Monday morning is cold and drizzly. Fallen leaves are smears of yellow and orange on the wet sidewalk as I quickly stride from the faculty lot to the school's entrance. I stomp my feet on the rug and shake the raindrops from my hood. I guess a little rain is better than ice or snow.

When I walk into my office, I place my travel-coffee mug on my desk, shrug out of my wet jacket, plop my bag down, and collapse into my chair. After a deep breath, I take a few sips of coffee and then pull my laptop out from my bag and plug it into its waiting charger.

My computer is just coming to life as Jessica walks in through the door, still shaking drops from her now-closed umbrella.

"Happy Monday," she greets me. "How was your holiday weekend?"

"Honestly, I'm happy to be back at school." I let out a chuckle and my lip twitches into a half smile. "My parents stayed through Sunday. And as much as I am grateful for how they distract the kids, they're also..."

"Exhausting?" she guesses as she crosses the room to sit at her desk.

That's not exactly how I would describe it. My folks do their best to help and not be a burden. They offer to load the dishwasher, my mom is always folding laundry, and my dad paid for two nights of takeout. But no matter how unobtrusive they try to be, our routine still gets thrown off.

Instead of going into the nuances of my weekend, I just chuckle again. "Sounds like you know how it is. How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Oh, you know. It was nice. Really." Jessica pulls out her laptop, opens it up, and as it boots up, she tears off a page from her desk calendar. "Wow, December already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," I reply, turning my attention back to my computer screen. It's not a lie. The year really seems to be flying by. It always feels like once you reach the holidays, you are on the slippery slope to summer. After Winter Break, there are only six weeks until February Break and then only seven weeks until Spring Break. And after Spring Break, forget about it. It's standardized test season followed by field trips and spirit rallies and before you know it, it's summer.

Instead of being comforting, the thought makes me clench with anxiety. There is so much left to accomplish this year.

I sign into my work email and see twenty-three unread messages, which actually isn't too bad. Most people spent the long weekend with their families and off of technology. Half of the emails are junk with subject lines like: Register Today! Last Chance! Sign-up Now! I quickly trash the webinar invitations for products that I've never heard of and start by opening up the Monday Memo, which is how Ms. Reid shares announcements for the week. As I skim through the rundown of upcoming events, I see that this month's all-school assembly is entitled, "The Importance of Community Service."

Shit. Did Ms. Reid reply to the email I sent her Wednesday about Blake's assembly idea? With everything happening, I forgot to fret over it.

I click back to my inbox and skim down the unread messages. Nothing.

"Hey, Jessica," I say, swiveling in my chair to face her. "Did you happen to see if Ms. Reid was in her office when you walked by?"

Jessica spares me a glance. "I think so. I saw her car, but her office door was closed."

Before I can respond, there is a knock on the doorframe. "Good morning, Mr. Graham. Do you have a minute?" Ms. Reid asks. "I'd like to hear more about Blake's interesting idea."

"Yes, of course." I swivel my chair back around, then stand and grab my coffee.

Jessica raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment as I follow our principal back to her office.

Ms. Reid sits down at the large conference table that takes up most of her office, and I pull up a chair opposite her. She has the shades half-open and I can see the raindrops beading on the glass behind her. I wonder if the skies will clear up, or if we'll have to have indoor recess. That'd be a crappy way to return to school after four and a half days off.

"So," she begins, and I shift my eyes from the window to her. "A whole school assembly about gender sensitivity?"

"Blake was really inspired by the speaker last week. He also seemed to believe that an assembly about transgender rights was already being planned. I'm not sure if that's actually what his mother told him, or that was just what he heard."

Ms. Reid nods. "At the beginning of the year, when I planned the sensitivity training for the staff, I considered also having one for students, but decided against it."

"Too sensitive of a topic for a large audience?" I guess. I mean, it was my first thought, too. While the topics we cover at assembly vary, they usually tie into the curriculum somehow. Past topics have been: "The Importance of Grit," "Putting the Fun in Fundraisers," and an introduction to our "Drop Everything And Read" initiative. Gender seems to fall into a different category.

"Not too sensitive, per se. Our students can handle 'sensitive.'" She steeples her fingers, resting her elbows on the conference table. "But an assembly isn't an interactive forum. Kids have a lot of questions, and it seemed like a conversation better suited to the classroom."

I lean forward, matching her posture. "I agree. Kids do have a lot of questions. But, are all our faculty equally capable of answering those questions?"

As I finish speaking, my eyes land on two pictures hanging on the wall next to her desk. One is of the entire faculty standing in front of the building this year. It was taken the morning of school picture day. The other one is a picture of the staff from when the new wing of the school building was built. I'm not sure of the exact year, but based on the shoulder pads and pleated pants, it must be at least twenty-five or thirty years ago. There are quite a few people who are in both photographs, but the one person who jumps out at me is Steve, who is prominent in the center of both shots.

Ms. Reid glances over to where I'm looking. "I had hoped that the training faculty received at the beginning of the year would have prepared them for these conversations. But, Mr. Graham, I am sure you are correct. And, I do like that this idea is coming from Blake."

I nod. If this is something he wants, then it is an idea worth pursuing.

"Do you know Aiden Mills?" she asks.

"No." Not all trans guys know each other. The thought comes unbidden.

"He is a teacher at the high school and he is the one who put me in touch with Danielle Pontillo, the woman who led the faculty training. You could either reach out to him again, or, here is Ms. Pontillo's contact information." She picks up a pen and writes something down on a post-it note.

"So, I have your permission to go ahead and organize something?" I ask. "Are there dates that you have in mind?"

She shakes her head. "There are some outside presenters booked for events at the end of the year, but the next several months the assemblies are in house, and therefore flexible. Unless... did you have something in mind?"

I pause before answering, taking a moment to watch the rain continue to drip against the glass. "Trans-visibility day is in March. That might be fitting."

"Yes."

"But, with what Blake has experienced, maybe there is more urgency than to wait."

A ding comes from Ms. Reid's computer, which is sitting on her desk. She looks over at it, and then her eyes glance at the large clock on the wall. "Well, the first step will be to see if Ms. Pontillo has any availability, and if not, to see if Mr. Mills has additional resources to share."

And with that, I feel dismissed. I stand. "I will send out an inquiry email right away."

When I get back to my desk, Jessica has stepped out. Alone with my screen, I start to type.

The words feel muddled at first. Awkward. This should be a short request. I'm just inquiring if Danielle does presentations for students, and if she does, if she is available to lead an assembly around Trans Visibility Day. But do I mention our weird interaction in the hallway? Do I out myself to her in this email? No, and no. I should just stick to the main points.

It takes a few starts and stops before I get any words down, but after a few minutes I've composed something that I feel okay about sending.

I re-read my email two more times. Tiffany writes emails all day long. She knows all the jargon and can type something out and send it off in thirty seconds flat. I don't know how she does it. I'm a math guy. I'm better with numbers and spreadsheets than words. So, I constantly question my emails. Do I sound professional enough? Casual enough? Am I striking the right tone and including the necessary information?

I take a deep breath and as I exhale, I click on send.

Okay. Done. It's out into the world. Now all I have to do is wait.

I shut my laptop and stand. The doors will open any minute. I can hear the first school buses idling outside and students, dampened by rain, are congregating under the covered walkway just outside my office. Jessica and I walk out into the main office, each grab a walkie-talkie, and get ready to direct the flow of morning traffic.

The day passes by in a whirlwind of student intervention, teachers stopping me in the hallway to request assistance, and grade-level meetings. I only get to check my email a handful of times before the last period comes around.

When I sit down at my desk after dismissal, there's a response from Danielle. The light grey preview of the first line doesn't tell me much and its bold subject-lines beckons to me. So, I click the link and read.

She's already booked the last Friday in March for Trans Visibility Day. But–lucky for us–she has an opening on the last Friday in January.

This is really happening, isn't it? And soon, too.

I guess, when it rains, it pours.