Page 9 of Breaking the Ice

“No, it’s great.” I cut off the flow of words that might never stop. “I like Pepsi. And peanuts are fine. That was really thoughtful of you.”

I crack open my drink, take a swig, the fizzy sweetness hitting my tongue. Pepsi really is the superior soda, but no one gets it. Then I tap the page in my textbook.

“Okay. Fraction time.”

But as I explain things, Evan’s posture changes. He goes from leaning close to the book to putting space between himself and the text. He slouches away, looking dejected, then runs a hand through his disheveled hair and pulls on it.

“Hey.” I interrupt my lesson to put a hand on his arm, then snatch my fingers back at the jolt of electricity that races down my spine. I clear my throat. “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

He shakes his head. “I’m just dumb. This doesn’t make sense to me.”

He sounds so forlorn, my heart breaks a little. “You’re not dumb. I think you probably just learn things differently.”

“Yeah, the dumb way,” he mutters. “But why do I need to know math as a gym teacher?”

I sigh. “Aside from logic and problem-solving, it’s a useful skill. And what if you can’t find a job as a phys ed teacher and you end up in a grade-level class?”

He pales, and I continue. “You need a well-rounded base of knowledge. Besides, I have an idea.”

Evan blinks, perking up a little. “What’s your idea?”

I twist my fingers together on the wooden table. “Do you remember studying learning styles in an Intro to Education class?”

“Uh…” His gaze darts from side to side, guilt written on his face.

I tsk, pinning him in my stare. “You need to know this stuff. Honestly, do you want to be a gym teacher?”

“Yeah, I do.” He sits up straighter.

“Why?”

He clears his throat. “Well, there’s a part of it that sounded like fun at first. You know, dodge ball and games all day. But as I got to thinking about it—school was hard for a kid like me.”

“What were you like?”

He laughs. “Class clown, and a little ADHD. But gym class was the best. I wasn’t good at math—” he gestures towards the book, “or writing, but I could get As in gym. And as I’ve done practicums and stuff, it’s been amazing.”

“Yeah?” I ask, taking a bite of a peanut butter cracker and then immediately brushing the crumbs off my Harrison sweatshirt. “How so?”

“Kids are great. Hilarious and wild, and it’s all just about listening to them and figuring out what they need to be successful.”

“Yes!” He blinks at my enthusiasm. “That’s exactly what using different learning styles is about. Figuring out how they learn so you can teach things in a way that resonates.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, face blank, and I’m not sure he’s getting it.

“So, like, for me. If something is put to a song, I can remember it forever. Lyrics just get stuck in my brain.” Evan nods, blue eyes glued to mine, and I continue. “Are you a good skater?”

He scoffs. “I’m amazing. Best on the team.”

“And humble, too.” I roll my eyes. Why are hockey players the worst? “How old were you when you learned? How long did it take you?”

“I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t know. I think I was four or five?”

“I bet you’re a kinesthetic learner. A lot of athletes are. Physical things come naturally to you—and if we incorporate motions, it will stick in your brain better.”

Evan raises his brows. “Motions?”

“Yeah. Almost like if we add sign language, it will help.”