It hit me one evening while I was going over my latest project budget. Between materials for my solar models, the books I needed, and the various small tools I'd gathered, I was running out of funds. Quickly. I'd always managed to save here and there, spending almost nothing outside of what I needed for school and my lab. But lately, it felt like the money was slipping through my fingers faster than I could count it.
I sat back, rubbing my temples. I'd need to find a way to make some extra money if I wanted to keep up my research. The only problem? I was barely fifteen, and job opportunities were limited for someone my age.
The next day, I decided to give tutoring a shot. It seemed logical—I was already helping classmates with homework, and maybe some parents would be interested in hiring a private tutor for their kids. I spent hours after school dropping by local tutoring centers, pitching myself as a capable, knowledgeable "mini-instructor." But every time, I got the same polite response: "You're too young."
Next, I thought about trying out a job that required less experience, maybe something like babysitting or helping out at a daycare. At least that way, I could put my patience to use, and besides, how hard could it be to read stories to kids or keep them entertained? But even that wasn't as easy as I'd hoped. Everywhere I went, the answer was always a gentle but firm, "Sorry, we don't hire students this young."
I walked home in frustration, feeling like I'd hit a dead end. Every time I thought of a possible job, it either didn't work out, or they turned me away as soon as they realized I was only in high school. The problem was, none of the options seemed quite right for me anyway. Teaching science or tutoring? Sure. But babysitting? That felt…out of place.
I stared at the ground, wondering if maybe I'd have to give up some of my projects, at least until I found a way to earn money.
After a few more failed attempts, I realized I was running out of options. And that's when an idea popped into my head, one that I wasn't entirely comfortable with: I could ask the principal for help.
The thought made me cringe a little. The principal was already doing a lot by letting me use the vacant classroom as my lab, and I didn't want to seem like I was taking advantage of her kindness. But I had no other ideas, and desperation was starting to push aside my hesitation. So, the next day, I mustered up my courage and headed to her office.
"Come in, Reina," she said with a welcoming smile as I stepped into her office.
I cleared my throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Um, Principal Yamada, I…I wanted to ask you something."
She looked genuinely interested, setting her paperwork aside. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
I hesitated, fidgeting slightly. "I… I need to make some extra money. For my projects." I glanced at her, gauging her reaction. She looked thoughtful, so I continued. "I tried finding jobs outside, like tutoring or working with kids, but everyone turned me down because of my age."
Her eyes softened, and I could tell she understood the frustration in my voice.
"So, I was wondering if maybe… there was something I could do here? Like, cleaning, or helping in the library, or… whatever you need, really."
Principal Yamada paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Cleaning? Reina, you've done far more than enough for the school just by bringing life to that classroom. Surely, we can find something a little more fitting for you."
I felt a twinge of embarrassment. I hadn't wanted to make this a big deal; I just needed a little extra cash. "I don't mind cleaning, really," I said quickly. "I'm just trying to find a way to fund my projects without… well, asking my parents for everything."
She nodded, a glint of understanding in her eyes. "I can respect that, Reina. But I think I have a better idea."
That surprised me. I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
Principal Yamada leaned forward with a small smile. "How would you feel about doing some one-on-one tutoring for our top students? We've actually been considering hiring a peer tutor for advanced science and math topics, someone who could relate better to the students. I believe you'd be more than qualified for the job, considering all the help you already give your classmates."
I stared at her, a bit stunned. "You… you want me to tutor?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't be like regular tutoring. I'd arrange for you to work with only a few students at a time, mostly those who are serious about science or math. You'd be able to set your own schedule and keep it manageable so it doesn't interfere with your schoolwork or your time in the lab."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was more than I'd hoped for—and so much better than cleaning or shelving books. I could actually get paid to teach science, the one thing I was passionate about, without giving up any of my projects. It was like a dream.
"And, of course, we'd pay you a fair hourly wage," she added with a smile, clearly enjoying my reaction. "The school has a small budget set aside for special student programs, and I think this would be a perfect use for it."
I nodded, still processing everything. "Thank you, Principal Yamada. I… I wasn't expecting this."
She chuckled softly. "You've already given so much to the school, Reina. It's only fair we give something back. Besides, I think the students here could learn a lot from you."
As I left her office, I felt a mix of excitement and relief. Not only had I found a way to fund my projects, but I'd also have the chance to teach science to people who were genuinely interested. And the best part? I'd be able to keep working on my dream without any interruptions.
That afternoon, I went straight to my lab and got to work, my mind buzzing with ideas. I could barely believe that the principal had trusted me with something so important. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was doing something that mattered, not just for me but for others too.
I looked around my lab, feeling a newfound sense of purpose. I'd have to start planning for my tutoring sessions soon, thinking of ways to make the lessons interesting and engaging for students who were as passionate as I was.
"Looks like I'll be sharing a little piece of my world after all," I murmured to myself with a small smile, glancing at my Andromeda model.
It was a compromise I hadn't expected, but one that felt right.