The day passed quickly and before he knew it, it was time to pick up Francis from school. As he packed up his briefcase, he called his driver and ordered the man to be ready outside within five minutes. The man was waiting for him when he exited the building so he slid into the back seat and the car drove off.
They arrived at the school after a short trip and Arthur had the driver park so he could enter the school. Many children were waiting outside but Francis was not among them so he continued past them into the building. A woman sitting behind a counter stopped him and he informed her that he was looking for his student. With a nod, the woman checked which teacher Francis had and called him.
"Alright," she started as she hung up. "He was talking to the teacher and they just finished so he'll be here in a few moments. Please have a seat while you wait." She motioned to one of he chairs in the room. Arthur did as he was asked and shortly Francis walked in, looking at the floor under his shoes. When he entered, his guardian rose from his seat and walked to his side, leading him out of the school.
"How was your day?" Arthur asked him.
"Fine," was the short response he received.
Arthur looked at him out of the corner of his eye but decided to let the conversation drop. If Francis didn't want to talk then there was no reason to push it. He would speak if and when he wanted to.
The two climbed into the car and the driver helped Francis into and secure his booster seat before closing the door and slipping back into the front.
Francis' Day
Francis was shaking. All of the other students seemed to be staring or laughing at him. No one would help him find his classroom, even when he asked for help. Some of the students started making fun of his accent and saying things about him in the language Arthur used, laughing harder when he didn't understand.
Eventually a young teacher had spotted his wide, terrified doe eyes and come to his rescue.
Kneeling next to him she asked, "What is the matter, dear?" He barely managed to stutter out an answer and she smiled kindly at him. "Don't worry. I'll help you." The nice lady led him through corridors and under arches until they stopped in front of a door. "This is your classroom," she said in a sweet voice.
"Are you my teacher?" Francis finally forced out.
"Oh no, dear. I am a grade 2 teacher but you are not in my class. You are in Mr. Pearson's class."
At that moment, a tall man opened the door.
"Ah, you must be the new student I was told about. Frank, I think?"
"Mr. Pearson, this is Francis. He's a little nervous about his first day of school so please be gentle."
"We'll see about that Miss Gray. Now why don't you run along back to your classroom before the bell rings?"
The woman turned slightly red and hurried off.
"Come in," the man growled to Francis and he had no choice but to enter the room. The classroom was not too small but it felt tiny to the boy as all the students already in the class turned to look at him. "Listen up, brats," the teacher said to the class. "We got another one of you today. His name is Frank." He turned to the boy and pointed at a desk in the back. "Go sit over there." The boy didn't move, not sure what the teacher had said. "Don't be insubordinate." Francis started to shake, nerves on edge from the teacher's hard tone. He felt lost again, like when Arthur had been talking to him in the other language.
Furious that the student wasn't listening to him, the teacher picked the boy up by the bag on his back, carried him over to the desk, and dropped him into the chair.
"Get out your workbooks, turn to page fifty-three, and get to work! Tommy, get Frank a book out of the closet!"
A boy stood up from his seat, pulled a thick workbook out of a cupboard, and threw it at Francis' feet. Jumping at the bang that came from the force of the book hitting the ground, Francis let out a small whimper before reaching down to pick it up.
He placed it on his desk and retrieved a pencil from his bag. The teacher had said something before he was given a book but he wasn't sure what. With a quick look around, he saw that his peers had their books open so he opened his. Peering over at the book of the student next to him, he saw the page number and started to turn to the correct page.
"FRANK!" His head shot up to look at the teacher, eyes wide and full of fear. The man stalked over to him. "There is no cheating permitted in this class!"
The man grabbed Francis' desk and dragged it over to a corner, turning it so it faced the wall instead of the rest of the class. The boy hung his head in humiliation and tried to keep his tears from rolling down his face. He wiped his eyes and turned to the correct page. He froze and felt more tears slide out of his eyes. The problems in the workbook weren't in French so he couldn't read them. He noticed two problems at the bottom of the page that were simple mathematics, using only numbers so he solved them. Turning his attention back to the top of the page, he attempted to look for any words he might know in despair.
When lunchtime finally arrived, the two math problems were the only completed problems on the page.
AN: Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
No Italics- speaking in English