Free A Flower for Angela by Sandra Leesmith

struggling to understand.
    "Who was misbehaving? Everyone was working today—even Fernie."
    Fernie had been on his best behavior to impress the “big telebision mans” as he called Ricardo, Ken and the rest of the crew. Smiling to herself, she imagined the restraint Fernie must have used to control his hyper-energy. Couldn't Ricardo see that and appreciate the effort?
    "They were all running amok again," Ricardo protested, and Angela could hear his frustration.
    Movement across the courtyard caught her attention. Lupe and Cathy had been watching the exchange between her and Ricardo. Great . Now the two would really have something to gossip about. She hoped they were far enough away that they couldn’t hear what was being said. All she needed was to have Ricardo's criticism bandied about the school. And those two women would see to it that it was.
    Annoyed with Ricardo and the whole situation, she swung around and continued toward her classroom. Ricardo seemed taken aback, but that was too bad. They needed to finish this discussion in private.
    As he followed her, she lowered her voice to ensure Cathy and Lupe wouldn't overhear her. "It doesn't look like it to you, because of your preconceived notions, but I run a very strict class."
    Her linen slacks swished together with her quick steps. Ricardo lengthened his stride to keep up with her.
    "The rules are simple, but enforced. Every child has had it drilled into them that they are at school to learn and in class they work . If they want to play, I tell them to stay home. If they insist on playing at school, I send them home."
    "That's a punishment?" He paced beside her and held open the door.
    "To a six-year-old it's devastating." She entered the room and motioned Ricardo to follow, aware that his eyes had raked her from head to toe. Her voice broke. "They love school."
    Ricardo's cameraman had retreated to the teachers’ lounge for a break, for which Angela was thankful. She didn’t want Ken to pick up on Ricardo's prejudices, nor did she think his awareness of their dissension would help her cause. The respect and loyalty he felt towards Ricardo was obvious.
    "But how can you tell if they’re working or playing?" Ricardo asked before he hooked a leg over a nearby desk and sat down.
    The casual action distracted her for a second. How natural he looked, even among the miniature furnishings of the classroom! She could spend all day looking at him.
    "There's a distinct difference between the voice tone of children playing and children working. Their laughter is different, too, and so are their movements." She smiled as she settled on the top of a desk across from him. He was trying to understand her argument—it was all she could realistically expect of him at this point.
    "Experience with kids gives you an insight." She shrugged, trying not to notice how the muscles in his legs strained against the taut fabric of his slacks. She raised earnest eyes to his face. "Just as I imagine experience has taught you to tell when a person you're interviewing is hiding something or outright lying."
    "I see your point," he conceded after long moments of contemplation.
    Angela watched him, alert to every nuance of movement and tone.
    His brow furrowed and he rubbed his jaw. His mind must race like a computer—accepting and rejecting data. She held her breath, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers over those chiseled features.
    "Okay, assuming they're all working and not playing—” He looked at her, his ebony eyes filled with questions and some other, indefinable element. He hadn't accepted her premise yet, but the unusual component in his glance distracted her from the task of convincing him. She had to force herself to focus on his words. "How can they be learning when they work with each other instead of you ? It's like the blind leading the blind."
    Shifting her gaze from the intensity of his, she searched her mind for a reasonable answer. "Children learn from