<Chapter 6>

“I stored it in my ‘space.'”

“Wow, that’s amazing! Is it magic? It is, right?”

“Y-yes. But it’s just basic magic. Anyone can do it…”

“Well… not me.”

“Because teacher is… human.”

Ardishu mumbled as if the word ‘human’ were something bad.

“What can humans do?”

“That’s different for each person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. For example, I can sculpt with sand really well, but I can’t cook. The sandwich you liked so much was made by another human. Chef Jiho. He’s great at cooking. But he probably can’t sculpt sand like I can.”

Ardishu murmured as if trying to process it.

“But it’s not just humans. It’s the same for elves too. There are things you’re good at that others aren’t, and things others can do well that you can’t.”

“Right. I’m… an elf, but I can’t shoot a bow properly. My magic’s clumsy too…”

“You’re still young.”

I said it clearly. Ardishu, who’d been staring at the ground, looked up a little.

“You’ll find what you’re good at eventually. Some people find it quickly, others take longer. But that doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

“……”

“I’ll help you. So you can find what you’re good at. And I want to help you find what you like too.”

“Just finding what I’m good at is enough.”

There was a surprising firmness in Ardishu’s voice as she said that.

“No, that’s not enough. The more things you like, the more fun life gets.”

Ardishu didn’t respond right away. A complicated expression flickered in her lemon-colored eyes.

‘She’s thinking. She’s a careful kid.’

If I pushed too hard from the start, it might backfire.

As I pondered for a moment, a good idea popped into my head.

“How about we play a game?”

“A game?”

Ardishu looked curious.

“We pile up some sand, stick a twig in the middle, and then take turns removing the sand. Whoever knocks the twig over loses.”

“Then I should just take very little sand at a time.”

“Sure, but as the sand gets taken away, the twig will become unstable eventually.”

We continued the game with growing excitement. Naturally, I won the first round.

Ardishu clenched her little fists. It looked like the spark of competitiveness had just awakened in her.

“T-this time…”

Determined not to lose, Ardishu scooped out a huge chunk of sand right from the start. The twig immediately toppled.

“Ah!”

“Greed never pays.”

Tears welled up in the corners of Ardishu’s eyes.

But I was thrilled to see her getting competitive. That was a very good sign.

I carefully adjusted the game’s difficulty so Ardishu could keep up without getting frustrated.

“I-I’m sure it’s going to fall! Definitely!”

“Hmm. Nope. Looks perfectly stable to me.”

“O-one more round!”

Her droopy brows, usually hidden beneath her bangs, perked up with determination.

I only meant for us to play a round or two, but before I knew it, we’d hit the double digits.

“I won!”

Ardishu jumped up, bouncing in place. The sweat on her forehead and the excitement in her voice showed just how happy she was.

“That’s amazing. You beat me.”

“Let’s do more!”

Her confidence was building. I subtly let her win here and there to keep the balance.

“S-sorry I keep winning…”

“Hey, don’t be. It’s a game. The better player should win.”

But just as she was doing well, the pressure to be a ‘good kid’ started to hold her back again.

“A winner deserves to enjoy their victory.”

“But… losing feels bad.”

“If you count the rounds, I’ve won more than you. Did you feel bad every time I won?”

“A little.”

Ardishu answered honestly.

“But… I also thought I could win the next round.”

“Exactly. I felt the same way. And one more thing.”

I gently raised my hand and patted Ardishu’s head. Her silvery hair was soft and silky.

“I was happy because I could see how fast you were learning and improving.”

“This… counts as learning?”

“Yup. Today’s lesson was playing with sand.”

“But we were just playing. We didn’t learn anything. That’s not studying.”

The way Ardishu looked at me reminded me of Eldic, who insisted breaks were a waste of time.

Maybe that’s just how elves are.

“Sand play helps with emotional stability. It’s even used in therapy. And because you’re free to create any shape, it boosts creativity and teaches different forms of expression.”

I explained gently.

“When you sprinkle, grab, scratch, tap, and pack the sand, it develops your fine motor skills. It’s actually a great lesson.”

In fact, ‘sand play’ was quite an effective educational tool.

That’s how kindergarten classes work. They hide the learning objectives within fun activities.

The classroom isn’t the only thing that needs to be kid-friendly.

‘It’s the same with this. Just saying it’s okay not to be a “good kid” won’t get through to her. I have to teach it through a lesson.’

Lessons are a teacher’s weapon, a way of reaching them.

* * *

In the afternoon, I had something a bit more unconventional planned.

‘I stayed up all night coming up with this.’

To draw Ardishu out even more after our gentle start with sand play.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to paint a mural.”

Though puzzled, Ardishu followed obediently.

“This is…”

When we arrived at a pure white wall behind the kindergarten, Ardishu muttered quietly. I had already spread out plastic sheets and squeezed out heaps of paint.

“There’s paint, but no tools.”

She glanced around.

“What do you mean? The tools are right here.”

I kicked off my shoes and socks and stepped into the paint.

“T-teacher?”

I walked straight up and stamped my foot on the wall. A footprint appeared on the blank canvas.

“Today’s painting tool is our body.”

I balled my fist and pressed it against the wall to make a flower shape.

“H-how are we supposed to draw?”

“There’s no sample to follow. You don’t have to think too much. Just go with whatever your heart wants.”

And I did just that, dragging a paint-covered hand along the wall in a streak and throwing a handful of paint for dramatic effect.

“My brother’s going to scold me if my clothes get dirty…”

“Then let’s make this our secret. Just between you and me.”

“O-oh…”

“It’s okay. I’ll clean you up before you go home. No one will ever know. It’ll be our little secret.”

Something about what I said lit a spark in her eyes.

Honestly, who wouldn’t want to make a mess like this at least once?

Ardishu dipped her fingertip into the paint and dotted it on the wall.

Then she placed her whole handprint on it.

And then—

Splat!

She dove into the plastic sheet. Red, yellow, green, purple… all the colors blended into a muddy mess as she charged at the wall.

“T-teacher! I left a me-shaped print on the wall!”

“Great idea. I’m doing that too!”

“You’re like a little kid, teacher.”

“That’s what teachers are. Maybe that’s why we become teachers.”

People throw around the phrase ‘such a good kid’ way too easily.

But what is a good kid?

One who doesn’t fight, doesn’t cause trouble, eats well, and plays quietly?

That’s what adults praise.

But is that really goodness? Is that really right?

Kids fight, argue, get in trouble, make mistakes. That’s how they grow.

I thought back to my first day of training.

The overwhelming flood of noise was still fresh in my mind.

One blink, and someone got hurt.

Back then, it felt hopeless.

When I broke down crying after a rough first day, my mentor told me, “That happens to everyone at first.”

I took it to mean that of course it’s hard at first because I wasn’t used to the role of a teacher.

But that wasn’t it.

What she meant was that I wasn’t used to the energy of children. Their wildness, their chaos.

It’s that wildness that makes them truly children.

If they’re trained to only be ‘good,’ they lose the ability to express what they want or how they feel.

‘Not on my watch. Never.’

The wall was now covered in abstract shapes we couldn’t name.

“Out of all your art, I think this mural is my favorite. I really love it.”

“I-I don’t really know…”

Panting from all the running and jumping, Ardishu suddenly looked down. After a brief pause, she spoke again.

“Next time…”

“Next?”

“I won’t mix the colors. I think it’ll look prettier that way.”

“Let’s do that! I can’t wait to see your next piece.”

Covered in paint from head to toe, we cleaned up and changed into spare clothes.

I tied Ardishu’s hair into two cute braids.

No one would ever guess we’d just been a pair of paint monsters.

“Goodbye, teacher.”

“Take care. See you tomorrow.”

Clean and tidy again, Ardishu boarded the bus.

‘I feel like Ardishu’s world just got a little bigger.’

Waving happily, I watched her leave, but then she suddenly ran back down from the front of the bus.

“Ardishu?”

“Teacher. I still want to be a good kid. I like being good.”

The wind blew, making her silver hair dance wildly.

“B-but… I don’t want to be only good.”

She looked me straight in the eye as she continued.

“I hate carrots, I think cleaning is such a pain, and honestly… I love sleeping in!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her clenching her tiny fists and shouting so earnestly.

For the first time, I felt like I’d gotten a glimpse of the pure, unfiltered Ardishu.

“This is a secret, okay?”

I leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I really love sleeping in too.”

“Really?”

“Yup. So as a fellow late-sleeping comrade, I’ll be cheering you on.”

I straightened up slightly and smiled.

“Will you cheer for me too? I’m just a beginner teacher, after all.”

“Okay!”

“Then let’s take care of each other from now on, Ardishu.”

“Yes, Teacher Sora.”

When I opened my arms, Ardishu blushed and hugged me. I lifted her high into the air.

“Kyaaah!”

Lesson objective: complete!

And now, my new goal: boost Ardishu’s self-esteem and help her build relationships with her friends!

* * *

Life really is full of surprises.

After the calm Ardishu, a total maniac stormed in.

“How dare a lowly human!”

I figured I’d get disrespected eventually.

But I thought it’d be from a kid of a race that didn’t like humans… not…

“If I attack you now, not even the Dragon Lord could save you.”

S-someone help! Teacher’s under attack!
 

<To be continued>

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