Bill walks down the school hallways and looks for classroom 196, feeling sorely out of place amongst the many childish drawings pinned to long, brightly colored cork boards. What was it that office lady had said? Turn right, left, right . . . left at the bathrooms? Or right? He sighs. Frak it.

"Excuse me," he pulls aside a tall, skinny man with floppy hair and oval glasses and asks, "Can you help me find Ms. Laura Roslin's classroom?"

"Oh, sure! You know I think I'll just show you, come on follow me!"

This man's eagerness is frightening.

Nonetheless, Bill (with some hesitance) follows the giddy creature down the hall and stops after traveling only a short ways. Honestly, he could have just told Bill the room was on the right.

When the man opens the door, Bill is met with quite a sight. All the desks and chairs have been dragged to the walls, making a big space in the center of the room. There's music, and almost two-dozen small children jumping up and down. In the center of it all, jumping as if she's a child herself, is who Bill assumes to be Ms. Roslin.

"Oh, Ms. Roslin!" calls the man, straightening his (polka dot?) bowtie and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Taking note of the large dorky smile plastered to the man's face and the slight coloring to his cheeks, Bill realizes why he was so eagerly escorted to Ms. Roslin's class. This man obviously has quite a crush on the teacher.

At the sound of her name, Ms. Roslin looks up and, noticing Bill, leaves the children and makes her way to them. Suddenly Bill sees the appeal. Slightly breathless with glasses slid all the way down her nose, a messy bun of copper-gold, disheveled clothes, and sparkling green eyes - what's not to like?

"Yes? Can I help you?" Her eyes dart from Bill to the love-struck man beside him.

"Hi Ms. Roslin – er, Laura, I mean uh-"

"I just came because you called about my son, Lee?"

"Oh, you must be Bill Adama! Right, well if you'll please wait here, I'll be right with you. Thank you for bringing him to me, Mr. Kaynard." She nods at the other man, who blushes bright red, mumbles some sort of "you're welcome" and scuttles off. Ms. Roslin giggles lightly and shakes her head, before returning to the students. She turns off the music, eliciting a chorus of "Awww" from the class, and then addresses them.

"All right, it's about time to go. The bell will be ringing any minute so go pack your bags and put the desks back, quick!"

Something about the tone of her voice has the students believing that cleaning up is some sort of game, and they're all quick (laughing, yelling, and bumping into each other all the way) to obey. Even his son, Bill notes, who usually fights tooth and nail against any sort of chore, is eager to be the first to have his bag packed.

The teacher makes a half-hearted attempt at straightening her attire, but gives up once her glasses are pushed back to their proper place.

"Sorry about that," she says, walking over to Bill and crossing her arms. Funny how she can look so professional with bangs askew, strands of hair escaping her bun and without a pair of shoes. "I couldn't very well take the children outside in the rain for recess today, so I had to improvise with a few indoor games."

"It's fine," Bill chuckles, secretly amused by her. "Am I early?"

"A little, yes." She laughs. "But it's all right; class ends in just a couple-"

A loud, buzzing bell interrupts her. She grimaces and points up.

"Now, actually. Oh, watch out!"

She pulls him out of the way just as a stream of kids rushes past.

"Goodbye Ms. Roslin!"

"Thank you!"

One child runs up, hugs the teacher, yells out a goodbye, and then dashes back through the door. After Ms. Roslin calls out farewells to the rest of the class, Lee is the only one left.

"Hi Dad! What are you doing here?"

"He's just here for a meeting with me, Lee; everybody's parents have to do it every once in a while. Why don't you go ahead and get a head start on that reading assignment while you wait? This shouldn't take long."

Lee shrugs and goes to sit down, opening his bag and pulling out a book.

"I know the chairs are a bit small, but if you'll have a seat . . .?"

Ms. Roslin gestures towards a bright orange chair, and pulls a purple one forward for herself. They both sit, albeit awkwardly.

"So, you mentioned Lee was," Bill glances at Lee, and lowers his voice slightly, "falling behind? That doesn't sound like him."

"Yes, he is, and I agree that it is odd. He's a very bright boy and an enthusiastic learner; I've never had any problems with him until a couple weeks ago. He's doing especially poor in math at the moment; nothing is so captivating about numbers compared to a fun story, I suppose. I was wondering if maybe there's anything going on at home that could be distracting him?"

Well, this woman gets right to the point, doesn't she?

"Actually," Bill leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. "Lee's mother and I, our divorce finally got finalized about a month ago, and," he sighs, "his mother . . . has some issues to work through, so I have full custody of Lee and his brother. Please, I'd like this to stay between you and me."

"Of course, Mr. Adama. Gods . . ." she looks over to Lee with genuine concern, giving a small sigh. "It must be so hard for him. Is he the older brother?"

"Yeah."

Laura nods.

"He's very responsible."

"Is there anything we can do? I don't want him to fall too far behind."

"Oh, there's always something we can do." Ms. Roslin smiles. "While I feel that singling him out during lunch or recess would do more harm than good, I'd be happy to work with him after school."

"I'm sorry, I don't have the money for tutoring-"

"Don't worry about that. You don't have to pay me anything."

"Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. Parents always find this hard to believe, but I want your child to succeed just as much as you do. I'd be happy to do it."

"That's very kind of you, Ms. Roslin, but I don't have a way to pick him up that late. I'm in the process of getting a bookstore off the ground; it took considerable bribing just to be here today."

"A bookstore? Lee said you were a viper pilot."

Bill sighs.

"I uh, had an accident. Can't fly anymore."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Yeah, well, it worked out for the best. I get to spend more time with my kids this way."

"I could come to your house."

"What?"

"Private tutoring. I do it all the time for my musical students, it would really be no problem."

"Private . . . are you sure I wouldn't be putting you out? You already spend so much time here."

"I assure you Mr. Adama, it's no problem at all. As I said, I'd be happy to help, and Lee truly is a wonderful boy. He deserves the best. What time works best for you?"

"Well, I have a sitter that watches the boys from two-thirty to five-"

"Monday through Friday from two-thirty to five sounds perfect to me."

"Are you positive you don't want to be paid? I'm sure that-"

"I'm quite sure, Mr. Adama. Should we start tomorrow?"

"I. . . all right, yes. Tomorrow."

They both stand and shake hands.

"Great. See you then."

Bill nods.

"Thank you, Ms. Roslin."

"Anything for my students."

And with that, Bill takes his son and is dismissed from Ms. Roslin's classroom with a smile and a wave.