The following morning dawned crisp and clear, offering no weather excuse for James to cancel his commitment. He faced the mirror in Evan's apartment bathroom, adjusting the unfamiliar outfit his brother had laid out—casual slacks, a button-up shirt, and a cardigan that felt like a costume from someone else's life.
"You look exactly like me, but completely wrong," Evan observed from the doorway, still in his pajamas and looking much worse than he did the day before.
"That is confusing and unhelpful," James replied, fidgeting with the unfamiliar clothes. "What specifically is wrong?"
"Your posture," Evan demonstrated, relaxing his shoulders and softening his stance. "You are standing like you are about to begin a concert. I stand like someone who isn't constantly aware of being filmed."
James attempted to mimic his brother's casual posture, feeling oddly vulnerable without his stance.
"Better," Evan approved. "Now, your expressions. You have this... intensity when you focus. I am more... approachable."
"So, I should look less competent?" James clarified dryly.
"You should look less like you are about to critique someone's dance technique and more like you're about to read 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' for the thousandth time and still find it delightful," Evan corrected.
James practiced a milder expression in the mirror, finding it strange how different his face could appear with subtle changes.
"The children will probably notice something is different," Evan warned, "but they are surprisingly adaptable. If they ask, say you are trying a new teacher style today."
"And the parents?" James asked nervously.
"Most won't know me well enough to notice small differences. The principal might, but she will be busy observing multiple classrooms. Just follow the lesson plans exactly, and you will be fine."
James was not convinced he would be "fine," but he was committed now. He carefully placed Evan's wire-rimmed glasses on his face, glasses his brother didn't need but wore to complete his scholarly image.
"Remember, absolutely no dancing," Evan reminded him sternly.
"Kindergarten activity breaks are simple moves, not idols' synchronized dances."
"Got it. Nobody rolls during the Hello Song," James promised.
"And Muse will be there," Evan added casually, as if this were an afterthought rather than critical information.
James whirled to face his brother. "What? You didn't mention that yesterday!"
"Didn't I?" Evan feigned innocence despite his congested state. "She is doing a special presentation on physical movement for early childhood development. It is on the schedule."
"Are you kidding me?" James's panic returned full force. "She will know I am not you!"
"Probably," Evan agreed calmly. "She is perceptive. But she is also kind and understanding. Just be honest with her if she figures it out."
"Be honest about deceiving an entire classroom of children and their parents?" James clarified incredulously.
"When you put it that way, it does sound ethically questionable," Evan admitted.
"But it is too late to back out now. The substitute teacher list is already exhausted, so I am asking you."
James checked his watch - Evan's analog watch, which felt strange on his wrist. "I should go. The lesson plan says to arrive forty-five minutes before the children."
"One last thing," Evan called as James gathered the blue folder and his brother's messenger bag. "The most important rule of teaching young children."
"What is that?" James asked, bracing for crucial wisdom.
"Never let them see fear," Evan said solemnly. "Like velociraptors, they can sense weakness."
"Very funny," James muttered, though the joke did little to calm his nerves.
"I am only half joking," Evan called after him. "Good luck, brother. Try not to traumatize my students!"
* * *
Sunshine Kindergarten lived up to its name, with bright yellow walls and a rainbow-painted entrance that immediately made James feel out of place. He followed Evan's instructions, signing in at the main office where a harried secretary barely glanced at him before handing over a classroom key.
"Several parents are already waiting in the observation area, Teacher Evan," she informed him. "Principal Kim will be by during the morning circle."
James nodded, not trusting himself to speak more than necessary. He went through colorful hallways decorated with children's artwork until he reached Evan's classroom, Room 7, appropriately enough. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and entered what felt like an alien world. The classroom was scrupulously organized into learning centers, with tiny chairs and tables arranged in groups. Alphabet charts, number lines, and student artwork covered the walls. A reading corner featured a small carpet and bookshelves, while a play area contained child-sized furniture and costumes.
Following Evan's notes, James began preparing for the day, writing the date on the board, setting out name tags at each place, and arranging materials for the morning activities. He checked on Mr. Bubbles (thankfully, swimming upright) and reviewed the lesson plan one final time. The classroom door opened, nearly causing James to jump out of his skin. Still, only the teaching assistant, a university student named Hope (not to be confused with Julian's Hope), would help manage the classroom.
"Good morning, Teacher Evan," she greeted cheerfully. "Ready for observation day?"
"As ready as possible," James replied, trying to match Evan's more formal speech pattern.
"You sound hoarse," Hope noted with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Just a slight cold," James explained, making a mental note to blame any strange behavior on illness.
Hope nodded sympathetically and began helping with preparations. As they worked, she chatted about the students, providing James with valuable context that Evan hadn't had time to share.
"Muse called," Hope mentioned casually. "She is running a few minutes late but will be here before the movement activity. She asked if you needed any special equipment set up."
"Whatever she usually uses is fine," James replied vaguely, having no idea what a physical development movement might entail.
The classroom began to fill with children, each greeted at the door by Hope while James maintained a slightly panicked smile that he hoped would appear teacher-like. Parents escorted their children, some lingering to chat briefly before moving to the observation area, a sectioned-off part of the room with adult-sized chairs.
"Good morning, Teacher Evan!" the children chorused as they found their seats, seemingly unconcerned by James's slightly different appearance.
"Good morning, everyone," James replied, attempting to channel his brother's calm authority. "We have a special day planned."
The morning circle proceeded surprisingly smoothly. James followed Evan's detailed notes while Hope quietly assisted. The children shared their weekend stories, sang the "Hello Song" (which James quickly picked up), and reviewed the day's schedule.