The Islamic School Teacher | معلمة المدرسة الإسلامية
"She teaches at an Islamic school in Sydney. He's the single father who volunteers constantly. Their paths cross over bake sales and homework—and become something more."
The Islamic School Teacher
معلمة المدرسة الإسلامية
Islamic Academy has three hundred students.
I teach Year 4. I know every child, every parent.
Especially Khalid.
I'm Sister Mariam.
Forty, Malaysian-Australian, teaching for fifteen years. My classroom is my kingdom.
Khalid's daughter Fatima is in my class.
He's forty-three.
Widower, raising Fatima alone. He volunteers for everything—bake sales, sports days, library duty.
"You're here again," I observe.
"Fatima needs me present."
"She's doing fine."
"Then I need to be present."
We keep crossing paths.
At parent-teacher conferences, at assemblies, in the car park at drop-off.
"Sister Mariam is my favorite teacher," Fatima announces.
"Mine too," Khalid says, not quite looking at me.
"Why do you volunteer so much? Really?"
We're at the end-of-year carnival. His booth serves halal sausages.
"Because after my wife died, I was lost. The school gave me purpose."
"Just the school?"
"There might be other reasons."
"Such as?"
"Conversations with certain teachers. About more than homework."
"Khalid—"
"I know. It's inappropriate. You're Fatima's teacher."
"It's... complicated."
"Complicated isn't impossible."
Fatima graduates to Year 5.
Different teacher now. The barrier lifts slightly.
"Can I take you to coffee?" he asks.
"In public?"
"Where else? We're good Muslims."
Coffee becomes dinners.
Always chaperoned by circumstance—other parents see us, community eyes watch.
"People will talk," I warn.
"People always talk. Let them talk about something good."
The first kiss is in his car.
After a school event, darkness giving us privacy.
"Finally," he breathes.
"Is this okay?"
"This is halal. Or will be."
"Will be?"
"Marry me. Make this proper."
"We've only been seeing each other for—"
"Six months. And I've wanted you for two years. Is that not enough?"
"Yes."
"Yes you'll marry me?"
"Yes to everything."
We marry over summer break.
When school starts, Fatima tells everyone her teacher is now her mother.
"Awkward?" Khalid asks.
"Perfect."
Our first night is sweet.
Two people who waited, did everything right.
"Beautiful," he says.
"Husband."
"Wife. Finally."
Five years later
We have a son now.
I still teach. He still volunteers.
"Best parent helper?" I ask.
"Best teacher."
"That's nepotism."
"That's truth."
Alhamdulillah.
For schools that build families.
For fathers who volunteer.
For teachers who become more.
The End.