March

[This is fiction, but it shows many real stresses teachers face every day. None of the issues are exaggerated.]

Amanda glowered. She stared ahead at the green piece of paper on the wall, adorned with the meme of a glamorous woman in oversized sunglasses, hiding her face from a group of paparazzi. The caption – You could’ve been a movie star! If it was ever funny, it’d lost its charm. With its bent, frayed corners, it added to the dull dreariness of her surroundings – the only decoration in a stuffy, windowless room with antique yellow walls – souring her mood further.

Behind her, the original source of her day’s angst, a copy machine with a piece of paper reading Out of service. Repair scheduled for next Wednesday taped on. It was Tuesday. She sighed, head in her hands, rage-staring at the stupid meme on the wall, waiting for the clock to say it was time to go.

She glanced at her phone, tapping the screen, hoping that by some miracle she had a bar or two so she could untether from the school’s controlled wi-fi. No such luck. She shoved the phone aside and put her head down directly onto the table with a dull thud. You deserve this, she thought, hoping the pain would distract her from this all-consuming anxiety.

She heard the door handle click and, panicked, picked up her head, shuffling a stack of papers in front of her, trying to look busy. When she saw it was Diana, she relaxed and smiled, a forced look of happiness as effective as putting a poster over a gaping hole in a wall. Diana chuckled. “Nice spot.” She pointed to her own forehead.

Amanda looked cross-eyed at the top of her nose and then shook her head, feeling stupid. “Tell me you had a miserable day, too.”

“If it makes you feel better, sure. It was awful.” She’d been making her way to the copier when she saw the sign. “Well, that sucks.” Amanda’s brow raised and she nodded cartoonishly. Diana laughed again, dropping a stack of papers on the table across from Amanda and pulling up a chair. She leaned back lackadaisically. “Wanna talk about it?”

Amanda shrugged. “I want to rip that paper off the wall and eat it.”

Diana turned around, and glanced at the green paper. “You know who put that there?” She asked. Amanda shook her head. “Max Turner.”

Amanda huffed. “All right.”

“No, really. He used to be pretty fun.”

“And then what?”

“Then they fired his best friend.”

“Uh-huh,” replied Amanda. “Don’t let them fire you, please.”

Diana smirked. “Please. I’m tenured. Although so was Billy Hawk. And he was popular. Not me, though. Maybe I’m not as safe as I thought!” Amanda shook her head and dropped it onto the table again. “Oh, come on, Amanda. What’s wrong?”

“All of it.”

“All of what?”

“All of the everything.”

“Start from the beginning.”

Amanda sighed heavily and picked up her head. She turned to the copier. “I had a test to give today – haven’t had a chance to copy it yet. I planned on running them this morning; I even got here early. Then I come in and this –” She flung her pen and watched it bounce ineffectually off the copier and onto the ground. “This busted up piece of trash decided it wasn’t gonna work. And, of course, by the time I figured out there’s no saving it, every other copier in the whole building was occupied.”

“What period was it for?”

“First! And I had nothing else to do. Literally. So, I tried to play it off to the kids. I was like, Hey! I’m feeling generous, so you can have another day to study for the test. Of course, they did nothing, so I spent the whole first hour of the day trying to tell them not to hit each other or arm wrestle or swear loud enough for the whole hall to hear. Which didn’t work, obviously. Because why would it?” Amanda crossed her arms and sank deeper into her chair. “I hate that class,” she moped.

“I know,” replied Diana. “They suck. Hard.”

“And, like, I get that they’re teenagers. I get they can’t see past five feet in front of their face, or their phones! But, I mean, acknowledge me!” Amanda pounded her open palm against her chest. “I’m an adult! I’m an authority figure! I’m in charge of your grade!”

“Which they don’t care about.”

“I know! I know.” Amanda took a deep breath. Gently, she laid her hands on the table. “Sorry,” she said. “I know you know.”

“You’re venting,” Diana replied.

“I know. But I feel like I’m always venting. I wish I was more, like, buddha, like you are.”

“Buddha?” Diana guffawed. “What’re you saying, Fitzherbert?”

“No, not like that,” Amanda backpedaled. A smile spread across her face, authentic. For the first time all day she felt some levity. “I mean, like, zen. You know? Nothing seems to bother you. You never complain. You never really vent.”

“I work down in the gym,” Diana replied, a look of mischief spreading across her face. “If a bitch gets lippy in health class, I’ve got dodgeballs in the gym that I can ‘accidentally’ throw too hard at them.”

Amanda smirked, “Should’ve been a gym teacher.”

“Nah. Everybody laughs at you.”

“Because you’re funny.”

Diana shrugged, crossing her arms. “You said it, not me.” Her tone, posture, her overall demeanor, lifted Amanda’s spirits. It always happened like this – Amanda would find herself sinking into a puddle of despair and Diana would magically show up to make things better. It wouldn’t be hyperbolic to say that Diana saved Amanda’s sanity on more than one occasion. She was like an antidote to misery, and she might’ve been the only thing keeping Amanda from quitting and living the rest of her life curled up in a ball under her covers. “So, what else happened? One bad class can’t ruin your whole day, can it?”

“Oh, right. You ready for this?” Amanda sat up and leaned forward. “So, my next class wasn’t too bad, but it’s the one with Damon in it.” Diana rolled her eyes and Amanda nodded. “Exactly. Well, he wasn’t doing any work – shocker, I know – and he kept bugging his ex.”

“Who’s that?”

“Brittany Jermanico.”

“Seriously! What’s a cute kid like that want with such an entitled dickhead.”

“I know.” Why anybody would be attracted to any high school boy was beyond Amanda’s comprehension. She shook her head. That wasn’t the point. “Anyway, I kept telling him to leave her alone and he just wouldn’t listen. So, finally, I told him that if he wasn’t doing his work, he needed to go to ISS. Know what he said to me? He was like, Miss F, the next time social media says there’s gonna be a school shooting day, I’m gonna make sure your classroom gets hit first.”

Diana gasped. “Shut. Up.”

Amanda nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. He just walked out. So, I called the office to let them know he was supposed to be heading down to ISS. Nobody picked up. I tried three times. So, I sent off an email to Brad. I told him about how Damon was literally harassing Brit and how he said what he said to me. I told him that Damon’s made other threatening, racist, sexist remarks like that in the past and how, honestly, I really don’t feel safe around the kid.

“About an hour later he comes up and he’s like, Hey, Amanda. I read your email. This is the first I’m hearing of any behavioral issues with this kid.”

Diana rolled her eyes again. “Lies. That kid’s in ISS more than he’s in class. Classic administrative deflection.”

“And then he said, I talked to him in my office, and he said he was just kidding. I really don’t think he’s a threat.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“The truth. I told him about how Damon is constantly provoking other kids, he can’t keep his hands to himself. There’ve been several complaints about this kid touching girls inappropriately and claiming it was an accident – including female teachers. I was like, Dude. This kid is trouble, and he needs help. Somewhere else.”

“And?”

“He basically told me I was being dramatic.”

Diana sighed. “You talk to the union?”

Amanda nodded. “About twenty minutes ago, at the top of my prep. They told me that the law is that Damon needs to be in a regular ed classroom as much as possible. And, since I’m the only teacher who teaches lower-level algebra, there’s no other place for him to go. I’m stuck.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, did you mention the safety concerns? The touching?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Amanda replied. “It’s hearsay. Without it on camera, it’s the kid’s word versus mine. And they said it would be ‘too much trouble to pursue an investigation.’”

“Unbelievable,” said Diana. She shook her head. “Sorry, Amanda. If he was in gym or played a sport, I’d dole out some serious punishment for you.”

Amanda shrugged. “He’ll be back in class tomorrow,” she said. “And I’ll have to pretend like nothing ever happened. But that’s not even the worst of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, later on, like right after lunch, I’m in the middle of teaching and some random kid waltzes into my room because she had to say hi to her friend. I told her to get out and she just straight up ignored me. Then another girl in my class was like, Hey, bitch. Miss F told you to get out. And then they start arguing. Loudly. So, I get between them and try to usher this other girl out.”

“What happened?”

“She pushed me. I go toppling over a desk and then these girls start going at it. So, I scramble up and I start calling the office and nobody is picking up. Hair is literally flying everywhere. I scream at a kid to run to the office – thank God it was my honors class and I could trust the kid – and then I just try to get the other kids out the way.”

“They must’ve been filming it.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And I told them that if they didn’t put the phones away, I’d write them up and give them a detention.”

“Good.”

“And so these girls are wailing on each other and I can’t do anything to intervene except keep the other kids from getting involved. Eventually, the girl who came in slammed the girl in my class’s head on the ground, spit on her, and then left. And of course, she had to call me a stupid bitch on her way out.”

“Jesus. Was she okay?”

“The girl in my class?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. I heard she got a concussion, but that was just a student rumor.”

“What happened to the other girl?”

“She left school. They can’t find her.”

“She’ll get ten days OSS.”

“They should arrest her.”

Diana shrugged. “Should. Won’t.”

Amanda’s eye grew hot. “Brad didn’t even get to my class for another five minutes after the fight ended,” she said. “Apparently, he was in a meeting and had turned his walkie-talkie down too much. And…” She tried to fight back the tears, but they stung too much. She sniffled, and then broke down. “And he blamed me for the fight and for Damon and said that if somebody pressed charges against the school for either, they’d fire me.” Amanda dropped her head to the table again, weeping into it, her body shaking with every sob.

“Oh, honey.” Diana got up and moved over next to Amanda. She stroked her back. “It’s okay,” she said. “Let it out.”

“It’s like we get blamed for everything,” Amanda whimpered. “And-And they don’t back us up or enforce any rules and then an innocent kid gets hurt – I get hurt! I slammed my shoulder when this other kid sh-shoved me over the desk – and w-we get blamed for it.”

Diana smiled warmly, but there was clear bitterness in her voice, an edge earned after years of jaded disappointment. “I know how you feel,” she soothed. Diana’s rhythmic strokes on Amanda’s back provided some small semblance of relief. It didn’t reduce the effects of the mental whiplash the day had wrought, but it made Amanda feel valued, and it pulled her back from the edge of utter anguish. “It’s March,” Diana continued. “It’s not your first year, but it takes a while to really understand how miserable March can be for teachers – no days off, stuck inside, everybody’s antsy. It breaks the best of us.”

“It’s been all y-year,” Amanda replied. “I have one good class and the rest are j-just a dumping ground. And the kids d-don’t care about their grades because they get 50’s even if they don’t do anything.” Amanda took a deep, shaky breath and lifted her head up, still staring down at the table. Diana continued stroking her back. “And when I have half of my students failing because they aren’t turning in their work, even if I sit on top of them and call home over and over, Brad tells me I’m not doing my job. What else can I do, asshole!”

“Point taken,” Diana smirked. “But Brad is just a phase – but he won’t be here forever. He’s shoring up his resume so he can become a superintendent somewhere. People like him teach for like three years, become an AP, then a principal, then a super. They’re incapable little pissants who push out initiatives just so they can put a feather in their cap – whether or not they work isn’t the point.”

“I believe it,” Amanda replied, scornfully.

“Did you tell the union about him threatening you?”

Amanda nodded. “They said since I’m not tenured, there’s not much they can do.”

“There’s plenty they can do,” Diana said. “That’s clearly intimidation and negligence on his part. Tell them you want to grieve it. If they tell you you can’t, tell them you’re going to anyway.”

“You should be a rep.”

“I was,” Diana replied. “So, if you want, I can knock their stupid heads in. Their job is more than just contract negotiations once every five years.”

“It’s all right,” Amanda said. “I’ll tell them.”

“Good.” Diana slapped her back. “Maybe we can change the subject. How’s your New Teacher paper going?”

“When I get time between my grad class assignments, it’s going fine. That’s the least of my worries.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I can handle myself as a student,” she said. “Papers aren’t a big deal.”

“Because you’re a professional,” Diana said. “And you should be treated like one.”

Amanda smiled bitterly, nodding. “Thanks, Di.”

Diana grabbed Amanda’s chin and turned her so they could look in each other’s eyes. “You matter. Remember that.” Diana tapped her own temple. “Starts up here. Keep that thought locked in. And when you leave here today, let all the nonsense that went on, all the things that make you think you don’t matter, just drip out your ears like water. Trust, you can be a committed educator without devoting your life to your job.”

“Easier said than done.”

“That’s the difference between new teachers and grizzled vets like me,” Diana said. “Takes less time to let the stupidity go. Once the doors to the parking lot close behind me, I’m not Miss Di anymore.” Amanda sighed, her expression downtrodden. Her weariness was evident, like someone coming out of a PTSD flashback. “Hey,” Diana squeezed her shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Amanda. You don’t deserve the abuse. If you don’t think it’s worth sticking around for, some other profession would be lucky to have you – and schools would be worse off for the loss. But it does get easier. You learn to find the things that matter most and keep you coming in the door, even with all the foolishness that happens around them.”

Amanda looked at her friend. “What about for you?”

“It depends on the day,” she said. “I mean, some days I come in and I think to myself, You’re stuck, Di. You’re doing nothing important and you have no skills to go anywhere else. And then other days I see the light – you approach something the right way and all of a sudden, these ignorant, self-absorbed dinguses come to life and treat each other with dignity. And you go, Damn. I did that. And there’s hope. It’s small, usually temporary, but it’s there, and it keeps the passion you started with alive just a little longer.”

Amanda dabbed the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath. She glanced up at the meme on the wall again. You could’ve been a movie star! Then she thought, But you chose something that’s demeaning, low paying, and undervalued…but needed. It still wasn’t funny, and she knew she was adding meaning to something that was supposed to catch your attention for only a second, yet she felt lifted. “Thanks, Di,” she said.

“Any time, Amanda,” she replied. “Now watch this superpower: time to go home…now!” As soon as she said it, the digital tone of the bell blared over the loudspeaker, calling an end to the day, and the week. They could hear he kids filing out, buzzing excitedly, loud, happy.

“You’re uncanny,” Amanda joked.

“Years on years of experience,” Diana replied. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s blow this staff room and start our weekend with a couple of drinks.”

Amanda smiled. “All right,” she said. “I like that idea.” Together they rose and started toward the door. None of her problems were solved – but right now they didn’t need to be. Life was seldom so neat. She looked at her friend, grateful. If she had to weather a storm, it was nice to know she didn’t weather it alone.