Free Fat School Confidential by Joe Rourke

back with her early on.
        “ So, is it available?”
        “ You didn’t hear it from me, but yes, it’s available,” she replied, adjusting her headset.
        “ Cool.”
        I set up shop in my new digs. The new office was tiny, but it had a loveseat next to the desk, a huge, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the opposite wall, and a window overlooking the main entrance. Most important, the office was all mine. To add a more personal touch, I brought in an assortment of collectibles from home—giving everyone a sense of who I was off the clock. Staff offices were often adorned with personal knick-knacks from home. Why shouldn’t I do the same? Various-sized Godzilla and other monster action figures, tin toys, B-movie posters, and movie-related accoutrements now shared space with schoolbooks, files, and A.O.S. literature. My son wouldn’t miss them. At home he had plenty of Kaiju toys to spare. Besides, with rehearsals and lesson planning occupying more and more time before and after school, I needed a home away from home.
        Okay, so I didn’t need a home away from home. But part of me had a real problem delegating authority and trusting that someone else could watch over my students while they worked on Little Shop. Another part of me felt my job hinged on turning in a stellar production. The truth was, my job was secure—so long as I didn’t screw up anywhere else.
        With the additional workload, time spent with my family was squeezed into a couple hours a day, with the weekends offering precious little more. But I made that time count.
        With Halloween closing in, the air in Central California had cooled to the high-fifties. The plans this particular Saturday were to keep Bobby occupied, while Mama made the little guy’s costume. Never one to settle for a prepackaged, commercial outfit, Ellie loved creating from scratch. This Halloween was no different. She was going to transform “The Dude” into “The Gnome.”
        “ If you could keep him for as long as you can, that would be great,’ Ellie said, sewing away at the kitchen table. In blue jeans and a simple black blouse, she seemed strangely overdressed to be stuck at home. But that was part of the charm. She never could look frumpy. And I loved her for that.
        I took the little guy to grab a bite to eat, then off to a pumpkin patch. Situated a couple miles north of Reedley, the Hillcrest Pumpkin Farm had everything: piles and piles of pumpkins, rope bridges, walkways, and hideouts. Most of all, the farm had a miniature, working steam locomotive.

    “ Papa, look at the smoke!” Bobby exclaimed, pointing at the thick plume rising from the engine.
        “ Wanna ride it?” I asked. With a smile that could light up the dark side of the moon, the little guy nodded.
        The Hillcrest & Wahtoke was big enough to carry full-sized passengers, but small enough to circle the grounds more than once. The look on Bobby’s little mug when he first saw that train said it all. And when we took a ride on that train, winding through a vast Christmas tree farm, I realized that although we were miles and miles away from the familiarity of L.A., I could get used to this. Sure, L.A. had two sets of miniature trains in Griffith Park, but they were smack-dab in the middle of the city. Here, we had room to stretch our legs—literally and figuratively.
        “ I want to go on it again!”
        “ You sure you don’t want to pick a pumpkin first?”
        Nodding his head, Bobby indicated he wanted to stay on the train as long as he could. Never one to refuse a request by my little prince, I paid for two more trips before grabbing a bowling-ball-sized pumpkin. We went home, satisfied, the smell of hot oil and smoke still tickling our insides.
        Back at school, I talked Daniel into using the abandoned art classroom behind the Admin building for my drama class. The workout room had long outlived its