Mr. Ben Carter, wearing his trademark light-blue scrubs with a cartoon fox stitched on the pocket, stood in the center of the room, trying to keep calm while his two assistant nurses, Ms. Ramirez and Mr. Thomas, hustled beside him. A line of students snaked out the door, each with a different ailment. A boy clutched his stomach like it might explode, while a little girl sat on the exam table trying to hold back a bloody nose, hands cupped beneath her chin. Two second-graders sat side by side, holding matching ice packs on their heads after a playground head-butting incident. Another kid lay slumped on the cot in the corner, pale from what could be the flu—or just a regrettable breakfast burrito. Somewhere in the chaos, a child coughed dramatically, as if auditioning for a soap opera.

The boy in front sniffled. “My head hurts, and I don’t feel good everywhere.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ben muttered under his breath, crouching to take a quick peek into the boy’s ears and mouth. With the practiced efficiency of a dad who had seen it all, he reached for a thermometer. “Let’s see if you’re running a fever or just need a snack.”

Meanwhile, Ms. Ramirez restocked the supply closet, tossing boxes of band-aids onto the counter like a blackjack dealer. “Mr. Carter, we’re out of ice packs again.”

“We always are,” Ben sighed. “Use the frozen peas from the staff fridge if you have to—again.”

Across the room, Mr. Thomas was mediating a minor crisis between the head-butting duo. “She started it!” one of them cried, clutching his ice pack like a trophy of war.

Ben snapped, his voice firm but calm. “Enough, both of you! Ice packs on, mouths closed, or I’m sending you back to class.”

Before the room could spiral further, Ben turned and spotted his six-year-old daughter, Suki, standing by the door with a cute little smile.

“Suki, honey, this isn’t the best time—”