For the Love of God, Sharon!

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the principal’s chipper voice rang out as the last five teachers filed in.

“It would be a better one if I could go home,” Mr. Brown mumbled to his teammates.

“What, you don’t want to spend an extra half-hour after school hearing things that could have been an email? I’m shocked at your lack of professional enthusiasm.”

“Can it, Eddels,” the team lead, Mrs. Stewart, was grinning despite her rebuke of the younger ELA teacher, “the quicker we sit, the quicker we’re out of here. I have the talent show to set up, a Student Council fundraiser to run, and grades to enter before they’re due next Friday. I don’t have time for dawdling.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Do you think Lisa will let me go early?” Mrs. Rush cut in, her bun falling out as she spoke, “the kids have soccer at seven and I need time to feed them.”

“You have a better chance of winning the lottery.” Mrs. Millard groaned, “Now where will we endure the torture from this month?”

“We’re sitting in the back,” Mr. Brown bolted for the row of seats as far back as the room would allow.

“Agreed,” Miss Eddels followed closely, “I have a mountain of essays to grade, and it will be a miracle if I finish grading them by next Friday, let alone enter the grades in. I need to use every second I have, and it’s tacky to grade while you’re sitting right in front.”

“Tell me about it,” Rush collapsed into a chair, “I knew I should have waited to give them the Integers Unit Test until after the start of next quarter.”

“You all stress me out, I don’t know how you live like this,” Stewart took out a pen, notebook, and the staff handbook while she continued, “I plan every unit based on how much grading time I’ll need before grades are due. Millard does the same thing and is she stressed about grades being due? No.”

“Still annoyed about it.”

“It’s the same cycle every quarter, how can you be annoyed about it?”

“Some things defy explanation,” Millard huffed, “but don’t worry, I make it possible.”

“Ahem,” Lisa began from the front, “now that we’re all seated I think we should get started. 8th grade, it seems like you’re a little far back, it might be easier for you to engage with the rest of us if you were a little closer.”

“We would,” Stewart called out, “but Mr. Brown’s sciatica is acting up and he shouldn’t be moving unnecessarily.”

“Sciatica?!” Brown whispered, “I’m not that old you know.”

“Did you want to move?”

“No.”

“Then can it.”

Millard whispered down the row, “Sciatica is actually quite common in people 30 to 50 years old.”

“You can it, too! Eddels, can you be more subtle grabbing that stack of papers? Lisa’s gonna…”

“A reminder for everyone in attendance,” Lisa’s voice interrupted, “please no grading or planning during staff meetings, we all want to be fully present and engaged!”

“Fuck.” Eddels muttered.

“Also,” the principal continued, “a reminder that all staff meetings are mandatory, and you are required to stay the duration of the meeting.”

“Fuck.” Rush echoed.

“And today, we are going to start with, what I think, is a pretty fun icebreaker!”

“Fuck!” Brown put his head in his hands.

“Yes, Sharon?” Lisa pointed to one of the third grade teachers with her hand raised.

“I’m going to quit,” Brown mumbled.

“Is this going to require much movement? I have a really sore ankle right now, you see, my husband was called into the hospital last night around eight p.m. …”

“That’s another five minutes of our day gone,” Millard rolled her eyes.

“Anyone want in on staff meeting Bingo?” Eddels asked as Lisa answered Sharon’s long- winded query.

“No movement required, Sharon, we’re just going to go around the room and answer two questions: first a fun fact about yourself and second why you continue to teach.”

“My favorite color is yellow,” Mrs. Stewart said when the icebreaker finally got to the 8th grade team, “and I teach because I am passionate about America’s future being educated in civics.”

“I was in the military for two years, hated it,” Brown said reluctantly, “and I’ve been teaching for 25 years, I like talking to kids about books, and I’m five years away from a full pension. If that’s still around by then.”

“At home my hobbies include knitting, scrapbooking, watching horror movies, baking, and listening to heavy metal,” Miss Eddels rattled off, “and I love teaching because the youth is our future and we have a responsibility to share a love of learning with them and prepare them for the realities and expectations of the academic and professional world- the parents certainly aren’t going to do it.”

“I am a mom of three,” Rush said quickly, not looking up from her phone, “and I teach because I like math and kids.”

“My favorite color is green,” Mrs. Millard sighed, “and I teach because middle schoolers are hysterical and science needs to be taught so the next generation understands basic principles of nature.”

“Thank you all for those mostly heartwarming answers!” Lisa beamed, “Now, let’s get into the scheduled items. I know you all are swamped with end-of-quarter grading, so let’s not waste any time…”

“Too late,” five voices whispered in unison.

“... discussing our first of 25 agenda items.”

“25?!” Stewart’s horrified voice carried.

“I know it seems like a lot, but we’ll be done before you know it.”

“Lisa?”

“Yes, Sharon?”

“Is it 25 items total? Or 25 items plus sub-topics?”

“The agenda is being passed around, you can look at it when it gets to you.”

“I’m only asking because based on what we talked about yesterday in your office, I think it would be better to organize…”

“I’m serious this time. I’m going to quit,” Mr. Brown deadpanned.

“Oh, shit. Corey is calling me, his lowlife of a dad probably forgot to pick him up,” Ms. Rush whispered as she bolted from her chair.

“Okay, refocus, people. Miss Eddels please put the papers away, I know you have essays to grade, but I would like to have your full attention.”

“Because putting the papers away will definitely make me give this meeting my full attention,” Eddells muttered under her breath, then said at full volume, “Sorry, Lisa! Won’t happen again.”

“The essays will be out again in 10 minutes, bet,” Millard mumbled to Stewart.

“I give it 5.”

“Jerks,” Eddels whispered, “I’ll remember this the next time I go to Starbucks during prep. No more lattes for you.”

“First up on the agenda is staff matters. Now I’d like to address something that has become a little bit of an issue lately, and I know this might be a bit unpopular…” Lisa’s voice took on an apologetic note, “but a few parents have started to notice certain teachers are leaving on coffee runs multiple times a week during school hours. So we are going to make a concerted effort to limit off-campus trips to once a week.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Brown’s eyes went wide.

“It’s during our prep!” Stewart spoke up, “Why are we letting parents dictate what working professionals do when the kids aren’t in our classes?”

“We aren’t saying you can’t leave, just try and be mindful of what it looks like to parents when they see their child’s teacher is always gone getting coffee.”

“It’s none of their business!” Brown said, “we are adults, and as long as it’s not hurting our professional performance why do they even care?”

“Guys,” Millard whisper-yelled, “there are five days a week, and five of us. Get it together so we can get out of here.”

“You’re right, not the time,” Brown sighed, “thanks.”

“What did I miss?” Rush sat back down with a huff.

“We are limiting off campus trips to once a week because the parents don’t like it,” Stewart rolled her eyes.

“Well, good thing there’s five of us.”

“Next order of staff business I would like to address is professional presentation,” Lisa’s eyes travelled the room and not-so-subtlety landed on Ms. Rush, “we are professional educators who are unfortunately living in a time when our work is being actively deprofessionalized. One of the best ways we can combat that is by ensuring we are presenting ourselves in the most professional manner possible every day. That means having professional appearances, no clothing that looks like pajamas or that look like we’ve worn it five times already.”

“I feel a little called out,” Ms. Rush mumbled, rubbing at a stain on her rumpled shirt.

“It’s alright, you have a lot going on. Who cares what you look like if you’re doing your job well,” Stewart patted her on the back.

“Yeah,” Eddels continued, “it’s not like a pair of well-ironed slacks is going to suddenly convince the population that we aren’t indoctrinating the youth of America. So I say don’t worry about it.”

“Let’s cut the chatter, people!” Lisa looked meaningfully at the back row, “Onto our last topic for staff consideration: the tone we use when sending parent emails.”

“What did you do, Eddels?” Stewart whispered harshly.

“I don’t know why you’re assuming I did anything at all. I’m completely innocent.”

“One of our most active parents recently forwarded me an email exchange they had with a teacher in which the teacher referred to the parent’s complaint as a *quote* frivolous waste of precious time *unquote*.”

“I’m mostly innocent.”

“You sent that to a parent?!” Stewart facepalmed.

“I was having a rough day.”

“Needless to say,” Lisa went on, “no matter how inane our parents' requests or complaints are, we need to remember they are our clients and, again, we are trying to maintain professionalism in all aspects of our operations. Even if, for example, a parent complains their child is doing too much writing in a writing class.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Even said they didn’t understand why I was so insistent that they needed to write complete sentences in an essay.”

“I rescind my incredulity.”

“Yes, Sharon?”

“When it comes to emailing parents, I just want to make sure this email I sent last week meets standards, it reads, Good Morning Mrs. …”

“I’m done. I’m quitting for real this time,” Mr. Brown groaned.

“I’m so close to Bingo,” Millard whispered.

“That sounds just fine, Sharon, I’m constantly impressed by your professionalism.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Now, back to the next agenda item, we have a little quarterly grade change, which, I am anticipating won’t be received very well, and I will apologize ahead of time. This wasn’t my decision, it’s coming from higher ups…”

“Yikes, what could possibly be that bad?” Rush asked.

“As of now, quarterly gradebooks must be finalized by this coming Monday, the thirteenth.”

“What?! How am I supposed to get the fundraiser, talent show, and grades done?”

“I guess their Integer test isn’t going in until quarter 2.”

“This is bullshit.”

“I’m going to quit.”

“Do you think if I pulled out one essay at a time she’d notice?”

“Alright. Alright. Calm down everyone,” Lisa’s voice cut through the rabble, “I know this is a shock, but you have the weekend, and I will do my best to accommodate individual needs if I can.”

“I think I’m going to puke all over Jordan’s essay.”

“She has to be joking, right?” Stewart looked a little green as well.

“Yes, Sharon?”

“So, I’ve already posted my quarter one grades, but I just want to make sure…”

“I don’t care about my pension anymore. I’m seriously going to leave this job,” Mr. Brown was slumped over in his seat.

“You know, sitting like that probably isn’t good for your sciatica,” Mrs. Millard pointed out.

“Millard, I don’t actually have sciatica.”

“Sharon, that is fine, the actual process of posting grades hasn’t changed, so you won’t have to do it again.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Okay, now that we have all had time to process the change, let’s move on, and, as a reminder, the quicker we get through these agenda items, the quicker you can get home and get grading! Miss Eddels, please put the essays away!”

“Technically it’s only one,” the English teacher muttered, but slowly put the essay under the chair as Lisa continued down the list of agenda items.

“Oh my lord, it’s been over an hour!” Rush groaned, Brown snored in response.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there, I’ve been checking them off,” Steward waved her pen.

“How many left?”

“One more, and it’s just questions and clarifications, so if nobody says anything then we are out of here!”

“Finally!” Millard breathed out.

“Alright, people,” Lisa’s voice picked back up.

“How does she stay so chipper even though we’ve been here an hour and a half?” Eddels said incredulously.

“I think she shotguns a Red Bull before she starts the meetings,” Millard chuckled.

“...you all have been so patient and I know we are eager to get out of here. So does anyone have any questions or clarifications of policy changes before I let you all go?”

“Please, please, please, please, please…” Eddels had a grip on her packed-up bag.

“Pleeeeeaaasssseee!” Rush was poised with both feet facing the door.

“Please,” Millard had her hands folded in prayer.

“I’m begging for this to be it, please, God,” Stewart’s notebook was stowed.

“Please tell me it’s over?” Brown’s groggy voice whispered, and there was a beat of silence as the entire room waited with baited breath for the okay to leave.

“Okay it doesn’t look like there is anything… oh, wait.”

“Nononononononononono…”

“It can’t be.”

“Please tell me it’s not…”

“Yes, Sharon?”

“Yeah, so I just had a few more questions about the grade positing situation….”

“I quit.”