It was early when Paul arrived at Richie Middle School as a substitute teacher. He was stopped by the closed gate in the high chain-link fence that surrounded the 1905 four story red brick building. He continued to the back of the school where there was an array of portables. The school office and main door were marked by a sign reading Richie School Office.

“Paul Conner,” said the administrative assistant, a short trim brunette woman.

“Yes,” said Paul.

“The Assistant Principal wants to see you.”

Paul followed her across the narrow hall as a few students entered and looked at him with curiosity.

The tall red-haired man nodded toward the chair and Paul sat down.

“My name is Leo Thomas. I requested you as our supply teacher today,” he said.

Paul nodded his head.

“These are the last days for Richie School,” continued Leo. “I chose you because I was sure that you would fit in. Several items stand out on your record. First you were at Butterworth School during their incident, and you were the only one who was not flagged for further counselling.”

“I worked as a medical examiner assistant before I went into teaching,” said Paul.

“What did that job require?”

“The bodies required a lot of preparation so that examinations would go smoothly,” said Paul.

“Preparation?”

“All main arteries and veins have to be exposed as well as cuts to contusions, and the extraction of …”

“Yes, yes,” said Leo as deep furrows appeared on his forehead.

“At Butterworth, there wasn’t anything new,” said Paul. “Has there been a shooting here in the last few days?”

“No,” said Leo with a gasping urgency. “I just need someone who isn’t squeamish. You have worked in the most challenging environments in the school system.”

“Yes,” replied Paul.

“Well, I’ll show you to your room,” said Leo as he stood up. “You’re covering for Martha, and she is very conscientious. She has everything carefully laid out for the day. There are just a few weeks left before summer break and the end of operations at this school. She had her classes finishing their year’s work.”

“It’s that time of year,” said Paul as he accepted the file from Leo. “Was the school condemned?” asked Paul. He had been in several schools in the last month built during the same years and they were still functional.

“No,” said Leo with one eyebrow higher than the other. “No, it is more like a contamination situation.”

Paul nodded as they turned to the right and the door of the classroom was open on the left. They entered the room and there were five students waiting.

“Have a great day,” said Leo as he nodded at the few students and smiled. He turned and was gone.

“Good morning,” said Paul. “There must be more coming.”

“Maybe,” said Edna, a student sitting in the middle of her empty row. “A lot of the students left the school for others a long time ago.”

Paul logged into the attendance program on his computer. There were eight students.

“I guess that makes sense if the school has a severe contamination problem,” said Paul.

“Is that what they told you,” said Samie.

“Is the problem asbestos, formaldehyde, or mold?” asked Paul.

“It is definitely something else,” said Jacob.

“What is it?” asked Paul as he became aware of distant sounds, like voices.

The group stared without expression, they’re a little sad, thought Paul. He completed the attendance and looked at the day plans.

“The plan says everyone knows what they have to finish today,” said Paul to the small group in the class. “There is a detailed description for the assignments that you have to finish, so if you have any questions, you can come and look at what is written.”

The classroom was cracked by the sound of someone walking up the hallway bouncing a basketball. Paul dropped the plans on the desk and rushed to the classroom door and looked out in both directions and heard the sound just beyond the turn to the left and rushed to the corner. The sound stopped and the hall was empty.

Paul returned to the classroom and saw that all the students sat pressed back in their chairs and his eyebrow raised high.

“I’ll watch more closely and try to keep that from happening again,” said Paul.

“No, don’t worry about it,” said Wanda. “We are used to the sound.”

Paul nodded and walked to the windows at the side of the classroom that looked out towards the old red brick school and opened the window.

“We should make it as cool as we can during the morning, so it will better all day,” said Paul.

Paul could hear games and laughing children. The grounds of the old school were empty and high chain-link fencing surrounded it. The Danger signs were on all sides still, yet there were children playing just around the corner of the building he thought.

Paul turned around and looked at the class and small group were watching him with intensity.

“Do any of you have any questions about your assignments?”

They all shook their heads.

Paul returned to his desk and watched as the students worked. He heard the distant sound of laughter and balls bouncing and walked toward the classroom door. The sound increased in intensity until he was in the classroom doorway.

“I’m going to check this out,” he said to the small group.

“You really don’t have to,” said Wanda.

Paul nodded his head and turned to the left and waked up the corridor to the crash doors and realised that they had heavy chains on the opening levers, secured with padlocks. He looked through the windows and saw the classrooms across the dark hall and on the other side with their doors open and lights out. He looked to the left and saw the concrete steps of the old school in the connecting hall. The doors were covered with sheets of plywood and the same Danger sign was posted on them.

The sound of laughter and games came from the doorway and the corridor on the other side of the crash doors.

Paul returned to the classroom and noticed the students were working with their eyes focused on their books.

“The kids are having a really good time,” said Paul. “You are using the gym in the old school,” said Paul.

“No,” said Edna. “It’s locked up like everything over there.”

“Well, they are having a good time over there today,” said Paul. “It must be the warm spring day.”

“It’s not the warm sunny weather,” said Tony.

Wanda looked at Tony with deep furrows between her eyebrows.

“It’s sounds like this all the time,” said Samie. “Even on the coldest days in winter.”

“I like that sound,” said Paul. “It’s great to hear the children play.”

Paul noticed a large first aid kit at the door of the room, walked over and took it down. He opened it and surveyed the contents.

“This kit is up to date, and nothing needs to be added,” said Paul.

“It has never been used,” said Jacob.

“When there is so much activity, you often have injuries, so it is good to be ready,” said Paul.

Edna shook her head, “There are never any injuries.”

“What’s really interesting,” said Paul, “is that what I hear are elementary students playing, not middle school kids like you.”

“This used to be an elementary school,” said Samie.

Paul placed the first aid kit back where it belonged. He smiled and returned to his desk.

“I read that this is like an imprint of past happy times,” said Paul.

“We’ve heard that too,” said Jacob.

“It is supposed to happen in the places where good events happened,” said Paul. “I have been in old schools, like this one and I thought I could hear laughing and playing when I took my class to the gym.”

“Here, things have changed,” said Edna.

“How?” asked Paul.

“It’s like what happened this morning,” said Samie. “The sounds like the basketball bouncing have moved into the halls of the portables.”

“When that happened before Christmas, most of the students transferred out to other schools,” said Edna.

“What do you think it is?” asked Paul.

“It’s what you think it is,” said Jacob. “That is what we tell everyone now.”

“This is usually when our substitute runs out and leaves us alone,” said Samie.

“No,” said Paul. “I like the sound of children playing. It is the imprint of happiness.”

+++

Peter C. Conrad has been a teacher, editor, instructional designer, published articles, wrote lectures for multiple art history and design courses for the Art Institute Online, and published three Canadian histories. He was a finalist in the My Dream Writing Contest 2024, appeared in Wingless Dreamer Publisher’s 2024 anthology Summer Fireflies 2. His work appears in over forty literary journals worldwide. When Peter is not writing, he is painting and drawing. He now lives in Calgary.