As the kids say, the tea has been spilled. Or something like that. You’d think I’d know, since I spend every day with 20 of them. But honestly, there’s a new catchphrase every week and no point in keeping up.

Unfortunately, the kids have been keeping up with me. And the new music teacher, Mr. Weston. A few too many longing glances in the hall I guess, but the game is up. And what a game it has been.

The thing is, we met over the summer. Before he was hired. Before it was a mistake to fall in love. To get engaged.

I know, teachers date other teachers all the time. I used to work in a school with a married couple, one in fifth and the other in first. It’s totally normal. Or at least, it used to be.

Education changed a year ago. Testing scores were plummeting, teachers were leaving left and right, and absences were at a high.

Naturally, the Department of Education reacted with tighter restrictions and more rigorous standards to teach. We wouldn’t want to foster positive learning environments that help students feel confident and prepared to succeed in the modern world. But that’s a topic for a different story.

With the new regulations came unexpected rules for those of us who remained. Teaching is my calling, so I knew I couldn’t leave the kids. Especially now.

Uniforms for teachers as well as students and strict socialization guidelines were in the first wave of “improvements”. Any teacher conversations should be about improving student performance or the school as a whole, and all conversations and lessons were subject to recording and review. All relationships were to remain of the highest professional quality.

That last bit has been a problem for me since the day it went into action. I love nothing more than unwinding in another teacher’s classroom after a long day - it’s a great breath of fresh adult air to get you ready to prep for the next day or head to a meeting (or 2). This year, I’ve wished daily to rush into Weston’s room for a comforting hug after pick-up.

Of course, I can’t do any of that. Which is fine, I guess, because I am an adult with self control. But the thing about kids is that they see through you when they’re around you long enough. And my class has some keen eyes this year.

If administration finds out, we both lose our teaching licenses. The repercussions that came along with the new regulations were equally fierce, and they’ve made sure we are all highly aware of it with weekly emails re-iterating rules and shaming teachers who slipped up.

Today during recess I overheard some of my gigglers saying my name and Mr. Weston’s, which means the mics heard too. I’d warn him, but phones are not allowed on campus anymore. The only thing I can do at this point is check my emails.

None from the district high-ups, but I do have one from my principal, Mrs. Harley. The subject is “Dinner” with a calendar request for tonight. The message has some details about the 4th grade team and our progress reports. Nothing about Weston and I. I accept and start getting my room prepared for tomorrow. Guess I don’t have to worry about cooking tonight.

As I walk into Tiny’s, I see Mrs. Harley at a table with a man in glasses I don’t know. She waves me over with urgency.

“Hi, did —” I start as I sit.

“No no, your team will be here soon, but this is Daniel Minefeld. He’s principal over at Hollytrail in FRISD. Daniel, Tracey Lundrep.” Mrs. Harley says with no signs of stopping. “He needs a music teacher, and our TA Ms. Finsler has passed her teaching exams a month ago. So we are sending Mr. Weston over. Yes, we know about the two of you. This is the best I can do in the time we have.”

“He’s already packing his things. We had to move quickly, so he only got an official email. You’ll have to fill him in, which is why I called you here early. Now, your team is here and the district will be happy that we are spending even more of our personal time on work. Of course, I do expect an invitation.” With that, I was shaking Mr. Minefeld’s hand and greeting my team.

Invitation? Oh my god. I can get married.