#also sorry ive never written javey before so dont be mean pls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blurglesmurfklaine · 1 year

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omg I need to hear your thoughts on teachers!Javey because that makes my brain go BRRRRRRR

OKAY OKAY OKAY SO. I can already tell this is going to be long winded so. apologies.

To understand why Teachers!Javey has a grip on my two brain cells like a dog has on his chew toy, we must first understand the types of students they are.

---

Jack Kelly is never really the stereotypical "good" student. He's a ward of the state, probably has some sort of undiagnosed learning disability that all his teachers attributed to him being a poor student with lousy attendance. Reading and writing is difficult for him from an early age, and he's okay with math until they introduce fucking word problems--what is that about? Why are they putting reading in math?

Every teacher from first to fifth grade he has can see that when Jack speaks to his peers, he's intelligent. He's a natural born leader and trend setter amongst the students. It's such a shame he's wasting his potential. It's such a shame that he never finishes his exams on time, and chooses to waste time doodling in the margins instead. It's such a shame he's only ever at school half the time, the other half out and about doing God knows what.

It's such a shame that every single teacher he had for the first eleven years of his life just assumed his failure was a deliberate choice.

But he finds solace in arts and craft time in elementary, and then is delighted to find out he can have art class every single day, for an entire period in middle school.

Teachers get meaner in middle school. Jack's smart mouth gets smarter--or dumber, according to his seventh grade History teacher, who loudly announces that Jack has the lowest grade out of everyone in his class. Jack stops showing up to History after that, but manages to scrape by with a C by convincing this girl, Katherine, to do his work for him, and he'll finish her art project she needs to get her Fine Arts credit.

(They date for a while and ofc decide they're better off as friends)

He meets Miss Medda his freshman year of high school, because the counselors screwed up his schedule and put him in Theatre instead of Art for his elective class. He needs remedial English Language Arts and Reading classes, both of which are during the only Art classes his stupid school offers. But Miss Medda is kind, treats him with respect, and after Jack accidentally leaves his sketchbook behind, offers to let him do backdrops for her plays instead of having to act in them.

Jack really can't afford to make time for this kind of long-term project--he's got to walk his little brothers (who aren't... legally his brothers, but... it's easier to just call them his brothers) home from their school, and then helps them with their homework best he can because he's not going to let them struggle the way he does and Tony is starting to get in fights, which is really, really stressing Charlie out and--

Miss Medda offers to let them stay in the theatre while the younger kids work on their schoolwork and Jack on his paintings.

It's an excuse to stay away from the Refuge an hour longer. It's an offer Jack can't refuse.

It's Miss Medda who first suggests to Jack he might be dyslexic. Jack's never even heard that word before, but it sparks a light of hope in him. He's not stupid. He's just--wired differently.

A diagnosis is not easy to come by. Jack has no legal guardians who can request testing from the school on his behalf, and Mr. Snyder sure as hell isn't going to shell out the money to do it third party. Miss Medda says she's doing it to streamline the testing, but when Snyder calls him in to say she's requested to foster him, Race, and Charlie, it takes every ounce of Jack's willpower not to cry right then and there.

School was never easy for Jack, and it still isn't, but it's amazing how much easier it becomes when he's got something that resembles a home. A soft bed, with clean sheets. A diagnosis. A family.

College is a possibility. It becomes a reality when Medda helps him submit his application to NYU.

Even though he's an art major, he's got to take basics. A computer that can read his assignments to him helps get him through with flying colors.

Medda assures him he doesn't have to do this for her. He's not. He's doing it for the fourteen year old Jack who needed a teacher like Miss Medda--and now, one like him.

---

David Jacobs is the stereotypical "good" student. Math, Science, History--it all comes incredibly easy to him from a young age. But especially Reading and Writing.

He finishes assignments early for the sole purpose of having more free time in class that he uses to read. Six years in a row, he's the top reader in his entire district, even beating out kids in high school starting from the seventh grade.

Students adore him, teachers love him, and his parents are proud as they could be.

Most kids are impressed. Some think he's doing it to show off, but he does it because there's nothing else he'd rather be doing. No amount of parties or dances can measure up to the way the ending to Of Mice and Men broke his heart, or the way Jodi Picoult's Leaving Time put it back together.

He loves analyzing the worlds he's being sucked into, highlighting passages that make him feel a certain type of way, and analyzing them to understand what makes them so powerful. He loves the power authors give their readers--to escape this world, to find meaning in theirs.

When he gets accepted to Colombia, it just makes sense for him to be an English major.

And he loves every second of it.

He loves writing papers and sticking to the most outlandish interpretations of Kafka, joining the campus newspaper club--even all the terrible peer reviews he has to do. He adores it all.

And then he graduates.

Magna Cum Laude, of course.

And David's not really sure what to do.

And a few months of crashing on friends' couches until he can get something published turns into a year turns into eighteen months turns into "Don't sweat it, you'll find something," and "Hey, I know a guy at The World who'd love to have you write columns," and if one more person tells him about the twelve publishers who rejected Harry Potter, he is going to pop a vein.

And then he's working for a Tax Attorney's office as a secretary and he hates every stupid minute of it, but it pays the bills for about a year before the office downsizes due to an actual fucking pandemic and decides he's the first to go.

He crashes with Sarah until quarantine is over. Then he spends another year working odds-and-ends jobs to help her with rent because he is not a freeloader with an English degree, for fuck's sake.

Sarah sends him a listing for a teaching position at a district in Brooklyn. Alternative Certification paid for by the campus. Eleventh Grade English.

It's a steady income, and he has an entire year to get his teaching certificate.

David applies for the position, not expecting to even really be considered, but in this teacher shortage--all the school is looking for, really, is a warm body.

David accepts the job.

He's always been good at school.

---

There's a weird, lanky looking guy who comes into Jack's class unannounced, accompanied by the academic dean, who informs Jack (with absolutely no heads up) that Mr. Jacobs is their newest English teacher and needs three more hours of live Observations before he's allowed to begin his classes.

Jack is less than thrilled at being observed for the last half of the day, but Mr. Jacobs smiles awkwardly and waves and that’s the end of that. Jack is instantly endeared by this guy who is way in over his head.

The academic Dean leaves, and Mr. Jacobs retrieves a binder and notebook from his messenger bag. As Jack resumes his lesson, the newest teacher takes fastidious notes throughout.

Jack has to actively try not to smile when one of his students goes to Mr. Jacobs for help with a guided practice warm up sketch. Mr. Jacobs seems surprised, but easily answers the questions best he can.

At least this new guy seems to care.

---

At the end of the day, David gathers his things into his bag and heads towards Mr. Kelly, extending his hand. “Thanks so much for this, Mr. Kelly. I really appreciate it.”

“Call me Jack.” He takes David’s hand.

“David.”

“Nice to meet you, Davey.” David’s stomach does a funny little flip at the nickname. It rolls off of Jack’s tongue so casually, so easily, that David doesn’t even feel the need to correct him. “If ya have any other questions, lemme know.”

David digs a pen out of his front pocket and extends it to Jack. “No questions, but could I get your signature on my observations sheet?”

“‘Course.”

The pen passes between their hands and with it, a bolt of electricity David wonders if he’s imagining, but hopes he isn’t.

He is not ogling the muscles of Jack’s hands as they sign the papers, and he’s definitely not noticing the way Jack’s smock hugs his waist where it’s tied behind his back, or the way his rolled up sleeves seem to broaden his shoulders.

“I noticed you have pictures detailing the steps on each of your assignment packets,” David says, redirecting his train of thought towards something work-appropriate.

“Reading ain’t so easy for all kids.”

Jack says it like it’s the simplest explanation in the world, with a shrug and an inherent understanding of this demographic that David lacks.

He hands the pen back to David, along with the paperwork, now donning his signature is messy script letters.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m down the hall.” David has never been particularly boy crazy, but even he is not immune to the charms of Jack’s radiant smile. “If you ever need anything, Davey.”

It’s an offer for mentorship, not a marriage proposal. And still, color rises to David’s cheeks, despite his best efforts to remain cool.

“I’ll uh, see you around.” The words come out high and strangled in his throat, eliciting the widening of Jack’s already knee-weakening, cocky, shit eating grin, but David still hopes there’s truth to them.

It’s clear he has a lot to learn from Jack.

---

Jack pops in to Davey’s room once during his own lunch, and is delighted to find out Pulitzer High’s newest addition has the same period off.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Davey is smart as a whip, he’s passionate, he’s organized (which comes in handy on a Teacher Work Day. Davey spends some time helping Jack organize supplies, and Jack hangs up art and decorations he’d made for Davey’s room).

He finds out that teaching wasn’t always in the plan for Davey, it was just something he sort of fell into. And still, Jack can see the effort he puts into his lesson plans, the quick way he’s learning the ropes and never makes the same mistake twice.

Jack knows teachers who’ve been doing this for years, and don’t have the dedication to self-improvement that Davey has.

And not that Jack is into the habit of checking out his coworkers, but Davey sure as hell ain’t ugly.

He's got a smile that makes you feel like a winner, if you've earned one from him, and he's surprisingly strong (as Jack found out on the aforementioned Teacher Work Day, his mind sputtering and stalling like a dying car when he saw Davey haul out three huge boxes of art supplies from his closet).

Lunch together becomes a regular thing. Which means Davey has words to say about Jack's typical lunch--or lack thereof. One day, Davey unceremoniously presents Jack with a Tupperware of latkes.

“Eat,” he orders.

Jack side eyes him. “I got lunch right here.”

“Cup-O-Noodles is not a meal.”

“Lunch doesn't have to be a meal.”

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, so you've never heard yourself speak?"

"Shut up and take the damn potatoes."

They're heavenly and damn delicious.

In return, Jack brings him a tub of spaghetti the next week.

"Eat," he mimics. Davey gives him a withering glance and Jack clarifies. "It's my ma's recipe. You won't regret it."

"Ah, so you can be a functioning adult," Davey teases. "You just choose not to."

Because Jack's got exactly two brain cells, and both of them are focused on Davey taking an uncharacteristically messy bite of the meal Jack's prepared for them, he says, offhandedly, "I choose to, for you."

Davey nearly coughs up his spaghetti, but doesn't mention it again.

Other than that, things at Pulitzer High are great. Quiet, even. Easy.

And then they get The Memo.

---

“I honestly don’t see what’s so bad about becoming a charter school.”

“Davey,” Jack hisses. Even though Jack seems upset, it doesn't stop the warmth in his stomach at hearing the nickname. “Davey, Davey, Davey. Charter schools get public funding, but they get to decide which kids stay and which kids go. Those signs that say 100% passing rates of standardized testing? It’s because they kick out anyone who can’t meet it. Including kids with LDs and 504 plans. It ain’t right.”

“Shit, I didn't know that. That's fuckin' awful."

"On top of that, you don't have to be certified to be hired."

"I'm not certified," Davey points out.

"Yeah, but you enrolled in one of them ACPs--so you will be. Charter schools don't require the year grace period because they don't require certification. Look, I'm not saying that every teacher in this country is perfect, or hell, even at this school. But it takes a lot of effort to get certified--even if it's not a perfect system--and I don't think it's something we should bypass. If Pulitzer goes Charter, Admin determines your hours, not the board. And kids with lower income households and undiagnosed LDs are gonna bear the brunt of these so-called higher standards. They'll fall right through the cracks, and ain't nothing we can do about it."

A tense silence falls between them, and Davey isn't quite sure how to respond. He doesn't disagree with anything Jack's said, now that he's informed, but he's at a loss regardless.

"I... Sorry, this sorta shit just gets me all worked up. I feel so... so stupidly helpless."

"No, no," Davey says quickly, reaching across the table to clasp Jack's hand in his. It comes automatically, before his brain has the good sense to cross it. Jack looks down at their twined hands, lips parted in what Davey thinks (hopes) might be a breathless gasp. "I get it."

Clearing his throat, he tears his hands away and tucks them beneath the table. He faces away, training his gaze to the creepy portrait of their school's namesake that's hung in the Teacher's Lounge and--

Shit.

Davey has an idea.

A big, stupid, risky idea.

A big, stupid, risky idea that might just be big and stupid and risky enough to impress Jack Kelly, who almost prides himself on being all those things.

"You know about Joseph Pulitzer?" Davey finally asks.

“Yeah, wasn’t he some big time publisher or something?”

“He was. He also tried raising newspaper prices for kids who made a living selling them.”

“Sounds like a real sweetie. Taking advantage of a buncha kids like that.”

“I mean, they did fight back. Gotta give them that credit.”

“They fought back? Against a giant like Pulitzer? How’d they manage that?”

“Well.” Davey turns to meet Jack’s gaze. “They went on strike.”

#javey #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #newsies 2017 #newsies #I have…. more thoughts #livesies #so there might be a part two to this????#or I might turn it in to a full out fic lmao lmk what y’all think #bc this is just kinda *waves vaguely* there #no beta we die like men #also sorry ive never written javey before so dont be mean pls #i havent written anything except klaine in like. ten years lasdjfhdjfsd PLS BE KIND I AM A SIMPLE WOMAN-ADJACENT PERSON

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