The Teacher's Lounge

The teacher's lounge had a lot of scars on the wall. It served many functions. It was a sanctuary, a stress reliever, a boxing ring, and even a bunker. There was a gun threat one year, and the entire support staff locked themselves in the teacher's lounge. The walls were painted a pale white that had begun to peel. There was an old leather sofa, a microwave, and a round table in the middle with three chairs, two of which rocked side to side because the legs were uneven. In front of the sofa was a coffee table with coffee cup ring stains, and across from the sofa was a makeshift stand with an old TV with rabbit ears. The teacher's lounge even had its smell, clean over old. The cleaning crew cleaned it every day, but you could still smell the old leather from the couch, burnt popcorn, the smell of burnt coffee from being left on the burner, and the smell from the rug beneath the coffee table.

 "Why do we do this, Harry?" Said Jessica, the sixth-grade English teacher of five years. She just walked into the lounge and flopped onto the old leather couch peeling at the armrest with cracks on the seat cushions that made it look like a relief map of the Rockies.

"Well, Jessica, I don't know about you, but I do it because I want to make a difference."

Jessica was in her late twenties; she wore her long blond hair in a ponytail, and her glasses made her look like an old-fashioned librarian. Despite the button-up look, you could tell she was an attractive lady. 

"Harry, Harry, Harry, you know as well as I do that we aren't making a difference. Test scores are down, many of these kids suffer from attention disorders, and all they want to do is play games. How the hell can I make a difference with that?"

Harry, a black man in his early forties, had nothing special about his physique. His readers sat low on his nose, so he always looked over the frames when talking with somebody. He had a folded piece of newspaper in his hands because he loved doing the crossword puzzle. Jessica reminded him of when he started teaching. Fresh out of college, he was ready to take on the world, and soon after, the reality that hit Jessica smacked him in the face. 

He sat on the other end of the worn couch with his neat and clean blue cardigan, looked into her defeated eyes, and said. "Never give up! Sometimes I wanted to call it quits, but I hung in there and am glad I did." Harry taught fifth and sixth-grade science and was recognized as one of the best teachers in the state. He had a unique way of using a hands-on approach that always engaged his students. 

Jessica removed her glasses and sat them on the table atop a teacher's joke etched into the wood. Why were the teacher's eyes crossed? Because she couldn't control her pupils! That joke had been there for years. 

"Harry, I'm trying, but today, I caught two kids cheating on their test, and I gave them both an F. Do you know what they said to me? I was an incompetent teacher who did not know what I was doing. One kid said he would bring his parent up to the school, who, by the way, works at the governor's office. How do you deal with that?" Jessica began to cry. "I wanted to slap that kid!"

Harry said, "Fifty years ago, you could get away with that. My dad said in some schools, that actually happened. It is a different time now. We must watch what we do and say to kids these days. You know, cheating has been around even back then, so even though the children have changed, their bad habits have not. We must learn how to adapt to the kids."

"How do I do that, Harry?"

"By keeping them engaged, challenging them against each other and you. Make it fun, don't be afraid to be yourself, and have fun; the most important thing you can do is find the one. There is always that one student or two that accepts your challenges. That student is usually confident and wants to impress you and the other students. That student will buy into your plan, and the others will soon follow.

Jessica wiped the tears from her eyes and started to feel better about herself. Harry was right; she could do this because she was a determined teacher who wanted to make a difference. "Thanks, Harry; I feel much better now. I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

"Anytime, Jessica, I am always available to you."

Jessica left the room, and five minutes later, in came Felicia Jones.

"I hate this place!" She said.

"Whoa, Whoa," Harry raised his paper as if it were a glove used to catch her words, "those are powerful words, you know. Having a bad day?"

"Yeah, a couple of my kids threw a ball around the room every time I turned to write on the chalkboard. Their game was to see who got caught first. I made the kid I caught tell me all who were involved, and I sent all three down to the principal's office." Their parents had to come and pick them up, and one parent confronted me about it like it was my fault. It's hard enough dealing with these kids, Harry; now we have to deal with their parents too. I'm not cut out for this!"

Felicia turned and sat on the old couch and began to cry. Harry could tell she was upset because her hands were shaking. 

"I can't do this anymore, Harry. I came into this profession to teach, not babysit, and now when you discipline one of them, you have to answer to their parents; it's not fair!"

Felicia was a tall black lady with short hair cut to perfection. At age thirty, she had been teaching for seven years. She wore very little makeup because her natural beauty stood out; you could tell she cared for herself. She went to the gym thrice a week, always ate healthily, and looked like she had just graduated from college.

"Felicia, you know this job is a lot more than teaching. It has always been that way. I remember when I had a student living on the streets with his mom, and I went to find adequate housing for them and got her a job with the school. That was more than teaching because the boy on the street was a promising student who went on to college and is now head of engineering with a large company. This is why we do it, Felicia."

"I know, Harry; I just needed someone to talk to. "Thank you for listening."

Felicia rose from the couch and left the room feeling much better. Yes, the Teacher's Lounge was many things, but it was mostly known for free therapy sessions by the professor, Dr. Harry Porter. Harry was considered an unsung hero by many because, for the last 12 years, he has been saving teachers' careers right there in his office, the old, dingy, smelly teacher's lounge.