There’s a sneeze guard that separates each tutor and student. It’s a piece of plastic with a slit on the bottom that allows only papers to be slipped through. These barriers protect us from each other and any virus that we carry. Right now, I lose sight of the student in front of me because the reflection of another dances ghostlike on the guard’s surface. It’s hard not to focus on what’s behind. But the job’s to take what’s before you, the pieces of another person’s work, and to somehow help them craft a better version, despite all the walls.
Frederick Charles Melancon lives in Mississippi with his wife and daughter. Find him on Twitter and Instagram @fcmwrite.