Now is the Time

Kyara glanced up at the clock, the fourth time in probably as many seconds, looking at the second hand sludge towards its next mission.

In just under twenty-eight minutes, Kyara would end her very last class, in the very last year of her high school career. There wasn’t anything that could stop her now, according to Mr. Gonzalez, the counselor.

“You’ll want to look at a couple of different opportunities,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

The advice wasn’t lost on Kyara, not at all. Her mother had said the same saying to her throughout the years, be it with friends she’d made and lost, sports teams she yearned to play for and didn’t, or homework assignments that seemed to get longer each time she finished a problem.

“You’ll get it, Ky, don’t you give up now. Just focus, and don’t put all your bumbles in a frenzy!” Kyara was able to translate the saying - but what was important, of course, was the message: Kyara's schooling never came easy, so stressing about everything just led to more trouble for her.

The bell rang, and Kyara took one of the deepest, most refreshing breaths of her life. She did it - wow, she did it! The grade reports that looked like peaks and valleys, the drama that would’ve rivaled reality TV in ratings (if anyone else cared, of course), the cafeteria food that made her question her sanity. And the friends, whew, all the friends. The ones from Kinder, those that went separate ways in 5th grade (she didn't keep in contact with any of them, but still had yearbooks with their silly sayings); the deeper friends that huddled together in middle school (how else were you to survive?); and the very close knit, the Pack, that was formed in fourth grade and remained throughout highschool - the Lifers: Malachi and Macey.

Walking out of class, she thanked her teacher, Mrs. Harper, and greeted her BFFs.

“Yo, can you believe this?” Malachi spoke first, breaking the anticipation when the three of them met in the hallway. “Who knew, right? From freshman orientation - I didn’t even have my lock combination down, that was a trip! And now this, graduation?!”

“Yeah, I mean, all this - all this, it’s over?” Macey said next. “I mean, listen, I can’t even believe it - I just, you guys, listen, how amazing were these years?”

“Difficult, yeah, but amazing,” Kyara said. Malachi, Macey, and Kyara were both in SPED (special education) classes, and they formed a close bond after the third year they all wound up in the same reading foundations group.

Kyara put her hand in first, followed by Malachi, and Macey joined with hers on the top.

“Pack on three,” Malachi whispered. Their thing. At the end of each year, since the fourth grade, they did this little cheer. Kyara was thankful for this because it was something to look forward to before each summer started and she wasn’t around them as often. Home life wasn’t too amazing for Kyara, so having these two to remember always brought her immense joy.

“This time, though, we are breaking for whatever comes next!” Macey said. “Where are y’all headed? Any update on apps?”

Malachi took a step back, and looked at the floor. “I’m not too sure, haven’t heard, didn’t apply to a whole lot, and Mom’s not really feelin’ me leaving.”

“I hear that, my folks are the same way,” Macey said, then looked at Malachi and steered the conversation to Kyara. “I hear announcements will come the week after graduation. What you got lined up, Ky?"

Kyara could do nothing but smile. She couldn't think much past graduation day. “Yeah, I mean, whatever happens. I applied at a couple of places, and have jobs lined up for the summer, I think. Let’s just take it one day at a time, right?”

“One day at a time” was a motto they shared to get through their reading groups. Macey was the quickest to pick up the skill, with Malachi and his competitive spirit not letting her get the limelight too long. Kyara was the slowest, and if not for some divine intervention in the form of Mr. Farley, it’s possible she would’ve been the only member of the Pack still in Morning Read past the fourth grade.

As the Pack went their separate ways (Malachi took the bus, and Macey had the longest walk home), Kyara started her journey home the same she had most afternoons as Senior year was coming to a close - she reflected.

On this particular walk, she remembered the lot of teachers she went through, most of them struggling just to keep her on task. First grade was a wash - she couldn’t sit still, let alone pick up a pencil. Second and third grades were better. Kyara sat at least, and her teachers made sure to keep her after school, each of those years, to work with her on sounds (scratching sand, white board games, anything that would hold her attention). Fourth grade was when she turned a corner - Mr. Farley looked at her on that first day and said five words that would change Kyara’s life: “Kyara, now is the time.”

As Kyara passed the bus stop, waved to Malachi, and crossed the street towards her house, she thought about that phrase. At the time, she rolled her eyes, refused to shake his hand, and walked into class. She was exhausted of effort. FOUR YEARS - the beginning years, the school-is-fun-and-watch-us-paint-and-draw-and-start-to-read years. And she’d missed them, struggling just to make D’s instead of B’s in her journal.

She watched Malachi’s bus leave, and her mind wandered to that year - fourth grade, further down the year, towards maybe December.

“Okay, Kyara, I see you’re a bit upset today. Remember, now is the time. Book out. Let’s get to work,” Mr. Farley would say. Or something like it, surely. And Kyara would, by this point (December was a bleak time of year, where you either started warming up to your teachers or wished them out of existence with every fiber of your being), tolerate Mr. Farley’s suggestions. She would follow them rarely, of course, but at least she listened. On this day, she recalls, she raises her hand to read.

“Popcorn read to -” Mr. Farley, stunned at the hand, stops and redirects his attention. “Okay, great, go ahead, Kyara.”

And read she did. She stumbled at first - forgot the heading, got corrected by a couple of well-meaning classmates, and said “through” instead of “though”. But read, she did. And from that day, after she stumbled, but got up, and saw Mr. Farley grinning and nodding silent encouragement, she kept raising her hand.

Kyara was approaching her front door when the last memory of that year swelled in her mind. It was towards the end of the year, April maybe. Mr. Farley was preparing the class for the end of the year tests.

“Kyara, take computer one,” Mr. Farley said.

“But I don’t take the tests,” Kyara said.

She'd never taken them, not before, due to her SPED labeling and reading difficulties. The Pack would head to a different room during that week, and while Malachi and Macey eventually took StateEd, Ky had never been exposed to it.

“Now is the time! You’re ready. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve shown you’re able to now.” Mr. Farley responded, sounding excited and hopeful.

Kyara remembers responding hastily, and not kindly. “This is stupid! Are you serious? I have barely got any of this crap! You’re doing this to me this year?” Then, she fled the room.

Kyara’s memory stops there, or maybe is interrupted, she’s not sure. As she walks into the house, her mother is sitting at the kitchen table with an envelope in her hand.

“Kyara, baby,” Kyara’s mother started, holding out the envelope. “There’s something you need to read.”

Kyara took the envelope, and looked at the writing on the front:

For Kyara to Open in 2020

Confused, Kyara looked at her mother, saw her mother smile, and joined her mother at the table. She opened the envelope, and took out a lined sheet of paper, folded in thirds. Opening the paper, Kyara started to read:

April 6, 2013

Dear Kyara:

Well, to put it lightly, you were not too happy with me today. This happened, sometimes, like when I wouldn’t let you stay outside for extra recess with the third graders, or stopped you from going to the other classroom’s line when the recess bell rang. You always had a keen ability to socialize your way into many situations - a trait that, I’m sure, has served you well throughout these years but, frankly, frustrated me quite a bit.

I’m sure you don’t remember the particular day I’m writing to you about in this letter, so let me give you a little reminder: You were just given the go ahead to participate in state testing, and you were furious because you didn’t feel prepared. You lashed at me, actually, calling the situation “stupid”, and ran out of the classroom. Caused quite a stir in Room 15, actually! (You did that a lot this year, which you may not remember, either: learning to read in fourth grade and showcasing it every chance you get causes a scene!)

That’s what I hope you remember about this moment, Kyara. That before this year, you struggled just to make it to the bell. And that frustration bubbled up today - you let your past get to you, and change how you feel about yourself, your abilities. Hands down, Kyara, you are one of the most determined, skilled, and passionate learners I’ve yet had the chance to teach. Now, seven years later and set to graduate, I hope you’ve taken the lesson that I tried teaching you throughout this year: now is the time.

Your teachers no doubt have been pleased, and they are lucky to have seen you grow. I’m certain they saw you tackle tough topics and challenges head on - I definitely saw that during your year with me, and I’m so grateful to have been a small part of your journey. You chose to make this year your time. Your time to own it. And now, Kyara, you are approaching the grand stage, the time when you have another, critical choice. Will you fall back, using your old excuses? Or reach forward, upward, like you did last week when you read out loud for the first time ever!

I’m excited for you, and cannot wait to see where you go. Just remember, kiddo, that now is the time. So go out there, and make the most of it! The world needs you, Kyara, more than ever.

Peace,

Mr. Farley

Barryman Elem, 4th Grade, 2013

Kyara dropped her head, held the letter close to her chest, and started to cry. He wrote this? He - after all I did to him? Then, she looked up at her mother, and smiled one of those messy smiles after a moment like this. Her mind rushed through the memories, quicker now: by the second week, she shook Mr. Farley’s hand but didn’t look at him; after the third month, she greeted him before he could greet her (most days - other times, she stormed inside without even a glance in his direction); by March, she had a week of good behavior and two weeks of crabby behavior, but only towards Mr. Farley (her mother tried to assure Mr. Farley that she treated him that way because she respected him more than other teachers); and by June, she didn’t know what she’d do without Mr. Farley.

"Mom, I have a question," Kyara said.

“Go ahead, baby,” Her mother responded.

“How long have you had this letter?” Kyara wondered.

“Mr. Farley gave it to me the day after your, um, testing issue day. And you know what else, what’s crazy?”

Kyara answered, but with her eyes, cuing her mother to continue.

“You earned 'proficient' that year, and ever year since! Do you remember?”

“I don’t even think I looked at the score, I was so ashamed and upset.” Kyara admitted.

“You didn’t give yourself a chance, baby. In your mind, seems you were given up.” Her mother said.

Mr. Farley believed it was my time. Believed in me. I had it all along, and I kept it up, kept it going! And now I'm graduating!

Kyara gripped her mother’s hands, went up to her room, took out her phone, and opened a group chat titled: Pack.

“Now is our time, Pack,” she typed, with the same teary smile face she had just moments before. Then, she put the letter in her desk drawer and took a deep, refreshing breath.

Thank you, Mr. Farley, Kyara thought. Thank you for your time, and I can't wait to show you what I choose to do with mine.

A week later, Kyara walked across the graduation stage with Malachi and Macey and thought about what Mr. Farley wrote in the letter. About her determination, her skills, her passion. Kyara was hopeful that her next chapter needed those qualities, and she'd be ready. Ready to raise her hand.