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“Before we begin, I’d like to share the latest feedback we received this morning for the new presentation programming for grades 9 through 12.” Amalia opened a beige folder. “Thirteen out of eighteen schools have reported back so far. We received one ‘very good’, one ‘good’, three ‘fairs’, and eight called it ‘poor’.”

Ouch. Georgie looked sidelong, but Oliver stared straight ahead.

“Comments included ‘as interesting as a Pet Rock’, ‘My two-year-old could’ve done better,’ and ‘Recess would’ve been more informative.’” Slightly pressing her lips, Amalia closed the file with a disapproving glance across her desk. “Obviously, we have work to do.”

As Oliver nodded, Georgie squirmed with secondhand embarrassment.

“I agree. It’s time for a different approach,” he replied, his voice calm. “From what I’ve gathered, we’ve traditionally created our school curriculum based upon what we, as curators, feel would best represent our collection and Egypt’s history. Recently, however, it’s come to my attention that this method doesn’t include our visiting students in that important equation. It completely ignores what they need in order to learn and retain historical information. It made me question whether anyone has ever asked what they might be interested in? Or how they’d prefer to learn?”

“What’s there to ask?” Sitting back in her chair, Amalia removed her glasses. “Students find mummies fascinating. It’s a given.”

“You’re right. Kids love them—for the first five minutes,” said Oliver. “After that, they often become fidgety and bored. We’ve traditionally presented a verbal list of facts and figures to counter that restlessness, but this type of presentation is as unappealing as the textbooks they’re forced to read at school. No wonder they’re checking out and acting up. We’re giving them nothing new to sink their teeth into.”

His eyes met Georgie’s briefly, his gaze professional. “And that’s where Georgina comes in. She’s industrious and forward thinking, passionate about history and teaching. I’ve seen her in action here with her own students, and I believe she’s the expert to lead us in the right direction.”

Whoa. Georgie’s breath hitched. She’d never received such an effusive compliment in all her years of teaching. She stole a look at Oliver and found him there waiting, a subtle grin softening his lips.

“Georgina knows better than anyone what holds a student’s attention and what doesn’t.” His eyes swung back to Amalia. “Her lessons are participatory and engaging, and her students enjoy what they’re being taught. They excel with high test scores, often place in nationwide essay competitions, and graduate high school with an abundance of qualifications⁠—”

“Well, that is the goal of education—passing on knowledge, preparing students for future success beyond the classroom.” Amalia smirked as she opened and closed the arms of her glasses. “With all due respect, if Ms. Law wasn’t achieving those goals, she’d probably be employed in some other field.”

Snarky! Georgie scrunched her toes inside her flats.

“Perhaps, but luckily for us, she’s not,” replied Oliver, picking up his water glass. “And she wants to take time out of her busy schedule to help us.”

Delight danced in Georgie’s chest as he took a substantial drink. Oliver was such a badass! Singing her praises one moment then defending her the next, without even the slightest quiver or reticence in his voice. So much for Amalia’s intimidating putdowns. Oliver wasn’t having it, at all.

Georgie glanced down and smiled furtively. But where did this Oliver come from? His boldness was surprising and deliciously sexy. You always have to watch out for the quiet ones. Her glee withered, however, recalling the romantic disinterest he’d shown her on Bloor Street earlier. Shifting in her seat, she tilted her head and leaned in, refusing to let inappropriate emotions derail such an important meeting.

Oliver lowered his water. “I think at this point we have to face up to the facts. Until now, we haven’t done our part as museum educators. We’ve fallen short. We’ve failed the students who visit us, who seek an enthusiastic mentor in their quest to learn.”

Amalia flinched.

Holy shit! He went there. Georgie fought hard, keeping her expression neutral.

Oliver leaned forward, returning the glass to the desk. “But it’s not too late. With Georgina’s expertise and input, I’m proposing we take our curriculum to a higher level with proven techniques and innovative ideas. Moving forward, our presentations will be worthy of the young minds who grace our halls as well as the endowments we receive from our esteemed benefactors.”

Amalia swiveled her chair in a slow, uninterrupted arc. “Those donations have taken a huge hit as of late. We simply can’t afford to lose any more or heads will roll. Yours, mine, Haruki’s.”

Oliver’s swallowed. “Then it’s good we’re meeting today. Change starts now, right here.”

Putting her glasses on, Amalia pitched forward. “Okay. So what’s this idea you’ve been working on?”

Oliver glanced at Georgie with a nod to say, You’re on.

She opened her folder of typed notes, hoping her hands weren’t shaking too noticeably. “As you both mentioned, we all love mummies. They’re ghoulish, enigmatic. The highlight of every museum trip.

“But it’s easy to look at them as inanimate objects, forgetting they once lived and laughed, enjoyed favourite foods and hobbies, socialized with friends and celebrated milestones. They were a lot like us. However, today’s students can find that tough to envision when they’re staring at a dehydrated face that dates back thousands of years. It’s quite the disconnect, so it’s no surprise a teenager might leave the museum thinking, ‘Why should I care? I have nothing in common with them.’

“Now, we know, as educators, that they have plenty in common. But how do we help our students create this tangible connection, not only to the mummies in your collection, but also to the people who cared for and mourned them? My answer is through roleplay.”

Amalia’s eyes widened.

“Students are more likely to pay attention and retain information when they can walk in the shoes of the people involved. With this aim in mind, we think it would be beneficial for students to act out an ancient Egyptian burial procession during their school visits.”

“And how would you accomplish this?” asked Amalia. “Time is of the essence on a school trip. They don’t have all day with us.”

Georgie nodded once. “You’re right. They don’t. That’s why we’ve devised a participatory presentation that creates an emotional connection in the briefest of visits by relying on the students’ sense of sight, touch, smell, and sound. Starting with sight, we’d have the students put on costumes⁠—”