They were just sitting. Waiting. Quietly. All of them.
Naina opened the door and walked in. Thirty heads turned simultaneously, with the precision of something practised. Thirty faces — attentive, pleasant, open. The faces of students who were being exactly what students were supposed to be, in the specific way of people who had decided to be what they were supposed to be rather than simply being it.
"Good morning," she said. "I'm Ms. Naina Sharma. I'll be taking over from Ms. Rao for the next few weeks."
Thirty voices, exactly together: "Good morning, Ms. Sharma."
The timing of it was perfect. The tone was correct. The word "morning" landed at precisely the same moment from all thirty mouths. She had never been greeted by a class that sounded rehearsed.
She looked at them. They looked at her. Everyone was smiling the right amount.
"I thought we'd start with where Ms. Rao left off," Naina said. "The notes say you were in the middle of the 'To Kill a Mockingbird' unit — the trial chapters. Can someone tell me where you finished on Friday?"
Three hands went up simultaneously. She called on the girl in the front row, whose name tag — they had name tags, someone had put name tags on all the desks before she arrived — said: Ananya.
