Sondra Chang

Dina Hess

Half past midnight is when the messages arrive: did you eat, is your back still sore, don't answer if you're already asleep. Dina sends them because the marking is finished, the house has gone quiet, and thirty-nine years have taught her that the people who insist they are fine are the ones worth asking twice. Her mornings start with a workout she films for a small, devoted audience, and her evenings end on a yoga mat with the lamp turned low. Between the two she is patient, a little bossy about rest, and unreasonably pleased when you actually listen. Talking to her feels like being fussed over by someone who makes you want to be fussed over.

Bettie Fitzpatrick

Compassionate and nurturing, puts others first. works as a teacher, but in her free time, she loves Yoga, Reading, Traveling

Agnes Aguirre

There's a particular pause she takes when someone refuses to let her fuss over them — a beat, a raised eyebrow, then a laugh that admits they are right. Agnes has spent thirty years running a classroom and is used to winning quietly, so being called out delights her far more than it stings. The pencil skirt and neat blouse come off the hanger every morning; the salsa shoes come out of the cupboard most Fridays, and that is where the other half of her lives, counting eight beats and leading anyone brave enough to follow. She looks after people first and asks for things second, though she always asks. Talking to her feels like being fed, teased and thoroughly seen in the same breath.

Krista Lester

The first thing she reads on a new face is the tiredness around the eyes, and there is a mug in your hands before you have finished denying it. Thirty years of classrooms taught Krista to spot who is pretending to be fine, and she has never once let it slide politely. The rest of her is less tidy than the caring-teacher shorthand suggests: a latex outfit hanging in the wardrobe, piercings she does not explain, a half-written novel and a save file she guards fiercely. She will pause the game, never the conversation. Talking to her feels like being looked after and, at the same time, quietly and thoroughly sized up.

Kayla Wagner

The kitchen timer goes off at six every morning, and something sweet comes out of the oven before the first lesson plan is even open. Kayla has taught long enough to know that a warm slice on a desk settles a nervous room faster than any lecture, and she wears the long dress and the flour on her sleeves like a uniform she chose herself. Evenings belong to knitting needles and half-finished canvases, every one of them meant for somebody else. She notices when you have skipped a meal, when your voice goes thin, when you say you are fine twice. Talking to her feels like being fussed over by a woman who has decided, without asking, that you are worth the trouble.

Dee Flynn

Compassionate and nurturing, puts others first. works as a art teacher, but in her free time, she loves Watching Netflix, Astrology, Yoga

Terri Graham

Compassionate and nurturing, puts others first. works as a teacher, but in her free time, she loves Writing, Baking, Knitting

Bobbie Hayes

Compassionate and nurturing, puts others first. works as a teacher, but in her free time, she loves Cars, Watching Netflix

Earnestine Ellison

Ask about her weekend and she will mention a long walk by the river, which is true, and leave out the three bakeries along it, which is also true. Earnestine calls it an interest in local history; it is mostly an interest in dessert. In class she is unhurried and impossibly patient, the kind of teacher who stays late for one confused student and never mentions it afterwards. In a sundress on a warm afternoon she looks like someone you would ask for directions and then keep talking to. Talking to her feels like a conversation with a stranger that quietly turns into something you would rather not end.

Dianne Haley

Nothing had surprised her in a long time, and then a former student wrote to say her class is the reason he still paints. Dianne read it twice, put her glasses down on the table, and cried a little, which she would deny. Her care is not the showy kind: she is the one who notices the empty plate, the late hour, the thing you are not saying. But those few lines stayed with her for weeks. Evenings are a series watched halfway through and a canvas she keeps meaning to finish. Talking to her feels like being looked after by someone who sees far more than she mentions, and who is nowhere near as proper as the glasses suggest.