The class had run out of adult chairs. They had relegated Gaara to a metal kiddie stool instead, and this was where he perched, awkwardly, his legs crossed to avoid tripping any of the dozen children swarming the classroom in free-play frenzy. He was one of few young men in the room, the others scattered about as uncomfortably as he; most of the women had gathered in a corner, chatting in the friendly but guarded way prospective mom-friends do when the only trait they shared was an interest in the city’s pre-K program known for sitting smack in the middle of prestigious and affordable.
He looked about the room. He felt he should be taking notes, or maybe pictures, or even introducing himself to one of the teachers organizing name tags on the snack tables. The last time he had set foot in any scholastic setting was his high school graduation nearly a decade before, and he had been one suspension short of missing that altogether. The last time he had interacted with a child was a vague question mark of summer camp memories and nosy next-door neighbors.
Speaking of children - Gaara whipped his head up - where had Taro gone? He had been bossing around some kids at the play kitchen a minute ago. He had only looked away for a second, so where - ? Oh, there he was, marching over to the Legos, leaving a trail of abandoned toys in his wake. Another boy had built a tower as tall as he, which wasn’t saying much, as the average preschooler barely reached Gaara’s thigh. Gaara prayed to the gods of toddlerhood; their previous forays into the local playground had often left Taro alone in mud and tears. What had the evaluator called it? Lack of bodily awareness...Perceived as aggression...
A whap, and a cry. The tower lay ruined in pieces on the floor. Rushed, babbled apologies spilled out in Taro’s overloud voice, but it was no use; the other boy burst into tears.
“Taro - “ Gaara darted forward, then realized his knowledge of toddler disputes ended there. “Taro, did you do that on purpose?”
