David O’Neil sat at his desk at the front of classroom, pretending to read the book in his hand with one eye while keeping the other eye on his students as they finished the chapter he’d asked them to read. It was a few minutes until the lunch bell and he was thinking longingly about the turkey sandwich waiting for him in the teacher’s lounge fridge.

Voices murmured as some students finished the chapter and struck up conversations with their neighbours. He picked up bits and pieces - a homework assignment, a date, a new car, a house party. Then, amidst the din of typical teenage chatter, one conversation caught his attention. He didn’t look up. Didn’t move in any way to indicate that he’d heard. But his hearing reflexively honed in on the conversation, pinpointing the source and blocking out the other noise in the room. It was a skill he’d discovered was common in teachers, refined over generations of educators seeking out the troublemakers in their classrooms like a hawk identifying a mouse from the sky.

Two girls sitting by the windows leaned their heads together conspiratorially. David listened further - and didn’t like what he heard. He groaned internally. The conversation was dangerously close to something he’d have to address with the girls. He hated intervening. He cared for his students, but believed their private lives were their own and usually left it up to them to come to him with anything. This conversation though… It sounded like something that would involve the administration. And parents. He groaned again. He hated parents.

The bell indicating lunchtime rang. The clamour of thirty teenagers packing books into backpacks filled the room. He closed the book he was pretending to read and nodded his goodbyes to the students as they walked past his desk. The two girls walked past his desk with a smile and a nod, nothing to indicate they were worried he’d heard their conversation.

Sighing, he got up from his desk and followed the last students out the classroom door, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. His turkey sandwich called to him. What to do about the girls’ conversation? He’d make that decision on a full stomach.