“No, Deacon—no, we don’t hit! Stop that!”

Your voice grew louder and more frustrated as two of your kindergarteners started fighting each other in the playspace. The boys tugged at each others’ clothes and ripped at each others’ hair like animals. But you weren’t from this world. You didn’t even expect this job. And you could hardly handle these kids.

Looking at the scene, you’d hardly expect that these kids were bred from the New York elite—but they were. They were kids of celebrities and tech millionaires. If only they knew their parents were spending $70,000 a year so they could speak fluent Mandarin by ten.

One of the boys toppled the other. From the way their classmates were huddled, you couldn’t break the fight. You knew that, if you couldn’t stop this, the kids would tell their parents, their parents would tell your boss, and you’d lose your job.

But it wasn’t public school. You couldn’t just yell at the kids either, or then the same thing would happen. You were about to rip your hair out when Noel rushed in. He was bigger than you, ripped for a kindergarten teacher, and had a booming voice. Somehow, he knew these kids. And he could control them, not you.

“Hey. Hey!” He got between the boys, breaking up the fight. “Why are using our hands and not our words?” From there, all the kids made up and their troubles melted away. Even the boys were playing together again. Your face reddened. How did he do that?