A Boy Needs His Father

My customer service smile never leaves my face even as I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket for the fourth time. As I finish bagging up groceries for the fiftieth customer today, I subtly flag my manager, hoping he’s in a good enough mood to let me go on break a half-hour early.

           By the time I’m done ringing up the next customer in line, my manager is walking over. He looks annoyed, but not angry, so I take it to be a good sign. Before I can open my mouth to ask for my break, he says, “A call just came in for you on the store phone. It’s your son’s school.”

           I can’t say that I’m surprised. In fact, by the third missed call, I was already pretty certain that’s who it was. “I’m sorry,” I say as politely as possible. This manager already doesn’t like me, and I can’t afford to lose this job. “I know it’s not great timing, but would it be possible for me to-”

           “Just go,” my manager says as he waves his hand towards the exit. “Just know that this isn’t going to look good on your evaluation next month.”

           “I understand. Thank you!” It stings to act so grateful for such a small thing, but the truly painful part is knowing that underneath it all, I truly do feel grateful. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had gotten fired for something so small. Right now, I’m thrilled just to have another chance.

           I clock out and grab my purse from the breakroom, ignoring my manager’s sour look as I power walk through the store exit. It takes three tries to start the engine, and I find myself silently praying that the transmission will last another week, the same prayer I’ve been saying for a month now.

           But it starts, so I put it into gear and pull out of the parking lot. As soon as I’m on the road, I start taking deep breaths. It’s a calming technique that I started after the first time I got one of these phone calls. I’ve found that it helps me to keep things in perspective and not to immediately get angry at Charlie; at least, not until I know what it was that he did.

           There are days when I really hate my job. Sometimes I wish I had chosen a different career. It made sense, though – my passion for classic literature, my affinity for writing, my administrational and organizational skills. Of course, I wanted to be a prolific writer, but no one goes to school for that, at least, no one with any actual talent. All the great writers had their own careers until they made it as a writer. A career as a high school English teacher didn’t seem like such a stretch for me, and it gave me the chance to share the literature I love with eager young minds.

           Or, at least, it would if my students were actually eager, or if they actually used their minds in class. I really don’t hate teenagers, but after eighteen years of teaching, it still amazes me how blasé they can be about their education. So many of them refuse to read the material. They won’t speak up during class discussions, and when they do, it’s inappropriate or irrelevant. Every now and then, a student enters my class who truly wants to be there, who enjoys the material and my instruction. Then, I relish my job. Of course, I didn’t get any of those students this year.

           Instead, what I got is that Williams boy. As I make my way to Principal Carter’s office, I replay this afternoon’s incident in my head. The audacity of that boy! To be so insolent as to correct an adult! I never would have even considered such a thing as a student. To even think that he, a dimwitted youth, might know better than me - a highly educated adult - is preposterous! And yet, with no hesitation or guilt, the boy interrupted me in the middle of my lesson with the sole purpose of correcting a note on the whiteboard. Of course, he was wrong. That goes without saying. But the mere idea that he would willingly attempt to undermine my classroom was just too much.

           I have had my fair share of problems with that young man over the past few months, some of which have even resulted in phone calls to the boy’s mother, something I hate to do, but nothing has worked. It is time to end that boy’s arrogant disrespect once and for all.

           For the fourth time this month, I’m sitting in the office, waiting for my mom to get here so I can get this meeting over with. Principal Carter just sits at her desk across from me, shaking her head. Somehow, she always seems surprised when I’m sent to her, despite how many times it happens. Mr. Phillips is sitting off to the side, a smug smile on his face, and I hide my grimace. I know the guy doesn’t like me. I honestly don’t know why. Sure, he’s not the first teacher I didn’t get along with, but this time, I really don’t think I deserve it. The last time I ended up here, Mom begged me to try to make it work, and I really did try! I guess it just wasn’t enough. She’s going to be ticked.

           My mom comes bustling in, still wearing her work apron over her clothes with the name tag pinned on the front. Of course, she’ll be missing a few hours of work for this stupid meeting, which means her paycheck will be short thirty dollars or so this week, money we can’t afford to lose. But she won’t say anything. She never does. She’ll just try and make it work and ask me if there’s anything I need.

           “Ms. Williams,” Principal Carter begins. “I’m sorry to have called you in again. I’m sure it’s an inconvenience to you.”

           “Charlie is never an inconvenience,” I interrupt quickly. I know this woman must meet with dozens of parents every month, so I shouldn’t be surprised by her attitude, but to imply that a parent’s first priority isn’t her child is downright disrespectful!

“No, of course not,” the principal is quick to reassure me.

           “What is the problem?” I sigh. Best to get right to it, I suppose.

           “It seems that Charlie has been disrespecting his teachers . . . again.” I sigh again. I’ve been told that children behave differently for their parents than they do for other adults, but I still find it hard to believe that Charlie would intentionally disrespect a teacher. We’ve had our share of arguments, sure, but until this year, school was never a problem. He’s not a star student, but he does well enough. He doesn’t stir up trouble.

I glance over at the man sitting in the corner of the small office. This Mr. Phillips seems to be the common denominator. I don’t like to make assumptions, but if I had to guess which person in this room was causing the problem, it wouldn’t be Charlie.

           “Charlie, what happened?” I ask gently. If I know my son, he’s already feeling embarrassed and guilty. I do my best to push aside my annoyance and give him the benefit of the doubt.

           “Your son disrupted my lesson and attempted to correct me.” Mr. Phillips leaned forward out of his chair and jabbed a finger in Charlie’s direction. “He was not only rude and disrespectful; he disrupted the learning of his fellow students. Your son needs to be taught to respect his elders, Mrs. Williams!”

           “Miss,” I interrupt, reminding him for the fourth time this month that I’m not married. He smirks at me and then quickly turns the smirk into a false friendly smile.

           “Of course – Ms. Williams,” he says, putting unnecessary emphasis on my title. “As I was saying-”

           “I believe I asked my son what happened, Mr. Phillips,” I say coldly, keeping my customer service smile on my face.

           I’ve had my suspicions, but it is clear to me now that the boy’s problem begins with his mother. How is a boy supposed to learn to respect his elders when his own mother insists that he has the right to be heard before a man in a position of authority? It’s no wonder that he shows such blatant disregard for the rules. And of course, there is no one else to teach him. His mother has made it quite clear that there is no father in the picture.

           I’m tempted to make a point of insisting that I speak first, but one glance at Principal Carter tells me that doing so would not be in my best interest. She’s always so insistent that we listen to the parents’ concerns before raising our own. I don’t understand it. We’re a public school! It’s not as if these families are valued customers that we must bend over backwards to please. The school determines its rules and the consequences for breaking those rules, and if the parents of our students don’t like it, they are more than welcome to pay for private school!

           I try my best to ignore the way Mr. Phillips is glaring at Mom. It’s bad enough that he hates me. Mom has enough on her plate; she doesn’t need this guy causing her problems, too. “Mr. Phillips was writing Shakespeare quotes on the whiteboard and explaining their meaning. He used the quote ‘Now is the winter of our discontent’ and said it meant that the characters were restless and unhappy, but that’s not the whole quote.”

           “I have been studying literature longer than you have been alive,” Mr. Phillips says, almost snarling. “What makes you think you know Shakespeare better than me?”

           Mom looks like she’s about to jump down his throat, and this whole situation is already bad enough without her causing a scene, so I decide to try and appease this jerk. “I read Richard III over the summer, and I remembered the quote. What you wrote was right, but there’s more to it. It says, ‘Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer by this sun of York.’ It means that the mood has changed, that-”

           “I know what it means!” Mr. Phillips snaps. The way he side-eyes Principal Carter, I can tell that he wants to be nastier, but he doesn’t think he can get away with it. “That isn’t the point! The point, Charlie, is that you are a student, a child. I am an adult, an authority figure, and to interrupt me while I was teaching was incredibly rude!”

           For Mom’s sake, I swallow everything that I want to say and grumble an apology that I don’t really mean. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, but some of us already have a really hard time understanding Shakespearean language, and I was afraid that some of the others might get confused.”

           It’s painful to watch Charlie shift uncomfortably in his seat as he tries to find the words to placate this man. It’s almost a perfect mirror image of my own behavior with my managers and my customers – never say the wrong words, never speak too loudly, never make any gestures that might be taken the wrong way. I came to terms with that being my life a long time ago, but it never occurred to me before now that Charlie’s life could be the same way. I don’t want this life for my son.

           “Charlie,” the principal says diplomatically. “It sounds like you had good intentions, but I’m afraid Mr. Phillips felt that you were undermining his authority by speaking out of turn.”

           “Speaking out of turn is hardly the issue here!” Mr. Phillips exclaims. He quiets suddenly when the principal turns to him, but doesn’t give up. “That is, of course, something that should be worked on, but the concern that we need to focus on is that Charlie corrected a teacher!”

           I shrug my shoulders. I’m done arguing. Mr. Phillips clearly isn’t going to let this go, and Mom isn’t going to drop it without a fight, so why put it off anymore? “You were wrong.”

           I have to stop myself from laughing at the way Mr. Phillips’ mouth opens and closes like a fish that just got pulled out of the water. “That doesn’t matter, Charlie,” he says, finally finding the words to say. “It is not okay to correct an adult, someone in authority. Miss Williams, I don’t think Charlie is a bad kid, but he does have some trouble with authority, which can become serious. I understand the difficulty of teaching him such things on your own. After all, a boy needs his father.”

           I shouldn’t say anything. I should clam up and ignore the comment. But I’ve never been good at shutting up. “I don’t need the man who walked out on us. I don’t need the man who couldn’t own up to his own responsibilities.”

           Mr. Phillips’ face is turning red, and he looks like he’s about to explode, but I don’t regret what I said.

           “Charlie, please.” My mom puts her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down, but it only makes me angrier.

           “No!” I say, standing. “You’ve been there for me my whole life, supporting me, taking care of me. I’m tired of people telling me I need a father! All I need is you.”

           This isn’t the way I imagined it happening, here in this cramped principal’s office, but I’ve been waiting to hear those words from Charlie since the day his father left us. I’ve always known that being a single mom was going to be hard, so I decided a long time ago that I was going to be the best damn mom I could be for this kid. But everywhere we went – every little league game, every birthday party, hell, even every family gathering, I heard the questions and the comments. Where’s his father? Why isn’t his dad around? Don’t you think he should have a man in his life? I was always terrified that I wouldn’t be enough.

           But here we are, in this perfectly imperfect moment, and I find myself suddenly more certain than I’ve ever been in my life that I have been a good mother. I smile widely at Charlie and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Both the principal and the teacher are staring at me like I’ve got three heads, but I don’t care. I’m enough. My son thinks I’m enough.

           I swear everyone in this room is insane! That woman is smiling at her brat like an idiot. Did no one else hear him? Does no one else realize that this boy feels perfectly comfortable talking back to and even yelling at his elders and betters? “Young man, that is enough!” I say, trying to regain what little control I can of the situation. “I will not allow you to speak to me like-”

           “Thank you, Mr. Phillips.” The interruption is so unexpected that I screech to a halt. I stare at Principal Carter with wide eyes. She looks at me sternly, as though she would scold me. “I believe I can deal with this situation with the Williams family on my own. Why don’t you head home for the day?”

           I sit in stunned silence for a moment. She can’t be serious! How can someone in authority allow such blatant disrespect to happen right in front of her! How can she expect me to just get up and leave before resolving this issue? Does she honestly think that it won’t happen again? I open my mouth to argue, but her raised eyebrow stops me. That’s when I realize – in her eyes, I’m in the wrong. Me! I don’t understand it, but the look on her face makes it clear. She’s decided that this whole thing is my fault! Wordlessly, I stand up and make my exit, refusing to look back at any of them.

           Some days, I really hate my job.

           “I’m sorry about that, Ms. Williams, Charlie,” the principal says once the door closes again. “I didn’t realize the whole situation. I think it would be best if we put Charlie in a different English class for the rest of the year. What do you think, Charlie?”

           I raise my head in surprise. The adults in this school rarely ask me what I think, but if she’s giving me the choice, well then, “Yes, please,” I say. “I think that might be best.”

           “I’ll have it arranged, then.” She smiles warmly at me and then looks at Mom. “Ms. Williams, unless you have any other concerns, I think we’re all set.”

           “I think so,” she answers quietly. She’s been looking at me strangely, kind of like the way she looks when she’s watching a really sappy movie.

           We stand up and leave the office and then the school without a word. I follow Mom out to the car and get into the passenger seat. As she starts the car, I decide that I’d rather get this out of the way now rather than wait until later. “Listen, Mom, I’m sorry about all that. I-”

           “Charlie, do you want to go out for ice cream?”

           “What?” Mom’s looking at me with a big smile on her face. I don’t get it. I’m not in trouble? “Sure, Mom.”

           She pats my knee and puts the car in gear. I don’t care what anyone says. Mom and I are just fine on our own.