis.
Added to those worries, Sam reflected on the unspoken words that had passed between she and Colonel O'Neill that morning before they'd left. She need only express her doubts and they'd find some other alternative to entering the school an all but helpless child. But even as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She had yet to hear anything about the status of the return mission to P35-437 headed by Dr. Lee. For all she knew, the machine was still off-line. She itched to get her hands on the data, and it was hard taking the back seat when it was her own life at stake. But she had agreed to the mission, despite the unexpected complication of the machine making her appear younger than planned, she'd agreed to take on the appearance of a child. Bailing now would leave the rest of her team going in without her, and she had no intention of doing so. SG-1 was a team, and she was a part of that team, even if she still wasn't sure exactly how effective she would actually be on this mission. Regardless, this Goa'uld had been targeting faculty as well as students and their parents in some cases. Sam had no intention of letting the rest of SG-1 go in without her, even if what she would be able to do might currently seem insignificant.
The scenery passed in a blur as the two occupants lapsed into silence. Despite his earlier outward cheer, Sam could tell by what she glimpsed in the mirror that Jack was also deep in thought.
All too soon, Jack was pulling off the highway and making the turns that would take them to the school. Sitting up, Sam peered out the window as they arrived, surprised at the sheer number of cars, parents, children, and staff literally swarming over the school grounds. Children seemed to be forming into groups by age separated under guidance of faculty and staff. "Wow," Sam murmured, never having taken part with an adult's perspective of the first day of school. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow," she suggested lightly, levity fueled by just a touch of nervousness over the crowds. Even with the main body of the older students already in class, the number of children, teachers, and parents for the Lower School students seemed enormous, at least from her perspective.
Jack smirked at her weak joke, clear from his face that he'd read her unspoken concerns. "Sorry Major," he said, "You have a mission," he told her with mock sternness. "And no, I'm not putting another dollar in that damn jar," he said as he joined the line of vehicles snaking around the horseshoe drive, looking for a place to park. "The mission starts officially now, and I'm ordering you to be careful," he said, glancing back over the seat at her as he pulled into a recently vacated slot. A teacher was already heading their way as he put the truck in park.
Sam met his eyes. "Yes sir," she replied, sitting tall and returning his gaze. She'd made her decision and intended to follow through to the best of her abilities.
The Colonel held her eyes for a moment. "Good luck," he added.
"Thank you sir," she replied, and started to unbuckle her restraints. Jack unlocked the door and slid out as the teacher arrived, pulling open Sam's door and letting her jump down before reaching in and picking up her backpack.
"Good morning," the teacher greeted as she walked up. "And who do we have here?" she asked, looking down at Sam, clipboard in hand.
"This is Sam," Jack said, taking over as a parent would, and speaking for her. Sam bit her lip and let Jack hold her backpack to slide her arms into. "Samantha Lewis. She's just starting kindergarten today," he said.
The woman nodded, flipping through her papers. "I have her right here, in Mrs. Guilford's class. Her group is gathering right over there by the playground, next to the slide." The woman pointed helpfully, and both Sam and Jack looked in the direction to find a small group of children Sam's size already forming around a woman of medium height with graying hair pulled back into a neat bun.
Jack knelt on one knee, stifling a quiet groan as he turned her to face him. "Be good now, Sam," he said loudly, and then leaned in closer to speak quietly into her ear, even though the teacher was already moving away to a car that had just stopped next to theirs. "Don't hesitate to use that thing, ok? You've got it right?" he asked needlessly, referring to the emergency beacon that Daniel and Teal'c had delivered just the day before, the devices barely ready in time.
The items had been disguised as functional, waterproof, impact resistant watches, Sam's being child sized. If she accidentally lost it, or anyone found it and pressed the buttons, it would react like a normal digital watch. However, by depressing the various buttons in a certain sequence, the device activated, therefore minimizing any false alarms should the item be jostled or dropped. There were four different beeps the watches produced, alerting all of them and the nearby teams to whoever had activated the beacon. The time display would convert to a compass heading. Teal'c, Daniel and Jack all had military issue styled watches, and on Sam's watch, the compass points around the watch face had cleverly been disguised as designs to make her watch look more like a kids' watch, also with a vague military style not all that uncommon, including the camouflage print Velcro wristband. They had all taken immediately to wearing the devices at all times, even in the shower.
Sam nodded to Jack's question, showing her wrist, and then conscious of the number of people around her, and the goodbyes, some cheerful, some reluctant, some teary by both parents and children, Sam threw her arms around Jack in a brief hug. So brief he barely had time to reciprocate before she squirmed out of his grasp, taking on the appearance of the more eager group of children her age.
"Bye dad!" she called as cheerfully as she could, turning towards the group by the playground.
"Sam, wait!" Jack called, and Sam turned around confused. "Smile!" he called, snapping a quick photo with a digital camera she hadn't noticed him carrying. She scowled slightly at her CO, and he snapped another photo. "First day!" he crowed.
Shaking her head, Sam joined the stream of children moving in the direction of the playground. Halfway there, she turned back around, finding Jack pausing near the SUV, watching her. She smiled, and waved, trying to convey confidence even if she was anything but. Jack waved back, and snapped another photo. Sam rolled her eyes in dismay and trudged the rest of the way. She gave one last glance over her shoulder as she reached the playground, and her eyes sought out the spot where Jack had just been moments before. A car and a slightly harried mother ushering three children of different ages out of the vehicle and towards the school had replaced the now familiar SUV.
This was it. The mission had started.
Sam's first impression of the goings on was one of barely contained chaos. A seemingly endless stream of vehicles discharged children of all ages from as young as five to about ten or eleven or so. The older kids jumped out and headed confidently to the right places with little or no direction from faculty on hand, parents waving as they pulled away. Other smaller children were assisted out of cars and trucks, parents calling after them with forgotten items, or pausing to make tearful goodbyes.
Reaching the playground, Sam found a small group of five year olds and two adults. The one she'd noted earlier with the tight, gray bun was sternly correcting a young boy who had started to stray from the group, busy kicking pinecones. The woman corralled the errant child back in line before moving on to the next apparent lack of discipline. A second woman, this one much younger with short, brown wavy hair and cheerful hazel eyes approached Sam with a small box in hand, a clipboard balanced on it. She crouched in front of Sam and smiled. "Hello dear, are you starting kindergarten?" Sam nodded silently, her eyes busy taking in the activity around her.
"What's your name sweetie?" the woman asked, and dragged her attention back to the present.
"Sam," she answered. "Sam Lewis, ma'am," she added.
The woman smiled reassuringly, scanning her list and taking her distraction for nervousness. "Ah yes, there you are," she said, making a mark on the paper. "I'm Ms. Hans. I'm Mrs. Guilford's helper. She's your teacher. Let's get your name badge," she said, as she set down her clipboard and rooted through the small shoebox. "Here it is, let's just put it on now." Sam obediently stood still, despite the fact she was perfectly capable of pinning on the badge herself. She looked at the simple printed paper card inside a plastic protector, her shortened name surrounded by small stickers shaped like green leaves.
Sam looked up as the woman spoke again. "Now come with me Sam, we'll get your place in line, we're almost ready to go inside," she said, collecting the box and clipboard before rising and offering her hand. After a moment of hesitation, Sam took the hand, remembering how Daniel had done so that first trip out after her transition. This time, her nerves were for a totally different matter, but still she took small comfort in the woman's warm, sure grasp as the led Sam over to a slightly ragged double line of children, all about her same size.
"You can stand right here Sam, next to Nathan and behind Susie," Ms. Hans directed, letting go of her hand.
"Yes, ma'am," Sam replied, taking the requested space. The woman smiled again, leaving her alone with the other children as she went to greet another newcomer. She looked at the children around her, and saw that Nathan looked petrified, as if ready to break into tears at the slightest provocation. The little boy was a bit taller than she was, and had dark hair and glasses. She tried to smile reassuringly at the little boy, but her own nerves must be showing, because the boy took a step back and looked away, twisting the dangling strap from his backpack around his fingers. Looking to Susie on her other side, she found the girl cheerfully swaying as she chanted a little rhyme in a singsong voice. Her light brown hair was braided, and her movements made the braids swing about. She seemed content being in her own little world. Both children also wore similar name badges with green leaves. The little girl behind her with a long blond ponytail was busy as Sam was in watching everything going on around her, her eyes wide. Her badge said her name was Stephanie, but her leaves were yellow. She seemed disinclined to stray from her present location. From what Sam could see of the children in her new class group, a few were chatting or giggling, and others were wide eyed and curiously looking around them, obviously a bit intimidated by the mass collection of students and staff.
It seemed to take forever, but Sam knew that only minutes had passed before all the gaps in the line were filled in and Ms. Hans and Mrs. Guilford were calling the class to order. The line of cars had dwindled to a mere trickle, a few late-come stragglers or those delayed by the earlier long line.
"Now, everyone take the hand of the person next to them, that's right," Mrs. Guilford ordered, and Ms. Hans moved down the line, making sure the little group was connected. "Boys in this line, girls in that one, take hands and follow the leader in front of you."
Sam found she was still behind Susie, and next to Nathan, who sniffled loudly before wiping the back of his hand across his nose. This accomplished, he tentatively held his hand out to Sam, and Sam had to fight down the urge to refuse, accepting the slightly damp hand in hers.
The line began to move, following other class groups into the school building. Sam could see the heads of adults towering over their students and little else, and was somewhat grateful for the other little hand, even a germ infested one, clasped in hers. At least it was unlikely she'd get lost or separated, which no doubt was the point of the little exercise in caution by the two adults in charge. Sam was both relieved and embarrassed, and struggled to get a grasp on her emotions. She was perfectly capable of handling herself if she got separated, but it was something about her lack of freedom and being so small that the world seemed much bigger than normal that set her off-kilter. She was reminded of her earlier feelings that first time out in public after her transition, and was dismayed to find she was still affected by the world around her. She thought she'd adjusted well over the last week.
They entered the school and made a left, following the hall down to the end. Sam looked around her committing the way to memory, forcing herself to concentrate by falling back on her military training, mentally matching landmarks and directions with the ones she'd studied on the blueprints and directory while at the same time scanning what she could see for anything at all unusual or out of place. So far though, everything was unremarkable, this school not at all dissimilar to any of the many she'd spent time in as a child. No matter the level of funding, the basics were all the same.
Their class was in the front corner of the building, and Sam could hear the teacher ahead directing the students as they entered the room to take their assigned seats. Ms. Hans took up the rear, watching out for stragglers. Sam and Nathan arrived in the doorway and were directed to a nearby table, each place marked with the child's first name or nickname, the colorful taped on place cards also adorned with the same green leaves that were on the name badges. With the teacher urging her to her seat, Sam had little time to look at anything else. She found she was seated next to Nathan, and across from Susie. Looking at the other nametags, Sam saw that the little boy on her other side with tousled brown hair was named Jerry, and Bridget was seated on the other side of Nathan. A third boy, with curly blond hair named Mike, rounded out the little group of six. They were alternated boy/girl around the oval table.
Dropping her backpack on the floor, Sam looked around the room to find a total of three identical tables in the center of room, every seat with a name at it, bringing the class size to eighteen, the number matching her recollection of the average kindergarten class size from the school's brochure. In the center of each table was taped a large, colorful leaf in a bright solid color. Her table had a green leaf. The other two tables had a yellow one and a red one. The leaf motif was repeated around the room, this time all three colors mixed in with letters, numbers, and other age appropriate decorations above chalkboards and what appeared to be stations with different functions around the perimeter of the room. There were even different colored leaves taped to the carpeted floor. Before she had time to puzzle out the meaning of the leaves on the tables and around the room, the PA system came to life, first playing a bit of music, and then the Principal came on, welcoming the students back to school and giving a brief rundown on the day's important information before signing off.
Before much of the class had time to wonder what to do next, Mrs. Guilford was clapping her hands to get attention. "Ok, class, I'm Mrs. Guilford, I'm your teacher. Welcome to kindergarten. Now, before we get started, everyone stand up now, and face the flag over there," she urged, "Yes, that's right, now place your right-hand over your heart, like this," she said, she and Ms. Hans both making an exaggerated movement with their backs to the class. Ms. Hans moved about the room after a moment to correctly position a few children who needed an extra hand as Mrs. Guilford continued. "Now children, repeat after me. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America…"
Sam straightened, the simple pledge grounding her in a way that surprised her. Her entire childhood, every school day had started with this simple ritual, and her life in military service gave her pledge even more meaning. It was all she could do to hold back from speaking or mouthing the words as Mrs. Guilford recited them, the words ingrained deeply in her memory, instead doing her best to mimic the other children around her dutifully repeating in a slightly ragged chorus what was still unfamiliar to most of them.
The pledge completed, the children were directed to leave their bags by their desks, and gather on the carpet in front of a large calendar display, permanent lines forming a grid on a magnetic dry erase board. Collections of magnets were grouped around the calendar, depicting everything from holidays and other celebrations to what looked like weather conditions. A magnetic flag was placed over Monday, obviously depicting the previous day's Labor Day holiday. A miniature school building was placed on the current day. Mrs. Guilford stood by the calendar and using a pointer, pointed out the current day with its little school magnet. "Yesterday was Monday. Now class, who knows what today is? Raise your hand if you know the answer." Mrs. Guilford lifted a hand in demonstration, and after a moment, a few hands tentatively poked into the air, and Mrs. Guilford chose a young, redheaded boy with freckles. "Yes, Tommy?"
"Friday?"
Mrs. Guilford smiled. "Good try. No, today is Tuesday. Class, let's say it together, today is Tuesday." A hesitant repetition answered. "I don't think Ms. Hans heard all of you there in the back," she said, motioning in the aide's direction, while Ms Hans pretended to cup her ear from her perch on one of the student tables behind the group, some of the children looking around at her over-emphasized movements and giggling. "Let's try that again," directed Mrs. Guilford, regaining the attention of the class. This time, the reply came with more gusto. Mrs. Guilford then repeated the lesson by going over yesterday again and then tomorrow, the class dutifully repeating the teacher as a group. She then selected Tommy for his good effort to pick out a magnet from a group along the side of the magnetic erase board to choose the weather for the day. Tommy correctly picked the smiling sunshine magnet, beaming over the praise he received as he sat back down with the class as Mrs. Guilford told the class it was September.
The lesson over, Mrs. Guilford directed the children back to their seats, she and Ms. Hans helping the class find their correct seats. Once seated, Mrs. Guilford called for attention again. "Now, class, let's all get settled in." She approached Sam's table, and glancing to the side, Sam thought Nathan looked terrified, some of the other children at the table not much better, at least to her perspective. The woman either didn't notice, or was so used to the sight of tears she ignored them as commonplace and felt the best way to deal with them was to keep them all busy. Judging by the increasing number of sniffles and wide eyes in the room, Sam was guessing the latter. She pushed the thought aside as Mrs. Guilford continued. "Now, you six are my Greens. So whenever you hear me call for the Greens that means I want you six. For now, I would like you to please take out your extra change of clothes and your towel, and put them on the table. Ms. Hans will be along shortly," she said, already turning to the next group. "Now, you are my Yellow group," she continued, the introductions sounding like an oft-repeated ritual. Despite her outwardly strict and no-nonsense attitude, it was obvious that Mrs. Guilford had been teaching kindergarten for a long time. After a short delay, the children at the table began to poke through bags, and Sam did likewise, pretending to hunt for things although she knew exactly where everything was in her bag.
True to word, Ms. Hans followed not long after, first handing out what looked like small bins of colored plastic blocks and laminated sheets with large numbers on them to the table next to theirs, getting that group started on some different activity. Mrs. Guilford was at the third table, and appeared to be helping those children sort items out of their backpacks and into drawers located under the table at each seat. Once the group with the blocks were working on what appeared to be some individual activity, Ms. Hans made sure everyone at Sam's table had the items out that Mrs. Guilford had requested of them.
She then took the little group back to the partial wall separating the coatroom and picking up a Polaroid camera, had each child stand one by one in front of the bulletin board and snapped off a picture of each of them. The woman handed the photo to each child, and even though the novelty of such photos was not new to most of them, the children seemed to enjoy being able to shake their photos while watching in fascination as the pictures appeared. Sam tried to imitate the actions and reactions of the children around her, pretending awe as the "magical" photo appeared. The last picture taken, Ms. Hans took the group back to the coat room and showed each of them where individual cubbies had been labeled with each child's name in a plastic sleeve hanging from the edge of a shelf at a height the children could easily reach. They were instructed to slip the pictures into the plastic sleeve, the name labels neatly covering the blank portion at the bottom of each Polaroid. The top shelf had enough space to store something the size of a lunch box and the folded or rolled towels. Under the shelf were hooks for coats or jackets. Another shelf near the bottom of the cubby gave enough space for boots or shoes, and the space underneath held two woven shoebox sized baskets, one to hold the spare clothing, and another just the right size to hold small items like gloves, hats and scarves.
When they were done in the coatroom, Ms. Hans took them back to their table in time for Mrs. Guilford to reach the third table, instructing those children to take out their spare clothing and towels, after leaving the second table with crayons and plenty of paper to color on. Ms. Hans moved the little bins of blocks to Sam's table, and passed out the large laminated numbers, the group instructed to place the appropriate number of blocks on the number they were given. Even though Sergeant Nichols had prepped her on usual activities for kindergarten, Sam was still dismayed at the extremely simple math project. The largest number was ten. Numbers were her life, but then again, she'd been able to do much more than count to ten when she'd been five the first time. Still, she took Nichols advice and pretended to concentrate on her given task as the others at her table were doing, using the simple activity to covertly watch the goings on at the other tables.
Each task was slightly different at each table, and as tasks were completed, the tasks rotated around the room until every group had their picture taken and were shown their individual cubbies in the coatroom and were helped to unload their bags. While waiting their turns for tasks requiring more guidance, some groups did simple activities requiring minimal supervision, or were taken to different areas of the room that had various themes, like a computer with simple age appropriate games, a playhouse, a section with various toys, a dress up area, or a corner filled with books and beanbag chairs. All of the children were given time to play freely or move about and explore the designated sections, getting used to the classroom as they settled in. Some of the bolder more confident children engaged others, other children played quietly on their own, and a few spent much of them time watching, needing encouragement to join in. No group spent longer than 15 or so minutes at any given task, and never more than 30 minutes in one place. Bags were unloaded, each item going in the same place in each drawer all around the room, the drawers already holding workbooks again labeled ahead of time with names. The two adults continued skillfully moving around the room assisting a child here, gently correcting another there.
Nathan finally broke down despite attempts to keep him busy and distracted, crying that he wanted to go home, and Ms. Hans appeared as if by magic, Kleenex in hand to dry the tears, redirecting the little boy by engaging him in conversation about the characters on his backpack. As fast as she had come, the woman was off again as soon as Nathan's tears had subsided back into sniffles, off to a little girl at the nearby table who's own tears had overflowed when Nathan's had started. The reason for the box of tissues on the back to school list became readily apparent. There were a few more sniffles around the room, but most of the children, while some still looked frightened, others seemed merely curious, and were easily distracted by the simple activities and tasks of unpacking and getting used to the classroom.
After barely more than an hour, Sam was beginning to think she much preferred off-world missions. Yes, she had to hike often miles when off-world, sleep on the ground, live off of MREs, and sometimes run for her life, but at least off-world she had a P-90 and some explosives. Her respect for the two adults rose several notches. Here were two women, armed with nothing more than a little authority and a box of tissues, who spent a large chunk of every day alone with 18 five year olds. Already, they'd wiped any number of runny noses, tied an indeterminate number of shoelaces, and redirected one child before it could degenerate into a full-fledged tantrum.
Still thinking of Sergeant Nichols' advice, Sam watched the children around her. Forgoing the tearful route, Sam took a path somewhere between eager and wide-eyed, allowing herself to be corrected a few times as she placed things away, intentionally mixing right and left a few times, as she saw many of the other children do despite frequent reminders and prompts from the two adults. She managed to cover her surprise as she was praised for completing tasks correctly. While she knew everything would be pretty basic, it had been a long time since she'd been complimented for something as simple as putting away a box of crayons in the correct place in her desk. Heck, it had been some time since she'd owned a box of crayons.
Backpacks slowly grew lighter as items were unloaded and stowed away, and the two adults began to assist each group of children in setting up folders for sending papers back and forth from school to home and vice versa. The two women placed preprinted labels with each child's name on the folders and added colorful stickers with pictures on the inside pockets of the folders, to further help the children in distinguishing which pockets were for what things. Letters, schedules, menus, and forms to be given to parents were passed out and dutifully placed in the left side pocket with the picture of the house, forms to be returned once completed the next day on the right side, that sticker one of a school. Sam scanned the letter unobtrusively while pretending to put it away in her folder with great care, seeing that the letter was one of introduction from the teacher, and several forms for emergency contact information and the child's preferences for snacks, allergies, naps, etc. The letter explained about the folder, and encouraged parents to check the folder daily, because all daily correspondence and homework assignments would be conveyed back and forth in the folders.
Directions were repeated several times for every task, with the additional backup of one of the adults constantly roaming the room, double-checking that instructions had been followed correctly. Activity began to slow down, and Sam felt like the sniffles started to pick up again as the more emotionally sensitive students became less distracted with the process of settling in. She glanced secretly at her watch and was surprised to note that barely half the morning had passed by.
Just as it seemed that half the class, or at least it felt so to Sam, was on the verge of tears, Mrs. Guilford was at the door, calling the class to line up, in the same order as they had started the day. After a bit of sorting, they were again directed to hold hands with their "partner" in the other line. The class was then taken on a brief tour of the school, again, made to hold hands, with Mrs. Guilford in the lead and Ms. Hans watching the rear.
Because of the size of the school and the shared facilities, they left the lower school building to go to some of the other major buildings. They visited the gym, met the gym teacher, and went to the large but currently empty cafeteria, visiting the lunch line and the table where they would eat at in a few days. They stopped by the library, meeting the librarian and taking a break on the tour to stop and read a story together with the librarian about a child on his first day of school. The children's section of the library was equipped with a well, where the students could sit on tiered steps around a large comfortable chair where the story was read, affording all a clear view of the pictures. The children were encouraged to talk about the story afterwards, a few children raising hands tentatively at first, with more eagerly joining in.
Next, they visited the auditorium, the two adults splitting the children into two groups and the class spent a little time in letting their voices echo back and forth around the large room, encouraged to stomp feet or clap their hands, many students forgetting to be intimidated by the large space with the little game. Each group took a turn on the small stage, waving and calling to the other group taking seats high up in the back row. They then went back outside to spend a short time playing on the playground. Sam saw several children hold back, and decided there was nothing wrong with watching. Ms. Hans smiled at her as she sat under a tree, but didn't push her or any of the other children hanging back from the group to join the more outgoing children boisterously playing and climbing on the jungle gym and other playground equipment or the smaller group beginning a game of Duck, Duck, Goose with Mrs. Guilford.
Refreshed by exercise, they trooped back inside and were led as a group to the bathroom and Sam had to hide her embarrassment over the group trip. Well, at least Nathan washed his hands, a teacher at each one of the restroom doors directing every child to do so if they skipped that step before they could leave the bathroom to get back in line, and praised the ones that did so without prompting. Sam kept her head down to hide flaming cheeks. None of the other children seemed the least bit shy with the teachers standing in the doorway. Once the group was finished with the bathroom, they were taken back to the classroom and collected snacks from backpacks, sitting at their tables to eat them. Sam was surprised to find she was hungry even after her big breakfast that morning. One child was selected to carry a small wastebasket around the classroom to collect the leftover bits and wrappers from the snack, a look of pride on the child's face at being given such an important task.
Papers with three simple outlined leaves printed on them were passed out afterwards, and the children were directed to bring out their crayons, glue, and scissors. They were instructed to color each leaf in one of the three different colors from the tables, the two women again skillfully moving about the room to be sure each child was following directions. Sam mimicked a child at the next table, gripping her fat crayon in her fist, prepared for the soft voice and touch of Ms. Hans, correcting her grip on the crayon while at the same time complimenting Sam's picture despite the fact that Sam had taken care to color out of the lines and not to fill the interior in completely.
Once all the shapes were colored, the class was directed to cut out the leaves on the lines, and then choose the color that matched the one on their table, placing the correct one in the center of the table and then gluing the other colored in leaves to a blank sheet of paper. They were told to write their names on the papers as best they could, using their name cards as a guide, and Sam wrote hers in the childish scrawl she'd been practicing. Some children had little trouble writing their names, a few could get only the first letter, and others merely scribbled something approximating letters. Neither of the adults seemed concerned with the varying degrees of ability exhibited around the room. The two adults had been armed with several sheets of computerized labels with the children's name on them, and Sam got the feeling that the collages left on the desk would also carefully be labeled with the stickers before being collected and that the activity and several others during the day were merely informal tests for them to learn where each of the children were. There was a nearly blank bulletin board in the back of the room covered with a smattering of similar leaves cut from colored paper that Sam suspected would soon contain the little collages. She also suspected that the leaves left off the collages would join the one on the table by the next morning.
That activity complete, the children put away their crayons and scissors, again, placing each item carefully in the same place in every drawer. Sam had time to marvel over the military like orderliness, but she supposed, given the sheer amount of chaos so many young children could get up to, such precautions were a necessity. She was also beginning to suspect that the rituals were something the children would be able to count on as unchanging, bringing safety and stability to the classroom and helping them to settle in more easily.
Next, Ms. Hans and Mrs. Guilford urged the children from their seats and over to the reading corner, helping them find seats on the floor around a wooden chair. Once everyone was settled, the two women started a song, one with easy lyrics and hand motionsthat all the children could quickly pick up on, even if they didn't already know the song, though most of them seemed to know Itsy Bitsy Spider. Sam stifled a groan from her place in the back of the group, choosing the location so she could watch the other students, and remain far enough away from the two adults to not draw much attention to herself. Still, she took the precaution of mouthing the words and trying to look enthusiastic while she made the appropriate movements for the song.
After the song, Ms. Hans appeared with a stack of papers, and Mrs. Guilford began to call individual students to stand up and receive the papers, which turned out to be rewards. The simple certificates had been printed ahead of time, the names handwritten in at some point during the busy day. Sam was surprised to receive one that praised her for being "courteous", but tried to act pleased over the recognition as most of the other children did, the other children not seeming to realize that every child had received some sort of acknowledgment, even if some of the traits had been repeated, or seemed like a bit of a stretch. Having spent the day with Nathan, Sam thought it a bit fabricated that Nathan putting away the toy blocks he'd played with after a reminder from Ms. Hans was being "helpful" but it seemed important that all the children be recognized for something whether it was being helpful, courteous, a good listener, or cooperative. After the little award ceremony, a sticker chart was revealed, bearing each child's name down one side, and the dates across the top. Little star shaped stickers were grouped in the first column by each child's name, and all the children had about the same number of stars. They were told that the stars could be redeemed for awards or various prizes, stars awarded for obeying the teachers and good behavior.
By the time they were finished, the children sent back to their assigned seats and the awards dutifully filed into the home side of their folders with the other forms, it was time to leave for the day. One at a time, each table group filed into the coatroom for any items that needed to go back home, the aide checking that nothing had been left behind. The class again lined up, some of the students remembering his or her proper place and partner without prompting. Those that were confused were quickly sorted out by the two adults, and led down the hall to the exit. The first day was over. Sam felt a mixture of relief and dismay. Given the repetitive nature of the lessons as well as their simplicity, Sam thought she might go slowly nuts. However, she was relieved that she would be able to handle things. She'd managed not to draw any extra attention to herself that day.
Following her class outside, Sam automatically scanned the waiting line of cars, easily spotting Jack and the now familiar SUV. She'd not seen Daniel or Teal'c all day, but wasn't too surprised. Daniel was shadowing another of the languages teachers for older students, and wouldn't be coming to her class until the next day. They'd spent so much time in the classroom that day even with the tour, Sam also hadn't been surprised not to run into Teal'c especially given the size of the school, so seeing a familiar face brought an instant sense of relief. Jack noticed her at the same time, and waved, Sam automatically waving back. Ms. Hans saw the exchange, and verifying that Sam had seen her ride, let her go as she and Mrs. Guilford were doing with the rest of their class.
She had to restrain herself from running towards Jack and the sanctuary of the SUV, barely greeting her CO as she tugged open the back passenger door and tossed her bag inside, clambering up inside.
"Eager to leave, are we?" Jack said teasingly as he got in the drivers seat at a rather more sedate place. Sam sighed as he pulled his door shut, already sending the last of the harness connections home.
"You better believe it sir. You know, I think this mission should qualify for hazard pay," she added.
Jack waggled his eyebrows her over the seat as he turned on the engine and buckled his safety belt. "Bored out of your mind?" he asked.
She sighed. "Like you would not believe. Oh, and I have lots of forms for you to fill out," she told him, deciding she'd had enough of mind numbing activities for the day. Besides, Jack would be expected to sign things on a regular basis, so it made more sense for the forms to be in his handwriting.
"Oh, goody, paperwork," said Jack, sounding less than enthusiastic as he pulled away from the curb, and Sam grinned. If she had to spend the day reviewing letters, shapes, colors, and holding hands to go anywhere, then her CO could put up with filling out a few forms. Sam would of course double check particular forms to make sure he didn't have her taking naps or anything. Actually, she could probably fill those parts out, most of them being options to check off.
"Anything interesting today?" Jack asked.
Sam shook her head. "No sir, we hardly left the classroom except to eat and go to the bathroom and visit a few other places. If there are any Goa'uld or Jaffa hanging about, they aren't in my classroom," she admitted. It would be too easy to find targets on the very first day. "Although, I could swear my teacher could be a Goa'uld underling aside from the lack of naquadah," she added, thinking of the strict, no nonsense attitude Mrs. Guilford had shown that morning, not allowing even the slightest of concessions for the first day of school. She ran a tight ship and could easily be a Drill Sergeant in Basic Training. Jack merely nodded, looking slightly amused.
"Ah well," Jack replied, "We didn't think this would be an easy in and out mission at any rate." He guided the SUV to the on ramp, and glanced in the mirror. "Hey, I'm in the mood for ice cream what about you?" he asked, looking hopeful.
After a moment, Sam returned his grin. "Sure sir, why not?" She could use a treat. Something chocolate maybe, with more chocolate on top. A little whipped cream wouldn't go amiss either. Jack looked pleased, and a few turns later, they pulled into a local Dairy Queen. Sam scrambled out of the truck as soon as Jack had parked, and the two were soon ensconced in a booth, digging into sundaes.
"I could get used to this," Sam said, spooning up equal measures of cold chocolate ice cream and hot fudge, closing her eyes in bliss as the flavors exploded over her tongue. There were some advantages to an increased number of taste buds.
"We could make it a habit."
Sam smiled, and shook her head. "Don't tempt me sir, I need to stay fit for when I'm back on regular duty." She spoke in a normal tone of voice because they were safely tucked away in a corner booth, isolated from neighbors and protected by the sounds of diners and staff as they went about food preparation as the restaurant beginning to fill with a lunchtime crowd.
"So really, how did the day go?" Jack asked, curious as he worked on his own enormous sundae. Sam had gotten a kid's sundae with some extra toppings and thought she'd be hard pressed to finish it, and not for lack of trying. She supposed she could skip lunch today, just this once.
Her shoulders sagged slightly at her CO's question, and she took another bite of chocolate heaven to fortify her. "I really hope we find our target soon sir, because I think I'll go insane. Do you know we did a math exercise today where we had to count out blocks? The highest number was ten." Sam sighed in resignation.
Jack's voice dripped with exaggerated shock. "Ten? You, who can do navigational and wormhole calculations in your head?"
Sam gave the man an evil eye across the table, but Jack just smirked back at her. She shook her head again, digging into the sundae. She could call it therapy. Ignoring her CO for the moment, she continued. "As if that wasn't bad enough, we had to hold hands anytime we left the classroom. I got stuck with Nathan and his runny nose." She sighed again, shaking her head over her misfortune.
"Nathan, hmm?" Jack grinned at her. "You let me know if I need to have a talk with this boy's parents now."
She leveled another glare at her CO turned parental figure. "You know," she said, "I think maybe it should have been you that was reduced to being the kid and not me."
Jack blinked, and then looked marginally contrite. "Hopefully, we'll have this whole mess sorted out soon," he said in way of apology, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl. Sam did likewise, leaning back in her seat. "Should we head home?" he asked.
Sam nodded. "You have a lot of paperwork to fill our after all," she told him, one corner of her mouth twitching up.
He groaned, and got up, picking up the receipt, and Sam slid out of the booth. "I guess I deserve it, no matter what I do I can't seem to escape paperwork!"
"Better you than me sir," she said with conviction.
A/N: Um… Merry Christmas? What can I say? I hope the length makes up for the long delay. Enjoy.