WHY I TEACH-Part 20: Who Let The Dogs Out

On Friday during third period, I saw Javier’s buddy in the hallway and asked how he was.

“Good. His parents don’t have insurance, so Javi’s working for his uncle to help pay the bill.”

“Is he coming back to school?”

“Nah, he’s going to work full time.”

I walked numbly to Mr. Myers’ office. As I entered, Mrs. Orian dismissively waved me toward his office door.

“Come in, have a seat,” Mr. Myers said.

I sat and wiped my sweaty hands on my skirt.

“As you know, I’ve called you in for a formal review of your conduct, including the incident involving Javier Ramirez.”

“That was a total freak accident,” I said.

“It is my understanding the two boys were fighting and you did nothing to stop it.”

“First of all, it isn’t my place to stop fights. And they weren’t fighting. They were just playing around,” I replied.

“And is this common behavior in your classroom?”

“You’ve been watching me, shouldn’t you know?” Is what I really wanted to say. “No, it isn’t common behavior,” is what I said. “One of the boys wasn’t even supposed to be in my classroom. He didn’t have a hall pass, so he was just wandering around the school.”

“Nevertheless, you should have taken control of the situation.” He straightened the stack of papers in front of him. “We also have a long list of complaints filed against you.”

“Complaints? About what? From who?”

“Everything from classroom disruptions, fire hazards, inappropriate use of materials, excessive materials on walls, disorganized and cluttered classroom, the list is quite long.”

“I don’t suppose those all came from the same person.” Freaking devil-woman.

“Anyone is free to lodge a complaint,” Mr. Myers said in an authoritatively asinine way.

“And you’ve found these claims to be true?”

He cleared his throat and shuffled his stack of papers. “I have no choice but to put you on probation with an action plan for improvement. If I don’t see any improvement at the end of 3 months, these incidents will become part of your permanent record and we may withhold a contract for next year.”

“OK, what is the action plan?”

Mr. Myers scoffed. “Do better.” He handed me the official discipline form. “Sign here.”

I did. “That’s it? Do better?”

“Yes, you’re dismissed,” he said as he handed me the blue copy of the form.

I walked to Mr. B.’s classroom. Unfortunately, a group of students was using the soundproof room.

“Oh, the blue form of death,” Mr. B. said as he noticed the paper in my hand. “I’ve had a few of those in my lifetime.”

I stared blankly at him, too numb to even react.

“One year, I had a kid complain that I was failing him because he was black.”

I blinked and looked at him. “What did you do?”

“Well, during the meeting, I excused myself for a minute, went to the back of the school where all the potheads hang out, grabbed four non-black failing students, and brought them back with me. The students confirmed they too were failing my class because just like the kid who had accused me of racism, they didn’t do anything in my class.”

I laughed.

“I don’t play favorites. I’m not their friend. I’m here to teach them and help them be something else.”

“So what do I do?”

“Do better,” Mr. B. offered with a sinister smile.

I laughed and shook my head.

“Seriously though, you’re a great teacher, just keep doing what you are doing. Karma will take care of its own.” He reached out and patted me on the shoulder. “I think I’ve got an empty frame around here if you want to frame that thing and hang it on your wall.”

“Nah, I’m good, but thanks.”

I left his room and headed toward the devil woman’s classroom. I’d been in several department meetings with her, though she often sat with a close-knit group of teachers. Besides my conversation with her about the student who had the miscarriage, I’d really not had any interaction with her.

I knocked on the classroom door as I entered. She looked up from her large metal desk. I noticed a “Beware of the Dog” warning poster attached to the side of the desk.

She smiled sweetly. “To what do I have this honor?”

“I just want to know what it is about me that you don’t seem to like.”

Her face soured instantly. “Oh, honey, I don’t like anyone, so don’t feel special.”

“Why do you keep lodging complaints against me to Myers?”

“Do you mean why do I inform Principal Myers when I notice you’re breaking the rules?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s my job,” she said smugly.

“Your job is to teach accounting.” I shot back.

She huffed. “We don’t need people like you here.”

I took a step back. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“You think you are going to help these kids, make a difference in their lives, be some great savior for them?”

I took another step back. “What are you talking about?”

“I hear them talking about all the garbage you do for them, it’s just pathetic how much you want them to like you.” She stood and moved toward me.

I took two more steps back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stuck her finger out and poked me in the chest. “You think you’re better than everyone else.”

Clarity flooded my brain. I swatted her finger away from me. “You’re jealous,” I said cooly.

She stepped away, somewhat taken back.

“You pretended to care about the kids, but they found out you’re nothing but a fraud. It’s like they were stuck in some abusive relationship and finally broke free and found someone who actually cares about them. You’re just a jealous hag with no life and no one. You know it, I know it, and the students know it.”

She stepped back.

“And stay out of my business,” I ordered as I turned and walked out of her classroom.

I noticed several of my students standing in the hallway outside of the doorway. I got a few thumbs up, fist bumps, and even a “You told her!”

When I got to school Monday morning, I noticed a familiar “Beware of the Dog” poster taped to the front of my desk. I took a permanent marker and added the word “nice”.