It was the summer before my senior year when I first remember becoming fully aware of my dialect. I was working at Walmart. It was an old-school Walmart. Closed at 9pm, still had a hyphen in the name, and the cashiers did everything from stock soda to straighten shelves.
At the end of each closing shift we were all told to go "face" the shelves and were not allowed to clock out until the manager had done his walk-through to be sure everything was in order. This was the time when my friend Levi, a stock-boy, and I would meet up in the toy department or cosmetics and chat about our days.
Levi and I had been going to school together for just a couple of years, but we had a lot of classes together and he became one of my great "school friends." You know. We didn't talk on the phone or really hang out in "real life," (this was the pre-texting, pre-Facebook era), but we were buddies at school, and at work.
Levi wore wranglers every day. He lived on a farm. He liked horses. He said things like "ain't" and listened to country music. He was about as country as they come at WHS. At that time I considered myself to be more of a "townie." Sure I indulged in country once in a while, when my windows were up or when I was home alone. I wore clothes from Maurices. I wore Dr. Martens.
Anyway. Back to the straightening. As we were doing so, we were discussing the fair and the country music singers. I told him that if I was going to go see anyone, I'd want to go see Faith Hill.
Levi BUSTED up laughing. He was doubling over.
"What's so funny?" I asked him.
"Say it again!" he said between laughs.
"Say what?"
"Faith Hill!"
"Faith Hill," I said, unamused. Laughter again. When he finally composed himself, he explained what he heard.
"Andrea, it's Hill. Hih-lllllll. Not Heuhl. Hiiiiillllll."
"Heeeeh iiiihl" I said slowly. He laughed. And for the entire following school year he would randomly walk up to me and say "Faith Hill," then start laughing. The cowboy. was mocking. MY. accent.
It began to disturb me. As I paid more attention to myself and watched some old home videos, I realized just how strong my accent was. And it wasn't strong like a cute Southern Belle. It was strong like Debutante meets Beverly Hillbilly with a touch of Darlene Connor. I remember sitting in English class thinking, "I'll never have a second date in college if I keep this up."
And so I made a concentrated effort to begin correcting myself. I looked closely at how words are spelled. I had only learned by LISTENING, not by deciphering. I never knew that "pin" and "pen" had different pronunciations. I just thought they were spelled differently. I guess that's probably when my true grammar flair started.
I did a good job. I worked hard and although I didn't remove my accent, I changed the way I spoke. As the years went by, and I became an English major, I started trying even harder. I was surrounded by proper grammar and speech.
I began teaching, and that meant making even more of an effort to understand words and language and to use them correctly. I had been failed by poor models in my life, so if I could at least speak as well as I wrote, I could model good grammar for my students.
Day in and day out I studied my lessons. Taught the same concept three to five times a day. Graded papers. Corrected misuse. I started to not only speak well, but to speak correctly. I started using phrases like, "for which," and "to whom," and I learned the difference between subjective and objective forms (I vs. me) and when it's right to use them. My speech became as perfect as my writing.
And then I quit.
I quit teaching, that is. I traded in my grade-books and red (actually purple) pens, my early alarm and my khaki pants for boots and jeans and a farm-wife life. I started sleeping in. I started working at home. I rode around with my farmer hubby all day checking cows and hauling hay. I moved to a farming community, full of boot-wearing, country music-listening, tractor-driving farmers. I love to listen to my hubby talk. I think he has the cutest accent, and it kind of comes with the territory down here. But it's not something I would pick up.
Right?
Before I knew it, I started to notice a change.
It was first when Chloe said "ain't," and I corrected her, and began to worry that she'd picked up the bad habit at school. (Yes, I got more irritated with her learning "ain't" at school than the day she called the dog a bitch haha).
Then the other night, hubby asked me what I had.
And I said.
"It ain't nothin', babe. Don't worry 'bout it."
And he laughed. The farm guy in his Levi's and boots laughed at how I was talking.
Just like Levi.
And I realized I have come full-circle. This little dialect demon that I thought I had overcome had reared his ugly head once again. I've realized that what I hear on a day-to-day basis affects me so much more than what I KNOW. And without daily practice and dedication, I quickly fall back to my old habits. Anyone know of an exorcist for speech and grammar demons? :)
At least I can still write well :)
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Boys of Fall
The other night my brother-in-law said something that got me thinking (this doesn't happen a lot, so mark it down hehe). He said, "I wish we'd had football in high school..."
And I started thinking about how strange of an idea that was. For me, football was a staple in high school. It wove in and out of everything. It was a huge part of our school. Our community. Our lives. To take football out of high school, for me, would be to take a huge chunk out of my life.
I wasn't a cheer-leader. I didn't date the quarterback. I was your run-of-the-mill average Jane doing her best to make it through the teen years. But football wasn't just for jocks or pretty girls. It was for everyone.
In junior high it was a time to socialize. We couldn't drive, and we all found ourselves at the game on Friday night. It's where we whispered to our friends, ran around the track, followed the boys we liked, giggled, ate popcorn, and had fun.
When we got to high school, though, everything changed. Suddenly those boys we liked were on the field, looking tough and handsome in their pads and uniforms. Even the dweebiest guy on the team looked, well, like a football player.
Games became a time of excitement. Watching the guys from our class take hits, score points, and tackle the other team. Hearing the huge crowd cheer for those guys who sat with us in math, who took us out on dates, who danced with us at school dances. They were heroes.
The season started with hot summer nights, kicking off when the sun was still up. But by the second home game it was "football weather." We wore our school hoodies. It was just before dark when the boys kicked off. The air was crisp, and the lights were bright. By the end of the season it was dark before the game even started. We huddled close together under blankets, clutching hand-warmers and sipping hot chocolate. Cold to the bone by the end of the game, but always jumping up to cheer when one of our boys crossed into the end-zone.
Fridays at school were like holidays during football season. There was that thrill in the air. That feeling that something exciting was brewing. The boys all wore their jerseys to school. We talked about who we would play, what time we would arrive, and who was starting. Teachers rarely gave weekend assignments (though there were the few sticklers), and we talked all day about what we were going to do after the game. It was usually Sonic runs and sleep-overs.
There were pep rallies in the afternoon before a big game, and for homecoming. We spent the whole week before homecoming completely engrossed in everything football. We decorated the halls, the doors, our cars. We had bonfires and chili suppers. We made up skits and dances and cheers. We dressed funny every day. Painted our faces. It was one of the biggest events of the year.
By the time football season was over, it was time for Thanksgiving and holidays. Basketball started, and it was a whole new dynamic. While it was 'just a sport' to some, for most of us, football defined fall. And I can't imagine a fall without it as a student.
And I started thinking about how strange of an idea that was. For me, football was a staple in high school. It wove in and out of everything. It was a huge part of our school. Our community. Our lives. To take football out of high school, for me, would be to take a huge chunk out of my life.
I wasn't a cheer-leader. I didn't date the quarterback. I was your run-of-the-mill average Jane doing her best to make it through the teen years. But football wasn't just for jocks or pretty girls. It was for everyone.
In junior high it was a time to socialize. We couldn't drive, and we all found ourselves at the game on Friday night. It's where we whispered to our friends, ran around the track, followed the boys we liked, giggled, ate popcorn, and had fun.
When we got to high school, though, everything changed. Suddenly those boys we liked were on the field, looking tough and handsome in their pads and uniforms. Even the dweebiest guy on the team looked, well, like a football player.
Games became a time of excitement. Watching the guys from our class take hits, score points, and tackle the other team. Hearing the huge crowd cheer for those guys who sat with us in math, who took us out on dates, who danced with us at school dances. They were heroes.
The season started with hot summer nights, kicking off when the sun was still up. But by the second home game it was "football weather." We wore our school hoodies. It was just before dark when the boys kicked off. The air was crisp, and the lights were bright. By the end of the season it was dark before the game even started. We huddled close together under blankets, clutching hand-warmers and sipping hot chocolate. Cold to the bone by the end of the game, but always jumping up to cheer when one of our boys crossed into the end-zone.
Fridays at school were like holidays during football season. There was that thrill in the air. That feeling that something exciting was brewing. The boys all wore their jerseys to school. We talked about who we would play, what time we would arrive, and who was starting. Teachers rarely gave weekend assignments (though there were the few sticklers), and we talked all day about what we were going to do after the game. It was usually Sonic runs and sleep-overs.
There were pep rallies in the afternoon before a big game, and for homecoming. We spent the whole week before homecoming completely engrossed in everything football. We decorated the halls, the doors, our cars. We had bonfires and chili suppers. We made up skits and dances and cheers. We dressed funny every day. Painted our faces. It was one of the biggest events of the year.
By the time football season was over, it was time for Thanksgiving and holidays. Basketball started, and it was a whole new dynamic. While it was 'just a sport' to some, for most of us, football defined fall. And I can't imagine a fall without it as a student.
Friday, September 30, 2011
TGIF!
'Tis Friday again. Thank goodness! I didn't think this week would EVER end! Pregnancy weeks go by soooooo slooooowly anyway, but when you're spending as much time with the Porcelain God as you are with your family, it tends to make it go even mooooooooooore slooooooooooowly. Bleh!
Anyway, to pass the time, how about five questions?
1. Do you apologize to your kids if you're wrong?
I believe we have discussed this before, but yes. If I'm in the wrong, I apologize to little Chloshmo. She is very sensitive, and gets her feelings hurt very easily, and she will let me know if she thinks an apology is in order ;) But by admitting when I'm wrong and apologizing, I hope to instill in her the tendency to do the same. She is a little guilty of playing the blame game, and we're trying to stop that. For example, if she was running in the house, tripped, and broke my expensive vase (should I have one), rather than saying, "Sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn't have been running," she might argue that it's not her fault because I didn't sweep the floor today and the dust caused her to slip. She can be somewhat outrageous, but we're learning.
2. Do you have a class ring, Letterman's jacket, or similar obscenely priced high school "must have"?
To have a letterman's jacket, one must "letter" in something. This mama not so athletic. I'm very tall, and was always prodded to play basketball, but that requires coordination, which I have not. So after a terribly failed attempt in 8th grade, everyone finally gave up on that.
I did letter in academics...........and I had some math club medals..........ok, so you get it now, right? Why I didn't buy the jacket ;)
I did, however, get a class ring. And they saw me comin' they did. If I'm going to have this beautiful heirloom and treasure it for a lifetime, I'm getting the real deal. Gold. Yellow gold. 10k. And those tiny diamonds on the side? NO CZs for me! No no no. And I want my name engraved in it. Not just my name, but my signature.
Mama broke the bank paying for that ring.
And now it sits in my jewelry box, absolutely no refelction of who I was, or who I am. Merely a big gold ring (not one of those new style ones that looks like a pretty girl's ring, no no) with an ugly green stone (It HAS to be the school color!) that I've considered hocking for the gold in desperate times, but was thwarted only by the echoing of the Josten's man's words, "A precious heirloom you'll cherish for years to come...."
I guess I'll wait 'til I'm dead and let my grandkids hock it for a new cell phone or something =/
Other things I got suckered on: Senior pictures, senior book/t-shirt/keyring/key/boxers/invitations/thank you cards/name cards/everythingunderthesun
3. If you could be one age for the rest of your life, what age would you choose?
I used to say forever 21, but really I like 27. I'm not sure why. I think because it's kinda old enough to know better but still too young to care. Old enough to be responsible, be "grown-up" but young enough you can still be "young" when you want to.
But really I'd take anything under 30 and over 21.
4. What is your favorite (unused) baby name?
I can't tell you that.
Because the lil Bebe in my belly has not been named. The Mister and I have not discussed it, and don't plan to until we know the gender.
But, don't tell anyone this.....Mama already has her mind made up :) She just has to figure out how to plant the ideas in Daddy's head so he thinks *HE* thought of them. Hehehehehehehe.
So. Sorry, world. You no get to know Mama's favorite baby name...because it just might be used soon.
As a kid I always liked the names Kelli and Stephanie (I watched Saved by the Bell and Full House btw) for girls.
If Chloe was a boy I was going to name her Brady (odd coincidence...Chloe and Brady on Days of Our Lives)
But none of those names are in danger of being used anytime soon, so the secret is still safe ;)
5. If you could make your child like something what would it be?
Vegetables. All of them. Potatoes. Carrots. Green beans. Peas. Peas and carrots.
And organizing.
If only....
Anyway, to pass the time, how about five questions?
1. Do you apologize to your kids if you're wrong?
I believe we have discussed this before, but yes. If I'm in the wrong, I apologize to little Chloshmo. She is very sensitive, and gets her feelings hurt very easily, and she will let me know if she thinks an apology is in order ;) But by admitting when I'm wrong and apologizing, I hope to instill in her the tendency to do the same. She is a little guilty of playing the blame game, and we're trying to stop that. For example, if she was running in the house, tripped, and broke my expensive vase (should I have one), rather than saying, "Sorry, Mom. I know I shouldn't have been running," she might argue that it's not her fault because I didn't sweep the floor today and the dust caused her to slip. She can be somewhat outrageous, but we're learning.
2. Do you have a class ring, Letterman's jacket, or similar obscenely priced high school "must have"?
To have a letterman's jacket, one must "letter" in something. This mama not so athletic. I'm very tall, and was always prodded to play basketball, but that requires coordination, which I have not. So after a terribly failed attempt in 8th grade, everyone finally gave up on that.
I did letter in academics...........and I had some math club medals..........ok, so you get it now, right? Why I didn't buy the jacket ;)
I did, however, get a class ring. And they saw me comin' they did. If I'm going to have this beautiful heirloom and treasure it for a lifetime, I'm getting the real deal. Gold. Yellow gold. 10k. And those tiny diamonds on the side? NO CZs for me! No no no. And I want my name engraved in it. Not just my name, but my signature.
Mama broke the bank paying for that ring.
And now it sits in my jewelry box, absolutely no refelction of who I was, or who I am. Merely a big gold ring (not one of those new style ones that looks like a pretty girl's ring, no no) with an ugly green stone (It HAS to be the school color!) that I've considered hocking for the gold in desperate times, but was thwarted only by the echoing of the Josten's man's words, "A precious heirloom you'll cherish for years to come...."
I guess I'll wait 'til I'm dead and let my grandkids hock it for a new cell phone or something =/
Other things I got suckered on: Senior pictures, senior book/t-shirt/keyring/key/boxers/invitations/thank you cards/name cards/everythingunderthesun
3. If you could be one age for the rest of your life, what age would you choose?
I used to say forever 21, but really I like 27. I'm not sure why. I think because it's kinda old enough to know better but still too young to care. Old enough to be responsible, be "grown-up" but young enough you can still be "young" when you want to.
But really I'd take anything under 30 and over 21.
4. What is your favorite (unused) baby name?
I can't tell you that.
Because the lil Bebe in my belly has not been named. The Mister and I have not discussed it, and don't plan to until we know the gender.
But, don't tell anyone this.....Mama already has her mind made up :) She just has to figure out how to plant the ideas in Daddy's head so he thinks *HE* thought of them. Hehehehehehehe.
So. Sorry, world. You no get to know Mama's favorite baby name...because it just might be used soon.
As a kid I always liked the names Kelli and Stephanie (I watched Saved by the Bell and Full House btw) for girls.
If Chloe was a boy I was going to name her Brady (odd coincidence...Chloe and Brady on Days of Our Lives)
But none of those names are in danger of being used anytime soon, so the secret is still safe ;)
5. If you could make your child like something what would it be?
Vegetables. All of them. Potatoes. Carrots. Green beans. Peas. Peas and carrots.
And organizing.
If only....
Thursday, July 7, 2011
One, two Buckle my shoe...
It was January 16th, 1999. I had a fist-full of money and a full tank of gas (that cost me 10.00 btw) and I was on a mission. I had tossed the idea around in my head for a while, but now I knew what I had to do. I started up my Escort and hit the gas. I drove the 32 miles to the nearest Buckle. I parked out front, stuffed the cash in my pocket, and walked in the front door.
I wasn't prepared for what was about to happen.
I'd shopped at Maurices next-door since it opened. The Buckle had always been out of my price range, but I hadn't minded. I liked the clothes I found at Maurices. The sales ladies were helpful and made me feel comfortable.
As soon as I heard the bell ding when I opened the Buckle door I knew I was in another world. A toned, tan college-age guy greeted me with his sparkling smile.
"Hey there!" he said, as if he knew me already. I looked over my shoulder, unsure if he was talking to me.
"Hey," I said quietly.
Before I knew it he was holding me hostage in a dressing room tossing me Lucky jeans and shirts that were two sizes too small for my tall, lanky frame. All the while assuring me that color was *perfect* with my eyes, or that shirt flattered my body type. He flashed his pearly whites at me and nodded his head. I was more uncomfortable than I'd ever been, and wasn't sure how I was going to explain to him that I didnt' want any of it.
Quickly I checked the price on the jeans. Maybe they *did* make my butt look amazing. Nope. $95.00 was way out of my price range. I had 160.00 cash and I was going to need almost every penny.
"What do you want me to take to the register?" he pushed. I hated to tell him no, but I had no choice financially if I was going to complete my mission.
"Um, I don't think any of that is going to work for me today. I actually came in to look at shoes," I confessed, wrinkling up my nose.
"OK, cool. They're right over here. Let me know if you need a certain size," he said. I was afraid he'd follow me and try to take my shoes off for me, but he made his way back to the counter.
I saw them immediately. I'd coveted them for more than a month, and it was finally my time. I searched for an 8 in the style I liked and slipped them off the shelf. I was already familiar with the European sizes and didn't need a minute to try them on. Heck I'd been test-driving them for two-weeks.
I guess that's what started my obsession. For some reason I borrowed my friend's brother's Dr. Martens to wear to a basketball game one night. It was like test-driving a Porsche. A bad move on my part.
I never really bought into that whole idea that people liked you for your clothes. Boy was I wrong. I hadn't been donning the Docs for fifteen minutes when Mister Right-Now plopped down beside me.
"Nice Docs," he said sincerely.
"Thanks," I smiled back.
"They look good on ya." He clicked his tongue and moved over with his buddies. And I was sold.
He LIKED my shoes! They looked GOOD on me! I HAD to have those shoes. I had to.
I pulled the whole "I forgot" gig with the shoes for two weeks to buy me some time, and as soon as my birthday rolled around I returned them and made plans to purchase my own.
I never got the whole "new shoe" effect. No one noticed them because I'd been wearing them for two weeks. I couldn't brag about them, because I'd played the borrowed set as my own. I just went back to wearing them. Every day. I loved them like I've never loved a pair of shoes.
Twelve years later, I still have them. They're still in excellent shape, and they are the one pair of shoes I can fully justify spending that kind of money on.
If only they were still in style......well....in style for someone other than construction workers....
I wasn't prepared for what was about to happen.
I'd shopped at Maurices next-door since it opened. The Buckle had always been out of my price range, but I hadn't minded. I liked the clothes I found at Maurices. The sales ladies were helpful and made me feel comfortable.
As soon as I heard the bell ding when I opened the Buckle door I knew I was in another world. A toned, tan college-age guy greeted me with his sparkling smile.
"Hey there!" he said, as if he knew me already. I looked over my shoulder, unsure if he was talking to me.
"Hey," I said quietly.
Before I knew it he was holding me hostage in a dressing room tossing me Lucky jeans and shirts that were two sizes too small for my tall, lanky frame. All the while assuring me that color was *perfect* with my eyes, or that shirt flattered my body type. He flashed his pearly whites at me and nodded his head. I was more uncomfortable than I'd ever been, and wasn't sure how I was going to explain to him that I didnt' want any of it.
Quickly I checked the price on the jeans. Maybe they *did* make my butt look amazing. Nope. $95.00 was way out of my price range. I had 160.00 cash and I was going to need almost every penny.
"What do you want me to take to the register?" he pushed. I hated to tell him no, but I had no choice financially if I was going to complete my mission.
"Um, I don't think any of that is going to work for me today. I actually came in to look at shoes," I confessed, wrinkling up my nose.
"OK, cool. They're right over here. Let me know if you need a certain size," he said. I was afraid he'd follow me and try to take my shoes off for me, but he made his way back to the counter.
I saw them immediately. I'd coveted them for more than a month, and it was finally my time. I searched for an 8 in the style I liked and slipped them off the shelf. I was already familiar with the European sizes and didn't need a minute to try them on. Heck I'd been test-driving them for two-weeks.
I guess that's what started my obsession. For some reason I borrowed my friend's brother's Dr. Martens to wear to a basketball game one night. It was like test-driving a Porsche. A bad move on my part.
I never really bought into that whole idea that people liked you for your clothes. Boy was I wrong. I hadn't been donning the Docs for fifteen minutes when Mister Right-Now plopped down beside me.
"Nice Docs," he said sincerely.
"Thanks," I smiled back.
"They look good on ya." He clicked his tongue and moved over with his buddies. And I was sold.
He LIKED my shoes! They looked GOOD on me! I HAD to have those shoes. I had to.
I pulled the whole "I forgot" gig with the shoes for two weeks to buy me some time, and as soon as my birthday rolled around I returned them and made plans to purchase my own.
I never got the whole "new shoe" effect. No one noticed them because I'd been wearing them for two weeks. I couldn't brag about them, because I'd played the borrowed set as my own. I just went back to wearing them. Every day. I loved them like I've never loved a pair of shoes.
Twelve years later, I still have them. They're still in excellent shape, and they are the one pair of shoes I can fully justify spending that kind of money on.
If only they were still in style......well....in style for someone other than construction workers....
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Beast: The End
It's time. I've been putting it off for a lot of reasons. The main one is I've been busy. I haven't been here if you didn't notice. Which you probably didn't :) I was on vacation, then had a sick hubby, and I've been out of my bloggy routine.
Know what else? It's kinda scary.
I was scared when I first started this series. Afraid of what I would stir up in my heart. Afraid of criticism. Afraid even my "good" readers wouldn't "get it." Afraid no one could truly comprehend it. At the same time, it felt soooooo good to start pouring it all out. It felt freeing to just say it all. Well, type it all.
And now, this is it. I've told everyone how theraputic it's been. How writing it has finally helped me deal with it and get some closure. So what if I post this last installment, and when it's over, I don't feel free from it? But. The only way to know is to do it. So prepare yourself for a long ending.
When I sat and thought about how to write this, I knew there was only one way. I've pulled from my old Myspace blogs I wrote at the time. I didn't divulge the things I've told you here. I still feared The Beast (and with good reason), but I had to express my thoughts. So, here is 2008 Andrea with her story:
This has been one of the most incredible weeks of my life. I don't mean incredible as in amazing. I mean incredible as in, wow. How did all that happen?
As you have read, I turned in my resignation on Tuesday of last week. At that point I felt I had done everything in my power to be who I am, to teach the right way, and to make my voice heard. I had followed every procedure correctly, yet it got me nowhere. It seemed the harder I tried, the more I came under fire. Placing my resignation on my boss's desk was one of the most relieving things I have ever done. It was as if the weight was completely lifted off my shoulders. I still, however, felt very sad, very distraught, and very helpless.
Hopeless is probably the best word to describe my attitude this year. I looked forward to August this year for the first time in my life. I was sadly disappointed. And I cheated my kids. I am not blaming myself. No one knows what I have endured. Even if I told you everything there is no way you could fathom the depths of despair I have endured. It was physically impossible for me to give my all when I was being crushed.
My point, though, is that for the first year, I probably taught without putting my WHOLE heart into it. If I had to pick a group of kids who I had impacted, I would not have picked this bunch. I felt I had failed them. Of course I was programmed to think that, but that's beside the point.
I went into teaching to love kids, it's my job. I have a passion for them and a heart for them. I desire to work in their lives and help make them who they need to be. But I realized this week that they love me just as much, if not more, than I love them. That is a powerful thing. I can't describe what it feels like to know that literally hundreds of people love you for who you are. They love me even though they've seen me at my worst, and some of them really have. They love me even though I am not always lovable. They love me even though I have sometimes been unfair to them, or sometimes punished them. They love me even though I haven't had enough love to give them this year. I am overwhelmed.
Not only have these kids loved me, now they have taken a stand for me. They don't want me to go...but even knowing they may never persuade me to stay, they have stuck their necks out. They have stood up and said, "we support you" even though they know there may be repercussions for those actions. They are bolder and braver than I could ever be. I am amazed at the things they have said, things they have done, and things they plan to do. It's so overwhelming I can't even really express to them how I feel, how much I love them, or how grateful I am for the care and appreciation they have shown me.
If I had to come to one conclusion, it would be this: For all the chaos and drama we associate with teenagers, they are brave and amazing people. They are the ones who will change the world if we'll just let them.
*****
My time at Warsaw High School has officially ended. Grades have been entered, my room has been cleaned out (as much as it's going to be) [2011 Andrea laughs as she remembers how much CRAP she left for The Beast to clean up], and my goodbyes have been said. That whole sentence is passive, but I like it that way.
My last week at WHS was the best by far. I no longer felt like I was under the watchful scrutiny I had endured all year. I had the "what-are-they-going-to-do-fire-me?" attitude all week. We watched movies, we talked, we took pictures, and we had fun.
I had contemplated all spring what my final goodbye would be like. Obviously I told all my kiddos goodbye. I added them to Myspace (gasp!), I wrote them notes, I hugged them (something they don't see much of...because of the bubble).
For a better part of the spring there have been a pair of hot pink athletic shorts in my top left drawer. It was a strange prank, and I am still not sure what the *actual* punchline was, but I love pink, they give me Hell for it, and they stuffed the shorts in my drawer as a joke one day when I was gone.
We jokingly said I should wear them on the last day. I had thought for weeks about snide remarks I might make, things I might say, or things I might do on that last day. However, I didn't want to appear to have no class. I didn't want to stoop to Its level. On the last day of actual classes, my kids presented me with a tree-killer t-shirt they made me [because of the massive amounts of worksheets I'd given them, you know, because they weren't doing ENOUGH work as per Beasty]. With that, my 'last day' plan began in full force.
I didn't do anything crazy, but I made one last connection with my kids. I wore the hot pink shorts and tree-killer shirt under my polo and jeans. Didn't want any teachers catching wind of my plan. It seemed to take forever to get to my name, but finally they were just one teacher away. When it was almost my turn, I went behind the stage, pulled a "superman" clothes change, slid into my hot pink flip flops, and strutted onto the stage as the first teacher walked away.
My kids went wild. It was an amazing feeling. I looked out and saw a few of the other girls wearing hot pink shorts and home-made t-shirts. I'd assured them there was NO! WAY! I was going to wear mine. It just wouldn't be professional. So they were beaming when they saw me.
I gave my top student awards (yawn) like everyone else, but then I just took a minute to be different. To be me. To love my kids, even the ones some people find unlovable.
I gave outstanding awards to kids who did well in class and showed tremendous character [Monty was among them]. These were the ones who stood up for me, who fought for my job, who prayed for me, loved me, and wanted nothing in return.
I gave a special award for enduring hardships to the boy I was supposedly "dating" as per The Beast(Its face, I hear, was priceless at that time). I gave the kid who passed by the skin of his teeth a Jack Johnson cd because that's what he likes, and because passing by the skin of his teeth was an accomplishment for him. I gave a princess award, complete with crown, to my "teacher pet" and a few others.
Then I gave a poetry award to a student who wrote every poem about pot (metaphorically, of course). But he wrote every poem. A stoner. Wrote every poem. That's an accomplishment! So I wrote one for him:
Ok. A few things you need to know to get this poem.
1) Greg's nickname is Toke (because...well, you know). I refused to call him that or to accept anyone calling him that in class. Prude, maybe..but there has to be a line.
2) Greg wrote every poem about pot in some way. He was sneaky about it (not sneaky enough for me, but sneaky enough it wasn't inappropriate). In his poems were often rhymes including green, bud, and blunt (all used in an appropriate form of course)
3) Greg had NO IDEA about this award, and I read this poem to the entire school before announcing his name (at the end of the poem) for the award..so it was kind of a cool effect.
His poems always made me smile;
If only for a little while
His metaphors were perfection,
But often brought up many questions
The sideways glance was ever-there
As I listened the class would stare
Predicting what his words would be
His rhyming always to a T
It never was a proven theory
But I've always been a little leery
Wondering what his poems mean
Or if they're as deep as they seem
And though his name is sometimes mud
His poems were never, ever duds
Here's to my unlikely poet
None of you would ever know it
He's quite the writer, it's no joke
I present this now, to my friend..........Greg.
Everyone applauded. It was great.
Finally I honored my English III class. It was just one section, and these poor kids had worked all year to figure out why I wouldn't let them hug me. They were the boys the other teachers warn you about. The ones who know how to be obnoxious. The ones who know how to make you crazy without breaking any handbook rules. Throughout the year I realized they had some kind of obsession with using the words lodge, wedge, and power as a verb for..uh..having relations. Every story we read without a doubt had one of the three words and I had to spend ten minutes quelling the laughter and getting back on task. It was annoying, but by the end of the year I knew I had to just accept it and do my best to avoid the words at all costs.
Just before school was out I found a t-shirt at Maruices that had a log cabin on it and said "Lost Love Lodge," and I had to buy it. It made me smile. I wore it under my tree-killer shirt and made the switch once more for this part of the awards ceremony. I gave boys awards who never get awards, just because everyone deserves an award sometimes.
And when I walked off that stage, in my stupid pink shorts, yellow "lodge" shirt, and with tears in my eyes, I saw them rise to their feet. I heard them hollering and yelling my name. No matter what crap happened this year, for those few minutes, it was just me and my kids.
I got many compliments, from teachers, from even an administrator, about how great my presentations were. "You should've seen Pierre's face when you gave him that award. I don't think he's ever got an award. That's a great thing you did," Mr. Assistant told me. And that is exactly what teaching is all about. It's not about getting the highest scoring kids, or getting through the book. It's about reaching the sometimes unreachable. It's about making a difference in a life. And when I walked off that stage, I knew my mission was accomplished. That's an amazing feeling. The reward for my struggles.
That day was the best day I'd had in two years. It made me realize that even at what felt like my worst, I was reaching someone. I was making connections, and despite EVERYTHING The Beast had tried to make others (and even me) believe about myself, IT WAS WRONG. I succeeded. Maybe not by Its terms. Maybe not in the MOST professional sense, but I succeeded.
I made it through the worst time of my entire life.
I didn't give up.
I didn't quit.
I survived.
I lived to tell the story.
And I'm better for it now.
As for The Beast? It's still teaching. It's still corrupting. It kept after me even after I left the district, and I had some rough times at Its hand, but I survived.
I.
Survived.
Know what else? It's kinda scary.
I was scared when I first started this series. Afraid of what I would stir up in my heart. Afraid of criticism. Afraid even my "good" readers wouldn't "get it." Afraid no one could truly comprehend it. At the same time, it felt soooooo good to start pouring it all out. It felt freeing to just say it all. Well, type it all.
And now, this is it. I've told everyone how theraputic it's been. How writing it has finally helped me deal with it and get some closure. So what if I post this last installment, and when it's over, I don't feel free from it? But. The only way to know is to do it. So prepare yourself for a long ending.
When I sat and thought about how to write this, I knew there was only one way. I've pulled from my old Myspace blogs I wrote at the time. I didn't divulge the things I've told you here. I still feared The Beast (and with good reason), but I had to express my thoughts. So, here is 2008 Andrea with her story:
This has been one of the most incredible weeks of my life. I don't mean incredible as in amazing. I mean incredible as in, wow. How did all that happen?
As you have read, I turned in my resignation on Tuesday of last week. At that point I felt I had done everything in my power to be who I am, to teach the right way, and to make my voice heard. I had followed every procedure correctly, yet it got me nowhere. It seemed the harder I tried, the more I came under fire. Placing my resignation on my boss's desk was one of the most relieving things I have ever done. It was as if the weight was completely lifted off my shoulders. I still, however, felt very sad, very distraught, and very helpless.
Hopeless is probably the best word to describe my attitude this year. I looked forward to August this year for the first time in my life. I was sadly disappointed. And I cheated my kids. I am not blaming myself. No one knows what I have endured. Even if I told you everything there is no way you could fathom the depths of despair I have endured. It was physically impossible for me to give my all when I was being crushed.
My point, though, is that for the first year, I probably taught without putting my WHOLE heart into it. If I had to pick a group of kids who I had impacted, I would not have picked this bunch. I felt I had failed them. Of course I was programmed to think that, but that's beside the point.
I went into teaching to love kids, it's my job. I have a passion for them and a heart for them. I desire to work in their lives and help make them who they need to be. But I realized this week that they love me just as much, if not more, than I love them. That is a powerful thing. I can't describe what it feels like to know that literally hundreds of people love you for who you are. They love me even though they've seen me at my worst, and some of them really have. They love me even though I am not always lovable. They love me even though I have sometimes been unfair to them, or sometimes punished them. They love me even though I haven't had enough love to give them this year. I am overwhelmed.
Not only have these kids loved me, now they have taken a stand for me. They don't want me to go...but even knowing they may never persuade me to stay, they have stuck their necks out. They have stood up and said, "we support you" even though they know there may be repercussions for those actions. They are bolder and braver than I could ever be. I am amazed at the things they have said, things they have done, and things they plan to do. It's so overwhelming I can't even really express to them how I feel, how much I love them, or how grateful I am for the care and appreciation they have shown me.
If I had to come to one conclusion, it would be this: For all the chaos and drama we associate with teenagers, they are brave and amazing people. They are the ones who will change the world if we'll just let them.
*****
My time at Warsaw High School has officially ended. Grades have been entered, my room has been cleaned out (as much as it's going to be) [2011 Andrea laughs as she remembers how much CRAP she left for The Beast to clean up], and my goodbyes have been said. That whole sentence is passive, but I like it that way.
My last week at WHS was the best by far. I no longer felt like I was under the watchful scrutiny I had endured all year. I had the "what-are-they-going-to-do-fire-me?" attitude all week. We watched movies, we talked, we took pictures, and we had fun.
I had contemplated all spring what my final goodbye would be like. Obviously I told all my kiddos goodbye. I added them to Myspace (gasp!), I wrote them notes, I hugged them (something they don't see much of...because of the bubble).
For a better part of the spring there have been a pair of hot pink athletic shorts in my top left drawer. It was a strange prank, and I am still not sure what the *actual* punchline was, but I love pink, they give me Hell for it, and they stuffed the shorts in my drawer as a joke one day when I was gone.
We jokingly said I should wear them on the last day. I had thought for weeks about snide remarks I might make, things I might say, or things I might do on that last day. However, I didn't want to appear to have no class. I didn't want to stoop to Its level. On the last day of actual classes, my kids presented me with a tree-killer t-shirt they made me [because of the massive amounts of worksheets I'd given them, you know, because they weren't doing ENOUGH work as per Beasty]. With that, my 'last day' plan began in full force.
I didn't do anything crazy, but I made one last connection with my kids. I wore the hot pink shorts and tree-killer shirt under my polo and jeans. Didn't want any teachers catching wind of my plan. It seemed to take forever to get to my name, but finally they were just one teacher away. When it was almost my turn, I went behind the stage, pulled a "superman" clothes change, slid into my hot pink flip flops, and strutted onto the stage as the first teacher walked away.
My kids went wild. It was an amazing feeling. I looked out and saw a few of the other girls wearing hot pink shorts and home-made t-shirts. I'd assured them there was NO! WAY! I was going to wear mine. It just wouldn't be professional. So they were beaming when they saw me.
I gave my top student awards (yawn) like everyone else, but then I just took a minute to be different. To be me. To love my kids, even the ones some people find unlovable.
I gave outstanding awards to kids who did well in class and showed tremendous character [Monty was among them]. These were the ones who stood up for me, who fought for my job, who prayed for me, loved me, and wanted nothing in return.
I gave a special award for enduring hardships to the boy I was supposedly "dating" as per The Beast(Its face, I hear, was priceless at that time). I gave the kid who passed by the skin of his teeth a Jack Johnson cd because that's what he likes, and because passing by the skin of his teeth was an accomplishment for him. I gave a princess award, complete with crown, to my "teacher pet" and a few others.
Then I gave a poetry award to a student who wrote every poem about pot (metaphorically, of course). But he wrote every poem. A stoner. Wrote every poem. That's an accomplishment! So I wrote one for him:
Ok. A few things you need to know to get this poem.
1) Greg's nickname is Toke (because...well, you know). I refused to call him that or to accept anyone calling him that in class. Prude, maybe..but there has to be a line.
2) Greg wrote every poem about pot in some way. He was sneaky about it (not sneaky enough for me, but sneaky enough it wasn't inappropriate). In his poems were often rhymes including green, bud, and blunt (all used in an appropriate form of course)
3) Greg had NO IDEA about this award, and I read this poem to the entire school before announcing his name (at the end of the poem) for the award..so it was kind of a cool effect.
His poems always made me smile;
If only for a little while
His metaphors were perfection,
But often brought up many questions
The sideways glance was ever-there
As I listened the class would stare
Predicting what his words would be
His rhyming always to a T
It never was a proven theory
But I've always been a little leery
Wondering what his poems mean
Or if they're as deep as they seem
And though his name is sometimes mud
His poems were never, ever duds
Here's to my unlikely poet
None of you would ever know it
He's quite the writer, it's no joke
I present this now, to my friend..........Greg.
Everyone applauded. It was great.
Finally I honored my English III class. It was just one section, and these poor kids had worked all year to figure out why I wouldn't let them hug me. They were the boys the other teachers warn you about. The ones who know how to be obnoxious. The ones who know how to make you crazy without breaking any handbook rules. Throughout the year I realized they had some kind of obsession with using the words lodge, wedge, and power as a verb for..uh..having relations. Every story we read without a doubt had one of the three words and I had to spend ten minutes quelling the laughter and getting back on task. It was annoying, but by the end of the year I knew I had to just accept it and do my best to avoid the words at all costs.
Just before school was out I found a t-shirt at Maruices that had a log cabin on it and said "Lost Love Lodge," and I had to buy it. It made me smile. I wore it under my tree-killer shirt and made the switch once more for this part of the awards ceremony. I gave boys awards who never get awards, just because everyone deserves an award sometimes.
And when I walked off that stage, in my stupid pink shorts, yellow "lodge" shirt, and with tears in my eyes, I saw them rise to their feet. I heard them hollering and yelling my name. No matter what crap happened this year, for those few minutes, it was just me and my kids.
I got many compliments, from teachers, from even an administrator, about how great my presentations were. "You should've seen Pierre's face when you gave him that award. I don't think he's ever got an award. That's a great thing you did," Mr. Assistant told me. And that is exactly what teaching is all about. It's not about getting the highest scoring kids, or getting through the book. It's about reaching the sometimes unreachable. It's about making a difference in a life. And when I walked off that stage, I knew my mission was accomplished. That's an amazing feeling. The reward for my struggles.
That day was the best day I'd had in two years. It made me realize that even at what felt like my worst, I was reaching someone. I was making connections, and despite EVERYTHING The Beast had tried to make others (and even me) believe about myself, IT WAS WRONG. I succeeded. Maybe not by Its terms. Maybe not in the MOST professional sense, but I succeeded.
I made it through the worst time of my entire life.
I didn't give up.
I didn't quit.
I survived.
I lived to tell the story.
And I'm better for it now.
As for The Beast? It's still teaching. It's still corrupting. It kept after me even after I left the district, and I had some rough times at Its hand, but I survived.
I.
Survived.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The Beast: Part 16
I was shocked when I read Bob Boss's e-mail. I didn't keep that e-mail, because I didn't want to drag Bob into my mess. He had been through enough, and it had been a personal question for my own decision-making and peace of mind.
What did Bob tell me? He told me to get out and get out fast. He said it was not going to end, I would NEVER win in the end, and with the board victory under my belt I should walk out while the walking was good. He speculated what would happen if The Beast kept it up the following year. I would no longer have board support, because It WOULD do everything in Its power to prove It had tried and that I had failed.
He told me he was sorry I had gone through this. Told me he had enjoyed working with me and that I was a good young teacher who would thrive in an environment that wasn't toxic.
And then. The line I won't forget.
"Without going into details, let me just say you were doomed before you even walked in the door this year. I can tell you that. From what I gathered when I was there, this has been a goal since before the year started. There was nothing you could've done."
And that did it. That gave me that last push. You see, everything had been so WARPED and manipulated I even began to wonder if The Beast was USING Mr. Assistant. Maybe he wasn't looking at my best interest, but playing "good cop" and encouraging me to leave in a nice way, doing so only to please The Beast.
Crazy. Can you imagine living a whole year like that? Always wondering what is real and what is a game? Who is loyal and who is a pawn? Which kids really like you, and which are spies for The Beast (I now know I had at least two confirmed Beast spies as students. Students who did a very good job of trying to get information for It).
But Bob Boss had nothing to gain or lose. He didn't have to tell me any of that. He could've deleted the e-mail and been done with it. And to hear that he KNEW when he was in power that The Beast was going to target me...that was the last straw.
Bob Boss sent me a stack of recommendation letters to help with my endeavors. My first boss did the same. Both were a huge help to me in this time of desperation.
I got the new job. I took it as soon as he called, and wrote up my second letter of resignation.
I explained that I appreciated the board backing me up, but that it was CLEAR that it was never going to work, and that I needed an environment where I could grow and be comfortable teaching, not be on the defensive at all times. I told Mr. English about my decision, but wasn't going to tell The Beast until the end of the day.
Mr. English spilled the beans.
So, I marched up to The Beast in the hall and handed It my letter.
"I didn't really mean for Mr. English to tell you first, but I'm done."
"Awww! Are you sure? After everything I hate to see you do that. I really think we can work together and have a great year next year!" It sang beastily.
You know how you can think a million thoughts in a split-second? That's what I did. I was in awe that It would even SUGGEST I stay. That It would tell me we could work together. That It wasn't satisfied with me leaving. It wanted to torture me further.
"No. We won't," I tossed back at It "It will never be a good environment for me. I found another job and there is no way I'm staying to work for you." I wanted to be clear that I wasn't unhappy with the job. It was The Beast.
Mr. Assistant heard the news and came to talk to me.
"I think you did the right thing," he told me.
"Bob Boss told me I had been doomed before I walked in the building this year," I confided.
"I would say he is right," Mr. Assistant agreed. He understood. It took him a whole year and a lot of mistakes, but he finally saw it. He saw how The Beast had played everyone, even him, and he was afraid he would be next on Its list (he was right).
I was at peace. I knew I was doing the right thing, and I felt so RELIEVED to be going somewhere that I could let my guard down and enjoy doing my job.
My "supporters," however, didn't see it quite the same way, and my decision wasn't acceptable to everyone.
I told the students first, and most of them understood, but there were many who were disappointed. They felt like they'd been a huge part of my "winning" the board battle, and they were disappointed I was surrendering after they went to bat for me.
I tried to explain it to them, but I also had to remain professional. So I couldn't tell them that their principal was bullying me, and had been all year. I couldn't tell them that Mr. Boss told me It was out to get me.
The kids were the most forgiving. There were people in the community, and people at my own church, who felt I "owed" it to them to stay. Here I thought they had supported me of their own free will. I never asked for their support. Not once. I thought they were doing what they thought was right. I didn't know it was a favor to be repaid.
They said things like, "How could she? After all we did?"
They didn't understand that when it came to staying in Hell my thought was, "How could I? After all IT did?"
They thought it was cowardly and wrong of me to take another job and quit within a month of the board victory.
It hurt me that no one understood. No one even tried to understand. I didn't want to leave. But if I didn't go, I was going to be slaughtered.
The Beast didn't like me leaving on my terms. It wasn't very happy that I took the support of the board, then didn't give It the chance to persecute me anymore, or push me toward failure. It also didn't like that I had a whole month to teach without fear. Evaluations were done. There was no need for It to monitor me anymore. I already had another job so frankly I didn't care what It thought, what It said, or what It did.
I wasn't scared anymore.
What did Bob tell me? He told me to get out and get out fast. He said it was not going to end, I would NEVER win in the end, and with the board victory under my belt I should walk out while the walking was good. He speculated what would happen if The Beast kept it up the following year. I would no longer have board support, because It WOULD do everything in Its power to prove It had tried and that I had failed.
He told me he was sorry I had gone through this. Told me he had enjoyed working with me and that I was a good young teacher who would thrive in an environment that wasn't toxic.
And then. The line I won't forget.
"Without going into details, let me just say you were doomed before you even walked in the door this year. I can tell you that. From what I gathered when I was there, this has been a goal since before the year started. There was nothing you could've done."
And that did it. That gave me that last push. You see, everything had been so WARPED and manipulated I even began to wonder if The Beast was USING Mr. Assistant. Maybe he wasn't looking at my best interest, but playing "good cop" and encouraging me to leave in a nice way, doing so only to please The Beast.
Crazy. Can you imagine living a whole year like that? Always wondering what is real and what is a game? Who is loyal and who is a pawn? Which kids really like you, and which are spies for The Beast (I now know I had at least two confirmed Beast spies as students. Students who did a very good job of trying to get information for It).
But Bob Boss had nothing to gain or lose. He didn't have to tell me any of that. He could've deleted the e-mail and been done with it. And to hear that he KNEW when he was in power that The Beast was going to target me...that was the last straw.
Bob Boss sent me a stack of recommendation letters to help with my endeavors. My first boss did the same. Both were a huge help to me in this time of desperation.
I got the new job. I took it as soon as he called, and wrote up my second letter of resignation.
I explained that I appreciated the board backing me up, but that it was CLEAR that it was never going to work, and that I needed an environment where I could grow and be comfortable teaching, not be on the defensive at all times. I told Mr. English about my decision, but wasn't going to tell The Beast until the end of the day.
Mr. English spilled the beans.
So, I marched up to The Beast in the hall and handed It my letter.
"I didn't really mean for Mr. English to tell you first, but I'm done."
"Awww! Are you sure? After everything I hate to see you do that. I really think we can work together and have a great year next year!" It sang beastily.
You know how you can think a million thoughts in a split-second? That's what I did. I was in awe that It would even SUGGEST I stay. That It would tell me we could work together. That It wasn't satisfied with me leaving. It wanted to torture me further.
"No. We won't," I tossed back at It "It will never be a good environment for me. I found another job and there is no way I'm staying to work for you." I wanted to be clear that I wasn't unhappy with the job. It was The Beast.
Mr. Assistant heard the news and came to talk to me.
"I think you did the right thing," he told me.
"Bob Boss told me I had been doomed before I walked in the building this year," I confided.
"I would say he is right," Mr. Assistant agreed. He understood. It took him a whole year and a lot of mistakes, but he finally saw it. He saw how The Beast had played everyone, even him, and he was afraid he would be next on Its list (he was right).
I was at peace. I knew I was doing the right thing, and I felt so RELIEVED to be going somewhere that I could let my guard down and enjoy doing my job.
My "supporters," however, didn't see it quite the same way, and my decision wasn't acceptable to everyone.
I told the students first, and most of them understood, but there were many who were disappointed. They felt like they'd been a huge part of my "winning" the board battle, and they were disappointed I was surrendering after they went to bat for me.
I tried to explain it to them, but I also had to remain professional. So I couldn't tell them that their principal was bullying me, and had been all year. I couldn't tell them that Mr. Boss told me It was out to get me.
The kids were the most forgiving. There were people in the community, and people at my own church, who felt I "owed" it to them to stay. Here I thought they had supported me of their own free will. I never asked for their support. Not once. I thought they were doing what they thought was right. I didn't know it was a favor to be repaid.
They said things like, "How could she? After all we did?"
They didn't understand that when it came to staying in Hell my thought was, "How could I? After all IT did?"
They thought it was cowardly and wrong of me to take another job and quit within a month of the board victory.
It hurt me that no one understood. No one even tried to understand. I didn't want to leave. But if I didn't go, I was going to be slaughtered.
The Beast didn't like me leaving on my terms. It wasn't very happy that I took the support of the board, then didn't give It the chance to persecute me anymore, or push me toward failure. It also didn't like that I had a whole month to teach without fear. Evaluations were done. There was no need for It to monitor me anymore. I already had another job so frankly I didn't care what It thought, what It said, or what It did.
I wasn't scared anymore.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Beast: Part 15
I walked to the meeting with Mr. President and The Beast with an odd sort of confidence. I had, after all, won. It had beaten me down all year long, but when it came to the big one, the battle that mattered, I won.
But what had I won?
Congratulations! You've won another year in Hell!
Even though I had survived, a part of me still didn't know if I'd try to stay. I had a month to decide whether or not to retract my resignation letter, and I didn't have any other job prospects, so I figured I would see how it would go.
I went to the meeting in hopes Mr. President wanted to get to the bottom of things. I hoped he would back me, or at the very least be supportive of BOTH of us and be the mediator to try and make a plan for the future.
I was severely disappointed. I was handed the following "contract" and asked to sign on the dotted line:
The following items are preliminary duties/responsibilites expected of Mrs. Lastname.
What? So I was supposed to sign a document saying I would correct these things that I hadn't even DONE. Things that had been fabricated? And if I had questions or concerns I had to face The Beast? The one I'd gone head-to-head with? I had no liason? Nothing?
Nothing.
But. I signed it. I figured it was no big deal since I already had most everything ready to hand over. I was irritated that I was going to miss three hours of classes for these "meetings" where I was supposed to learn SO MUCH about teaching, but whatever. I was also quite irritated that I was being forced to sign a paper promising to meet with Fatbelly and Idiocy when I wasn't the one who had ducked out of those meetings. Idiocy had been told she didn't even HAVE to participate. So now I was back to planning for her? Fine.
I gave up 2 of my 5 planning hours every week. The Beast had given me a matter of DAYS to do the emergency plans, assuming I had none I guess. I handed in the emergency plans from my bottom desk drawer, where they'd always been, on the due date. I attached a seating chart with a diagram of the room and student names on it. When The Beast looked at it, It said, "I said a PICTURED seating chart." Yep. It wanted me to get into the grade program and use the students' school mug shot and copy/paste it to my seating charts. Honestly. I did it. It was dumb, but I did it. I was the only person in the school, I think, who did that, but I did it.
I showed up for my Thursday meeting the first week, and it went quickly. It didn't have much to say, and I made It sign my paper saying I had attended. The following weeks it cancelled the meeting, and each time I made sure I had e-mail verification as to why, or that IT had done the cancelling, not me.
The work of documenting was becoming greater, and It was working harder at trying to get me on a slip.
I met with Mr. Senior Science to talk about lesson plans. He didn't understand why my plans were in question. I showed him my plan book from the whole year, and how I had attached GLEs to every lesson. He thought they even looked better than his own. They had been on my desk all year. But I turned them in anyway.
Finally I went to observe these "Master Teachers" in their classrooms, and that's when I decided this whole thing was for the birds.
While Jr. Science set up a lab, he let the kids work on homework. The kids mostly just sat and talked. About half-way through the hour they traded and graded papers. The kids and the teacher argued for about five minutes on point values and kids argued for half credit on some of their answers. Finally he started the experiment, but it wouldn't work. He went to get another teacher to help, then ended up moving the whole class to that teacher's room. Before the experiment was complete, the bell rang.
And I have poor planning?
Nothing against him. He is a smart guy and did a good job. But it just proved MY point. They're kids. You can't always control them. Sometimes there is chaos. Sometimes plans don't go so well. But what could I say?
The math teacher was much the same. She let them argue about how much longer they had to finish homework. They talked out in class. Some of them didn't pay attention. It was a ridiculous waste of my time. The main thing I learned? These kids behave for me the same way they behave for all teachers. Good most of the time, but seeing what they can accomplish.
Feeling more oppressed than ever, I thought it would never end. I was still considering quitting without a back-up plan when I got a call. There was a job opening at a small school thirty miles away. And I had an interview.
Still thinking I would "wait and see," I made plans for the Interview. I didn't tell ANYONE.
The interview went well, and I would find out in a few days. I still wasn't sure what to do. I didn't WANT to leave that school, but I wanted to leave the persecution.
Then Mr. Assistant caught me in the hallway. The school had called him as a reference, so he knew (after we made amends he told me to use him as my reference from now on).
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I don't know," I told him honestly.
"It seems like things are ok, but gosh Andrea, I really think it's going to get worse. I mean, I'm not telling you what to do, but I'm afraid if you stay it will just start worse next year. I mean, I feel like It's setting you up to fail. You have all these stipulations and stuff, and now the board is watching. The Beast didn't cover Its bases last time, but this time It knows what It's up against and It will come back bigger and better."
I knew he was probably right. But at the same time, the lies had to stop now. It knew It could do nothing without documentation, right?
I decided to get a hold of my former principal, Bob Boss. I sent him an e-mail alerting him about the situation, and waited to see if he would respond at all. I knew that it was rumored he'd been run out, so I hoped he could offer some insight, but I feared he would not want a part of it. I bared my soul and told him pretty much everything in a nutshell.
I was shocked when he emailed me back within 24 hours, and even MORE shocked at what he had to say.
But what had I won?
Congratulations! You've won another year in Hell!
Even though I had survived, a part of me still didn't know if I'd try to stay. I had a month to decide whether or not to retract my resignation letter, and I didn't have any other job prospects, so I figured I would see how it would go.
I went to the meeting in hopes Mr. President wanted to get to the bottom of things. I hoped he would back me, or at the very least be supportive of BOTH of us and be the mediator to try and make a plan for the future.
I was severely disappointed. I was handed the following "contract" and asked to sign on the dotted line:
The following items are preliminary duties/responsibilites expected of Mrs. Lastname.
- Attend all professional development meetings requested and report back to The Beast on the Thursday following.
- Meet with The Beast every Thursday during 1st hour.
- When an absence occurs, Mrs. Lastname will leave lesson plans for the substitute and have a pictured seating chart. Lesson plans need to cover a full 50 minute period. The plans will be left with Mrs. Secretary for teh sub to pick up when they sign in.
- Give The Beast emergency lesson plans for every class, should an unexpected absence occur. This needs to be turned in by March 31.
- Mrs. Lastname will collaborate with fellow CA teachers at least once a week to devise common lesson plans and common assessments. This will be done during 1st hour.
- Mrs. Lastname will observe Mr. Junior Science, Mr. Senior Science, and Mrs. Math on the dates The Beast has arranged.
- Mrs. Lastname will meet with Mr. Senior Science or Mr. Senior Science II at 2:30 on April 2 to discuss proper lesson planning, including GLE's (grade-level expectations...and that shouldn't have an apostrophe, but The Beast typed this, and I wanted to make sure I didn't alter it in any way lol)
What? So I was supposed to sign a document saying I would correct these things that I hadn't even DONE. Things that had been fabricated? And if I had questions or concerns I had to face The Beast? The one I'd gone head-to-head with? I had no liason? Nothing?
Nothing.
But. I signed it. I figured it was no big deal since I already had most everything ready to hand over. I was irritated that I was going to miss three hours of classes for these "meetings" where I was supposed to learn SO MUCH about teaching, but whatever. I was also quite irritated that I was being forced to sign a paper promising to meet with Fatbelly and Idiocy when I wasn't the one who had ducked out of those meetings. Idiocy had been told she didn't even HAVE to participate. So now I was back to planning for her? Fine.
I gave up 2 of my 5 planning hours every week. The Beast had given me a matter of DAYS to do the emergency plans, assuming I had none I guess. I handed in the emergency plans from my bottom desk drawer, where they'd always been, on the due date. I attached a seating chart with a diagram of the room and student names on it. When The Beast looked at it, It said, "I said a PICTURED seating chart." Yep. It wanted me to get into the grade program and use the students' school mug shot and copy/paste it to my seating charts. Honestly. I did it. It was dumb, but I did it. I was the only person in the school, I think, who did that, but I did it.
I showed up for my Thursday meeting the first week, and it went quickly. It didn't have much to say, and I made It sign my paper saying I had attended. The following weeks it cancelled the meeting, and each time I made sure I had e-mail verification as to why, or that IT had done the cancelling, not me.
The work of documenting was becoming greater, and It was working harder at trying to get me on a slip.
I met with Mr. Senior Science to talk about lesson plans. He didn't understand why my plans were in question. I showed him my plan book from the whole year, and how I had attached GLEs to every lesson. He thought they even looked better than his own. They had been on my desk all year. But I turned them in anyway.
Finally I went to observe these "Master Teachers" in their classrooms, and that's when I decided this whole thing was for the birds.
While Jr. Science set up a lab, he let the kids work on homework. The kids mostly just sat and talked. About half-way through the hour they traded and graded papers. The kids and the teacher argued for about five minutes on point values and kids argued for half credit on some of their answers. Finally he started the experiment, but it wouldn't work. He went to get another teacher to help, then ended up moving the whole class to that teacher's room. Before the experiment was complete, the bell rang.
And I have poor planning?
Nothing against him. He is a smart guy and did a good job. But it just proved MY point. They're kids. You can't always control them. Sometimes there is chaos. Sometimes plans don't go so well. But what could I say?
The math teacher was much the same. She let them argue about how much longer they had to finish homework. They talked out in class. Some of them didn't pay attention. It was a ridiculous waste of my time. The main thing I learned? These kids behave for me the same way they behave for all teachers. Good most of the time, but seeing what they can accomplish.
Feeling more oppressed than ever, I thought it would never end. I was still considering quitting without a back-up plan when I got a call. There was a job opening at a small school thirty miles away. And I had an interview.
Still thinking I would "wait and see," I made plans for the Interview. I didn't tell ANYONE.
The interview went well, and I would find out in a few days. I still wasn't sure what to do. I didn't WANT to leave that school, but I wanted to leave the persecution.
Then Mr. Assistant caught me in the hallway. The school had called him as a reference, so he knew (after we made amends he told me to use him as my reference from now on).
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I don't know," I told him honestly.
"It seems like things are ok, but gosh Andrea, I really think it's going to get worse. I mean, I'm not telling you what to do, but I'm afraid if you stay it will just start worse next year. I mean, I feel like It's setting you up to fail. You have all these stipulations and stuff, and now the board is watching. The Beast didn't cover Its bases last time, but this time It knows what It's up against and It will come back bigger and better."
I knew he was probably right. But at the same time, the lies had to stop now. It knew It could do nothing without documentation, right?
I decided to get a hold of my former principal, Bob Boss. I sent him an e-mail alerting him about the situation, and waited to see if he would respond at all. I knew that it was rumored he'd been run out, so I hoped he could offer some insight, but I feared he would not want a part of it. I bared my soul and told him pretty much everything in a nutshell.
I was shocked when he emailed me back within 24 hours, and even MORE shocked at what he had to say.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Beast: Part 14
The day finally came for the board meeting. By that time my story was no secret. I mean, most people had no idea the horrors that had occurred throughout the year, but most knew I was being unfairly targeted and bullied at the very least.
Mr. Assistant had apologized for everything. He feared for his own job and his own well-being, and somehow I guess throwing me under the bus looked like a sure-fire way for him to avoid the wrath. He realized what he'd done, obviously a little too late, and I forgave him. After all, I would've done it too, I think. You think you know what your "line" is until you become a victim of every-day bullying, then suddenly you find you just MIGHT betray people you care about if it will end your own madness.
Anyway, I knew there had been a large number of people sign up to attend the closed session, but I don't think I truly believed they'd show up.
I arrived at the meeting a few minutes early. I wanted to speak to Monty before the ordeal started. When I got there, I heard the whispering. The board had decided against letting ANYONE into the closed session except for Monty. The guy who was supposed to have sixty-two people behind him was suddenly going to be thrust in alone. I wasn't surprised.
People poured in for the general session. The library was packed, and people even stood in the back and out in the hall. The poor shmucks who were there to present regular business and had no warning were caught completely off-guard. The transportation director stumbled over her presentation, baffled by the audience she wasn't expecting.
Ms. Fatbelly was there for some reason other than my ordeal, and I heard her whisper to someone, "What's giong on tonight?" It made me smile inside knowing it was all for me. Moreso that it was all ANTI-Beast.
Finally they decided to go into closed session, and shooed everyone out of the room but The Beast. We assumed they planned to take care of "normal" business first. It was hiring/firing time, and we gathered they were going to do all their re-hires first. George, one of the students from FCA, led a prayer among the mass of people.
Soon The Beast emerged, and in Its most Beastly voice sang, "Oh Monty, I think they're ready for you now!" He went in and read his letter to the board. They wanted to know who each and every signature belonged to, so he had to decipher some hand-writing. Then they had a few more questions, and finally asked him, "So which students told you It called Mrs. Lastname worthless?"
Monty must have swallowed hard. I imagine he'd tell you he didn't think twice about answering the question, but even for a split second, the thought had to cross his mind, "What am I doing?" He knew full-well what he was up against, and yet, he spoke.
"One of my best-friends, Mac. And the star-athlete, (also the beau of the Beastly Spawn) Bo."
Meanwhile, we'd all be chatting quietly in the hallway. It was an awkward atmosphere, because The Beast had remained in the hallway as well. It knew every person in that hall was there AGAINST It. It tried Its best to pretend that wasn't the case. It tried to strike a conversation here and there, but really to no avail.
Finally Monty came out, and The Beast was called back in. It carried a full file folder. I imagine it was the counter-stories to my full folder of documentation. The difference? My folder contained statements from several credible sources.
Students crowded the windows, trying to peer without being seen. I remember a few of them went to the windows behind the board (so not to be seen by them) and spied on The Beast.
"OH my gosh. It's flustered!" one reported.
"It's face is so RED!"
"I think they're yelling at It!"
"OOooooh it just raised Its voice!"
Finally It came stomping out of the room and klip-klopped up to Its office. Many speculated It was spying on the cameras, or listening via intercom. A couple of students even snuck up to Its office to see what it was up to, but couldn't get through the main office to see.
The board deliberated.
And deliberated.
And deliberated.
And then they left. None said a word to me, or to anyone else in the hallway. I don't know if they said a word to The Beast or not. And I can't remember if Mrs. SuperAssistant called me that night, or if it was in the morning she told me the news.
"The board voted not to accept your resignation," she told me. "You have a meeting with The Beast and Mr. President in the morning. The board expects the two of you to erect a plan that will allow for you both to do your jobs sufficiently and get along," she explained. Whew. I was sure that meant the board had agreed I was treated unfairly, and they were going to make sure It was put in Its place.
What I didn't know at the time, was that Mr. President was, how would you say it? Up The Beast's butt? That's a little graphic I guess, but that's what I learned. There were MANY rumors and speculations as to WHY that was the case, but none of that matters. All that mattered at that time was that I was going into a meeting thinking I had the board on my side and a neutral party to supervise the agreement with The Beast.
And I was wrong...
Mr. Assistant had apologized for everything. He feared for his own job and his own well-being, and somehow I guess throwing me under the bus looked like a sure-fire way for him to avoid the wrath. He realized what he'd done, obviously a little too late, and I forgave him. After all, I would've done it too, I think. You think you know what your "line" is until you become a victim of every-day bullying, then suddenly you find you just MIGHT betray people you care about if it will end your own madness.
Anyway, I knew there had been a large number of people sign up to attend the closed session, but I don't think I truly believed they'd show up.
I arrived at the meeting a few minutes early. I wanted to speak to Monty before the ordeal started. When I got there, I heard the whispering. The board had decided against letting ANYONE into the closed session except for Monty. The guy who was supposed to have sixty-two people behind him was suddenly going to be thrust in alone. I wasn't surprised.
People poured in for the general session. The library was packed, and people even stood in the back and out in the hall. The poor shmucks who were there to present regular business and had no warning were caught completely off-guard. The transportation director stumbled over her presentation, baffled by the audience she wasn't expecting.
Ms. Fatbelly was there for some reason other than my ordeal, and I heard her whisper to someone, "What's giong on tonight?" It made me smile inside knowing it was all for me. Moreso that it was all ANTI-Beast.
Finally they decided to go into closed session, and shooed everyone out of the room but The Beast. We assumed they planned to take care of "normal" business first. It was hiring/firing time, and we gathered they were going to do all their re-hires first. George, one of the students from FCA, led a prayer among the mass of people.
Soon The Beast emerged, and in Its most Beastly voice sang, "Oh Monty, I think they're ready for you now!" He went in and read his letter to the board. They wanted to know who each and every signature belonged to, so he had to decipher some hand-writing. Then they had a few more questions, and finally asked him, "So which students told you It called Mrs. Lastname worthless?"
Monty must have swallowed hard. I imagine he'd tell you he didn't think twice about answering the question, but even for a split second, the thought had to cross his mind, "What am I doing?" He knew full-well what he was up against, and yet, he spoke.
"One of my best-friends, Mac. And the star-athlete, (also the beau of the Beastly Spawn) Bo."
Meanwhile, we'd all be chatting quietly in the hallway. It was an awkward atmosphere, because The Beast had remained in the hallway as well. It knew every person in that hall was there AGAINST It. It tried Its best to pretend that wasn't the case. It tried to strike a conversation here and there, but really to no avail.
Finally Monty came out, and The Beast was called back in. It carried a full file folder. I imagine it was the counter-stories to my full folder of documentation. The difference? My folder contained statements from several credible sources.
Students crowded the windows, trying to peer without being seen. I remember a few of them went to the windows behind the board (so not to be seen by them) and spied on The Beast.
"OH my gosh. It's flustered!" one reported.
"It's face is so RED!"
"I think they're yelling at It!"
"OOooooh it just raised Its voice!"
Finally It came stomping out of the room and klip-klopped up to Its office. Many speculated It was spying on the cameras, or listening via intercom. A couple of students even snuck up to Its office to see what it was up to, but couldn't get through the main office to see.
The board deliberated.
And deliberated.
And deliberated.
And then they left. None said a word to me, or to anyone else in the hallway. I don't know if they said a word to The Beast or not. And I can't remember if Mrs. SuperAssistant called me that night, or if it was in the morning she told me the news.
"The board voted not to accept your resignation," she told me. "You have a meeting with The Beast and Mr. President in the morning. The board expects the two of you to erect a plan that will allow for you both to do your jobs sufficiently and get along," she explained. Whew. I was sure that meant the board had agreed I was treated unfairly, and they were going to make sure It was put in Its place.
What I didn't know at the time, was that Mr. President was, how would you say it? Up The Beast's butt? That's a little graphic I guess, but that's what I learned. There were MANY rumors and speculations as to WHY that was the case, but none of that matters. All that mattered at that time was that I was going into a meeting thinking I had the board on my side and a neutral party to supervise the agreement with The Beast.
And I was wrong...
Monday, May 2, 2011
The Beast: A Guest Post
I’d walked into her classroom every day of my freshman year taking a deep breath and feeling like I could relax. After going through six classes that comprised a schedule one might call hell for a freshman, I always felt like I could come into Mrs. Lastname’s class and take it easy while still learning something pertinent.
She was strict but kind; she taught a much more rigorous course than the alternative, Mrs. Idiocy. Some would ask, “Why in the world would you take the harder teacher?!”. However, I never regretted my decision to take her class. I actually thanked God every day that I had [taken it], even a month into the school year. All along I knew that the alternative would result in an easy A, but also quite the gap in my English education. Mrs. Lastname’s class prepared me in a way that no alternative could have, and I still use tools that she taught me.
Going through a single day at Hell High School was enough to make a kid want to go home and fret -- and that’s exactly what I did. Was it because of my teachers? Partially. But mostly, even my freshman year, my stress was due to the evil workings of The Beast. The PRINCIPAL of my high school. If It were reading this today (God knows, It probably is), It would chuckle. It would love that It made me unhappy; It would smile! It may do a little dance around a fire with Its Spawn not far behind. I don’t know what kind of rituals The Beast practices, but I know It makes it Its prerogative to make the lives of good people miserable.
One of those good people was Mrs. Lastname. She taught Shakespeare without missing a beat; every student understood Romeo and Juliet. She drilled grammar into our noggins until we could quote every participle form of every irregular verb diligently. But for some strange, strange reason, The Beast took delight in making Mrs. Lastname miserable. I’ve learned much more extensively over the years just how awful It really was to my favorite teacher, but I knew enough just my freshman year to get worked up and write a letter to the school board.
Now, here’s where I find this saga to be so ironic, and truthfully, quite sad. I wrote the letter that is now included in The Beast: Part 13, not yet knowing 95 percent of what actually occurred. A couple of my buddies had ridden to a sports event with The Beast at some point during the heat of the mass chaos Mrs. Lastname was experiencing, and The Beast (being the unprofessional, above-the-law albatross that It is) shared some confidential information with said buddies. She told them, “Mrs. Lastname is a worthless teacher and you should be so glad that I didn’t allow you two to take her class. But don’t worry, she won’t be around next year to mess anything up.”
Now, any respectable human being should see the shame and illegality of the aforementioned statement. It was not only unprofessional, tasteless, and immature, but it was downright unnecessary. Why did It need to tell these 15-year-old boys how It felt about Mrs. Lastname? What was Its prerogative? I’ll never know. What’s more frightening, however, is that upon examining this statement, one should be angered by more than the mere fact that It said such things to students of the high school which It ruled, that It shared privileged information.... But this statement proves that It actually had the gall to hand-pick Its favorite students (friends of Its Spawn), and insist that they not take Mrs. Lastname as a teacher the summer before they even entered high school. It undermined the staff, over-abused Its power (yet again), and set those students up to believe for the rest of their high school careers that they were “special” and “taken-care-of.” It’s disgusting.
This is the first piece of information that I had upon writing the letter. The second, was also a trivial piece of information in the grand scheme of things, come to find out. I was simply told by a friend that she had substantial evidence that Mrs. Lastname had been forced to resign and that the entire situation was against her will. Period. I had already heard enough at this premature point, and proceeded to type out what I was determined to use not only put The Beast to sleep, to put It in Its place, but to save Mrs. Lastname at the same time. She didn’t deserve it, and come to find out she suffered so much more. It simply wasn’t fair.
The day finally came for me to read my letter before the board, and I was quite nervous. After all, I’d still three years of high school to endure before I was out of there. But I'll never regret my decision. It was the most liberating experience, seeing those 70ish signatures embody into a group of supporters as I walked in to read my statement. It was the most amazing feeling to experience that support. Support for me became support for Mrs. Lastname, and vice versa. It was SO worth it.
Sure, I was nervous. What if The Beast found out? What if It went on to target me next? Oh, and did It ever. Until my junior year, at the end of which I would finally leave Hell High School for a “normal” high school experience, It turned to me in every way possible. It went to great lengths -- and succeeded -- in fudging my GPA so that Its Spawn could be valedictorian instead of me. And in that aspect, It sure won. Whoopie, Its Spawn has a nice lookin’ GPA from Podunk Hell High School, but absent from the bubble of HHS will likely never make it as anything more than a pretty face and an empty mind.But what do I have? I have a 3.989 GPA and a diploma from an ACCREDITED high school that just-so-happens to be the largest, most prestigious public high school in the state of Missouri.
Best of all? I’m out. And Mrs. Lastname is out. And The Beast is still there. Though It's no longer in full power, It has procured Itself a nice support group of superintendents, board members, and other Hell High School staff so that It may continue Its shenanigans in peace and without resistance. It's yet to be stopped, sure. But meh, Hell High School deserves her. In the mean time, we who escaped are living our lives without misery, stress, or constant ridicule. And I’d venture to say that we’re quite happy.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Beast: Monty
Throughout the year I'd got to know Monty, and I enjoyed having him in my class. He was a front-row kid. The first one done with tests. The only one excited about Shakespeare. The best writer in his hour. A kid who cared about grammar. He was also a rules-stickler, and even came up with a "secret code" for when students were texting while I was teaching. I could have my back to the class, hear his cue, and proclaim, "PUT IT AWAY. If I see you texting again it's mine." Blew their minds ;) Obviously he became a bit of a teacher's pet, though I despise the term. I prefer model citizen and exceptional student of literature and writing.
When Monty showed me the letter, I was nearly speechless. I was honored that he and his fellow classmates would stand up for me like that. It was bitter-sweet, though, because I knew what this meant. It meant he was going up against The Beast, and It would hold a grudge and likely start a vendetta against Monty, someone undeserving of such persecution. There were even students who refused to sign the letter, fearful that just having their name on the document would bring them Its wrath.
I asked Monty who told The Beast that I was worthless, as he mentioned in the letter, and he admitted to me that one of those people was his very good friend. I was worried at what this might bring for him, and even more-so when I found out he would be presenting his letter to the board, and would be speaking on behalf of all the students who signed, as well as answering any questions they may have. He was just a kid. Barely fifteen. It was a lot.
You'll read about the board meeting later this week, but I wanted to give you a little more information on my take-a-stand student, Monty, because tomorrow he will reveal his identity and post in a guest-spot, giving you his perspective of the events that shaped that year.
He did not know at the time, most of the things you've learned in this series. I did enlighten him some in the following years, when all was said and done, as to just how bad it was, but this has been the first time that anyone has known many of these tales. After reading several of these posts, he's contacted me, appalled at how deep the iceberg was, only the tip of which he'd seen prior to this.
Monty had suffered at the hand of The Beast, too. I didn't know it at the time, but looking back I see what courage it must have taken for him to stand against It. Already persecuted, he stuck his neck out in my honor, and though the guillotine didn't drop immediately, he soon found himself in The Beast's Death Camp.
Come back tomorrow so you can read first-hand what Monty saw, how he perceived me, The Beast, and the situation, and what he's doing now as a senior.
When Monty showed me the letter, I was nearly speechless. I was honored that he and his fellow classmates would stand up for me like that. It was bitter-sweet, though, because I knew what this meant. It meant he was going up against The Beast, and It would hold a grudge and likely start a vendetta against Monty, someone undeserving of such persecution. There were even students who refused to sign the letter, fearful that just having their name on the document would bring them Its wrath.
I asked Monty who told The Beast that I was worthless, as he mentioned in the letter, and he admitted to me that one of those people was his very good friend. I was worried at what this might bring for him, and even more-so when I found out he would be presenting his letter to the board, and would be speaking on behalf of all the students who signed, as well as answering any questions they may have. He was just a kid. Barely fifteen. It was a lot.
You'll read about the board meeting later this week, but I wanted to give you a little more information on my take-a-stand student, Monty, because tomorrow he will reveal his identity and post in a guest-spot, giving you his perspective of the events that shaped that year.
He did not know at the time, most of the things you've learned in this series. I did enlighten him some in the following years, when all was said and done, as to just how bad it was, but this has been the first time that anyone has known many of these tales. After reading several of these posts, he's contacted me, appalled at how deep the iceberg was, only the tip of which he'd seen prior to this.
Monty had suffered at the hand of The Beast, too. I didn't know it at the time, but looking back I see what courage it must have taken for him to stand against It. Already persecuted, he stuck his neck out in my honor, and though the guillotine didn't drop immediately, he soon found himself in The Beast's Death Camp.
Come back tomorrow so you can read first-hand what Monty saw, how he perceived me, The Beast, and the situation, and what he's doing now as a senior.
Friday, April 29, 2011
The Beast: Part 13
I was sick for a couple of days, and obviously I don't remember if it was physical, but I can assure you I needed the mental break. What I DO remember, is coming back to school on Monday. I had a plethora of other things going on in my life at that time, and I was having NO LUCK finding any openings within driving distance. Being Monday, I came in sad and defeated as usual.
On top of that, my students were up to something. They were whispering, looking at me, and snickering. I realize I'm the adult, but I am still affected when I feel like people are talking about me. I ignored it most of the day, but by the end of the day it had escalated.
"What's going on?" I finally asked Monty, one of my students who would ALWAYS tell me, even when it made the others angry. He looked at a girl across the room and said, "Should we tell her?"
"It's up to you," she said.
"You're telling me. What." I demanded.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his notebook and handed it to me.
"What's this?" I asked, noticing student names all around the margins. He just smiled. I read it to myself:
Dear Hell R-IX Board Members,
This letter is referring to the recent resignation of Mrs. Lastname. We believe that she was pressured to resign and we want to make it known that we are very upset that she may not be teaching at our school next year.
We have been told by students that The Beast said to them, "Mrs. Lastname is a worthless teacher," and that they should not choose her for their English teacher. A large number of the student body find Mrs. Lastname to be the best English teacher they have ever had. Mrs. Lastname treats everyone in her classroom fairly. She upholds the classroom rules, and even some of us that are signing this letter have been given disciplinary action which we deserved. We have never heard a complaint, and ahve no complaints about how Mrs. Lastname handles her classroom. the students who wish to learn and put time forth have been taught exceptionally. The students that do not care, she has tried her hardest to get interested, but they've refused her help. Her class is sometimes the only thing we look forward to in a day.
We have also heard from many other freshman students who are not in her class that they would prefer to have Mrs. Lastname instead of Ms. Idiocy. All of the students have enjoyed having her as a teacher and will miss her dearly should she resign. This would be a devastating loss for Hell High School. If she is to resign, we request that this letter be put in her personal record, to give her help in acquiring a future job.
The following signatures on the bottom of this paper represent all of the studnts who agree and testify to this letter. We hope that something positive will come from this for Mrs. Lastname. Thank you for taking the time to consider this letter.
Signed,
Concerned Students of HHS
Seventy students signed the petition. It never got to the junior class, so that meant that pretty much all my students, and some who were not my students, had signed the petition. Tears formed in my eyes.
"I can't believe you guys did this," I said.
"We're taking it to the board meeting," he told me. "I know you said resigning was your decision, but after some of the things we've heard It has said, we think It pressured you to resign." I was floored. Here I was, giving up, and these kids were banding together behind me, motivating me, pushing me forward, putting their own necks on the line (It WOULD punish them in Its own way were It given the opportunity), and were trying to save my job.
I talked excessively with the assistant superintendent. She told me that she'd like for me to ask for my resignation back. With the student presentation and the documentation I'd already submitted, she thought there was a strong chance they'd ignore Its recommendation not to rehire me.
I refused.
I wanted the last say, and I'd already gained so much relief from letting the situation go.
"There are sixty two people on the list to attend the closed-session," she told me.
"I support what the kids are doing," I told her, "but I would be punished for that if I did get to stay," I confided.
"Well, the board can also choose not to accept your letter, so maybe we will just see what happens," she told me with a wink. "I think if you can just stick it out ONE more year, things might change," she said. She wouldn't elaborate, but she had me believing The Beast would soon be out of power [it turned out she was right, but it was two years before The Beast dug Its own grave, and even then It never left the district].
I decided to let my letter stand, but I decided I would support the kids in their endeavor and attend the board meeting. Before I knew it, the whole school was talking about it. The students who wrote it were telling their story, and there were tons of people who had signed up to attend the special session, and others who planned to come to the general meeting. It was spreading like wildfire, and even into the community.
Parents of the concerned students had got on board. Before I knew it I had the support of my church members and the FCA group as well as the adult FCA. They were all behind me, none of them TRULY aware of what I had suffered, but all of them knowing in some way, The Beast was wrong and needed to be stopped. The upcoming board meeting was going to be the starting point for everyone. Some truly only cared about me, some had suffered by It before and wanted justice, some knew It needed to be stopped completely, but all were lined up and ready for battle AGAINST The Beast. For the first time all year I wasn't alone.
Is this your first time reading The Beast series? You better start from the beginning! Click HERE to catch up.
On top of that, my students were up to something. They were whispering, looking at me, and snickering. I realize I'm the adult, but I am still affected when I feel like people are talking about me. I ignored it most of the day, but by the end of the day it had escalated.
"What's going on?" I finally asked Monty, one of my students who would ALWAYS tell me, even when it made the others angry. He looked at a girl across the room and said, "Should we tell her?"
"It's up to you," she said.
"You're telling me. What." I demanded.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his notebook and handed it to me.
"What's this?" I asked, noticing student names all around the margins. He just smiled. I read it to myself:
Dear Hell R-IX Board Members,
This letter is referring to the recent resignation of Mrs. Lastname. We believe that she was pressured to resign and we want to make it known that we are very upset that she may not be teaching at our school next year.
We have been told by students that The Beast said to them, "Mrs. Lastname is a worthless teacher," and that they should not choose her for their English teacher. A large number of the student body find Mrs. Lastname to be the best English teacher they have ever had. Mrs. Lastname treats everyone in her classroom fairly. She upholds the classroom rules, and even some of us that are signing this letter have been given disciplinary action which we deserved. We have never heard a complaint, and ahve no complaints about how Mrs. Lastname handles her classroom. the students who wish to learn and put time forth have been taught exceptionally. The students that do not care, she has tried her hardest to get interested, but they've refused her help. Her class is sometimes the only thing we look forward to in a day.
We have also heard from many other freshman students who are not in her class that they would prefer to have Mrs. Lastname instead of Ms. Idiocy. All of the students have enjoyed having her as a teacher and will miss her dearly should she resign. This would be a devastating loss for Hell High School. If she is to resign, we request that this letter be put in her personal record, to give her help in acquiring a future job.
The following signatures on the bottom of this paper represent all of the studnts who agree and testify to this letter. We hope that something positive will come from this for Mrs. Lastname. Thank you for taking the time to consider this letter.
Signed,
Concerned Students of HHS
Seventy students signed the petition. It never got to the junior class, so that meant that pretty much all my students, and some who were not my students, had signed the petition. Tears formed in my eyes.
"I can't believe you guys did this," I said.
"We're taking it to the board meeting," he told me. "I know you said resigning was your decision, but after some of the things we've heard It has said, we think It pressured you to resign." I was floored. Here I was, giving up, and these kids were banding together behind me, motivating me, pushing me forward, putting their own necks on the line (It WOULD punish them in Its own way were It given the opportunity), and were trying to save my job.
I talked excessively with the assistant superintendent. She told me that she'd like for me to ask for my resignation back. With the student presentation and the documentation I'd already submitted, she thought there was a strong chance they'd ignore Its recommendation not to rehire me.
I refused.
I wanted the last say, and I'd already gained so much relief from letting the situation go.
"There are sixty two people on the list to attend the closed-session," she told me.
"I support what the kids are doing," I told her, "but I would be punished for that if I did get to stay," I confided.
"Well, the board can also choose not to accept your letter, so maybe we will just see what happens," she told me with a wink. "I think if you can just stick it out ONE more year, things might change," she said. She wouldn't elaborate, but she had me believing The Beast would soon be out of power [it turned out she was right, but it was two years before The Beast dug Its own grave, and even then It never left the district].
I decided to let my letter stand, but I decided I would support the kids in their endeavor and attend the board meeting. Before I knew it, the whole school was talking about it. The students who wrote it were telling their story, and there were tons of people who had signed up to attend the special session, and others who planned to come to the general meeting. It was spreading like wildfire, and even into the community.
Parents of the concerned students had got on board. Before I knew it I had the support of my church members and the FCA group as well as the adult FCA. They were all behind me, none of them TRULY aware of what I had suffered, but all of them knowing in some way, The Beast was wrong and needed to be stopped. The upcoming board meeting was going to be the starting point for everyone. Some truly only cared about me, some had suffered by It before and wanted justice, some knew It needed to be stopped completely, but all were lined up and ready for battle AGAINST The Beast. For the first time all year I wasn't alone.
Is this your first time reading The Beast series? You better start from the beginning! Click HERE to catch up.
A Mini-Van, Bad Dates, and True Love
It's Friday again :) My baby girl "graduates" from pre-school today! Can you believe that???!!! I can't! I'm gonna be all "big mama" though and not bawl like a baby. I'm happy for her. She's learned so much and done so well this year! I'm proud of my baby girl, and I know she will do great in "big kid school" next year.
Anyway, to distract me from that, let's get on to Five Question Friday, mmk?
1. If you could buy any car, money not an option, what would it be?
I know this is going to make me totally "old" and "uncool," but I'd SO get a brand-new [wait foooooorrrrr iiiiiiiiiit....] mini-van. I know I only have one kid! I KNOW! But how nice it would be to sometimes strap that one kid in the BACK with a DVD and actually LISTEN to the radio :) Oh and have lots of room for trips and stuff, too. But I'd still keep my car, and not be completely confined to said mini-van.
2. What was your worst first date ever?
Well, probably my date with Wally as seen in "A Tale of Two Prom Dates," which is a must-read if you haven't read it. But sicne I've already elaborated in great detail about that horrific date, I will tell you about my runner-up.
It wasn't really a date in MY opinion. There was a lady from my church trying to set me up with this kid she knew, but it just wasn't happening. I didn't like him "like that," and thought that we were cool being "just friends" who hung out at church and stuff. Well this guy asked me if I wanted to go see Titanic with him. [I also have trouble telling people no]. I kinda wanted to see it, and figured it'd be something to do at least. So we planned to go on Saturday night.
Well Friday night I stayed with my BFF. We were out late that night, chasing boys and sipping Sonic slushies, and then in the middle of the night some boys showed up andbroke snuck into her house. They were a bit intoxicated, and had no good judgment whatsoever. We tried desperately to get them out, and amidst the comotion, BFF's mama woke up and found said boys in her bedroom with FOUR of us girls. Not in "that" way, but still. Mama no likey. We were all up all night long.
I worked at the soda fountain all the next day, then was supposed to go to the movies that night. The time came, and mydate friend picked me up. We went straight to the theater in a neighboring town, and on the way he said something about "our first date." GULP.
You've seen Titanic, right? The first thirty minutes is a little less than exciting. Combine that with being up all night, having worked all day, and being with someone I was less than excited about and that, my friends, equals unconsciousness. I slept through most of the movie, in fifteen minute intervals, waking when something loud was happening. I thought I had hid my snoozing well, but at the end of the movie he said, "You missed the best part!" I argued that I'd seen it, but he wasn't buying. Then after all that excruciating time, he insisted we go out to eat.
I listened while he talked. And talked. And talked. FINALLY we headed home, and I ducked out of his car as fast as I could, praying he'd never ask me to do anything again after the horrendous "first date." Spoiler: he kept trying.
3. How old were you when you fell in love for the first time?
"I was just seventeen, and you know what I mean...."
I was sure I was head-over-heels in love with "Doug," (who I wrote about on the 'first real date' question) I was crazy about him in that way where you can't think, can't eat, and just wanna be together all the time. We had a short-lived romance, though, and years later I realized I had been infatuated with him and in love with the idea of him more than in love with him as a person.
You might not wanna believe me, but I truly believe I never knew what being IN LOVE was like until I met my Mister. I loved the people I had relationships with. There was sometimes attraction, and sometimes deep caring love, but I was never really IN LOVE until I met him. I never had that crazy combination of loving someone more than anything, caring about their well-being and their future, as well as being insanely in love with them and having chemistry and attraction. I never believed people were "meant to be," until I met him and JUST KNEW it was him. So the mushy puke-in-your-mouth-a-little answer would be that I was 28. But we can stick with my first puppy love if you want :)
I wouldn't find that again until I met my Mister more than ten years later :) Aww. We're in love. <3
4. When was the last time you reconciled your checkbook?
It's not that hard to do when the bank statement says you have 52.00 and you look at your check book and you do, indeed, have 52.00. The only thing I use MY checkbook for is my car payment and insurance, so I keep track of it pretty well. When I was in charge of a family account, though, I reconciled it every month. I've always been in a situation where every penny counts, and we have to make sure we know exactly how much we have so we don't over-spend.
5. If you were going to fashion a "Wanted" Ad for a best friend, how would you word it?
30 year-old mommy with a 21 year-old mentality seeks BFF. Must be accepting, loving, and understanding. Must not expect telephone calls, but should be active texter and e-mailer. Must lovegood bad food and good movies. Must not diet or exercise. Spouse and/or children optional. Must be fun, loving, and willing to let me be myself; never mothering me even if she thinks I need it. BFF should support me in all endeavors, and never EVER say "I told you so," ever.
But why would I do that when I have one just like it? :)
Anyway, to distract me from that, let's get on to Five Question Friday, mmk?
1. If you could buy any car, money not an option, what would it be?
I know this is going to make me totally "old" and "uncool," but I'd SO get a brand-new [wait foooooorrrrr iiiiiiiiiit....] mini-van. I know I only have one kid! I KNOW! But how nice it would be to sometimes strap that one kid in the BACK with a DVD and actually LISTEN to the radio :) Oh and have lots of room for trips and stuff, too. But I'd still keep my car, and not be completely confined to said mini-van.
2. What was your worst first date ever?
Well, probably my date with Wally as seen in "A Tale of Two Prom Dates," which is a must-read if you haven't read it. But sicne I've already elaborated in great detail about that horrific date, I will tell you about my runner-up.
It wasn't really a date in MY opinion. There was a lady from my church trying to set me up with this kid she knew, but it just wasn't happening. I didn't like him "like that," and thought that we were cool being "just friends" who hung out at church and stuff. Well this guy asked me if I wanted to go see Titanic with him. [I also have trouble telling people no]. I kinda wanted to see it, and figured it'd be something to do at least. So we planned to go on Saturday night.
Well Friday night I stayed with my BFF. We were out late that night, chasing boys and sipping Sonic slushies, and then in the middle of the night some boys showed up and
I worked at the soda fountain all the next day, then was supposed to go to the movies that night. The time came, and my
You've seen Titanic, right? The first thirty minutes is a little less than exciting. Combine that with being up all night, having worked all day, and being with someone I was less than excited about and that, my friends, equals unconsciousness. I slept through most of the movie, in fifteen minute intervals, waking when something loud was happening. I thought I had hid my snoozing well, but at the end of the movie he said, "You missed the best part!" I argued that I'd seen it, but he wasn't buying. Then after all that excruciating time, he insisted we go out to eat.
I listened while he talked. And talked. And talked. FINALLY we headed home, and I ducked out of his car as fast as I could, praying he'd never ask me to do anything again after the horrendous "first date." Spoiler: he kept trying.
3. How old were you when you fell in love for the first time?
"I was just seventeen, and you know what I mean...."
I was sure I was head-over-heels in love with "Doug," (who I wrote about on the 'first real date' question) I was crazy about him in that way where you can't think, can't eat, and just wanna be together all the time. We had a short-lived romance, though, and years later I realized I had been infatuated with him and in love with the idea of him more than in love with him as a person.
You might not wanna believe me, but I truly believe I never knew what being IN LOVE was like until I met my Mister. I loved the people I had relationships with. There was sometimes attraction, and sometimes deep caring love, but I was never really IN LOVE until I met him. I never had that crazy combination of loving someone more than anything, caring about their well-being and their future, as well as being insanely in love with them and having chemistry and attraction. I never believed people were "meant to be," until I met him and JUST KNEW it was him. So the mushy puke-in-your-mouth-a-little answer would be that I was 28. But we can stick with my first puppy love if you want :)
I wouldn't find that again until I met my Mister more than ten years later :) Aww. We're in love. <3
4. When was the last time you reconciled your checkbook?
It's not that hard to do when the bank statement says you have 52.00 and you look at your check book and you do, indeed, have 52.00. The only thing I use MY checkbook for is my car payment and insurance, so I keep track of it pretty well. When I was in charge of a family account, though, I reconciled it every month. I've always been in a situation where every penny counts, and we have to make sure we know exactly how much we have so we don't over-spend.
5. If you were going to fashion a "Wanted" Ad for a best friend, how would you word it?
30 year-old mommy with a 21 year-old mentality seeks BFF. Must be accepting, loving, and understanding. Must not expect telephone calls, but should be active texter and e-mailer. Must love
But why would I do that when I have one just like it? :)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Beast: Part 12
Whew. Do you need to breathe? Have you caught up on all my stories? It's really crucial at this point that you've read all eleven previous posts before you read on. You can't "get it" without doing that. OK? Ok. So here ya go: Read up.
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Ms Idiocy
More Ms. Idiocy
6
For those of you who have done your homework, you can now read on.
I went home after the meeting and typed my resignation. As much as it killed me, I took great joy in typing it out. I wrote between the lines. I made allusions without direct name-calling. I showed off my writing skills. Most of all, I maintained my integrity, and was satisfied with the last piece of my documentation folder.
This is what it said:
I was on a mission to make sure I was the first one. I didn't want teachers whispering about me behind my back. I didn't want students hearing I was "let go." I was in the mindset of needing to have proof of my actions, so I posted the resignation on my blog (at that time...not this one..one to which students did not have access) with this note:
1 7
2 8
3 9
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5 11
Ms Idiocy
More Ms. Idiocy
6
For those of you who have done your homework, you can now read on.
I went home after the meeting and typed my resignation. As much as it killed me, I took great joy in typing it out. I wrote between the lines. I made allusions without direct name-calling. I showed off my writing skills. Most of all, I maintained my integrity, and was satisfied with the last piece of my documentation folder.
This is what it said:
To Whom it May Concern-
At this time I find myself in a place I never thought I would be. Let me first say that I love the Hell R-IX School District This
However, at this time I am unable to continue working at Hell High School
I have tried my best to work with the administration and collaborate with my colleagues. I have put forth every effort to maintain a PLC attitude, but I find, at this time, there is no way I can work past the events that have shaped this year. It has truly been a trying year. There are many things I could say at this point, but I choose to maintain my integrity and character.
Please accept this as my formal resignation from employment at Hell High School
Sincerely,
Andrea Lastname
I was on a mission to make sure I was the first one. I didn't want teachers whispering about me behind my back. I didn't want students hearing I was "let go." I was in the mindset of needing to have proof of my actions, so I posted the resignation on my blog (at that time...not this one..one to which students did not have access) with this note:
This is a copy of the letter I submitted today. Just so you all know and understand it was MY choice, MY decision, not Its. This is all directly related to Beastly Beast and the way It has treated me this year. When my time is up at Hell
I was not mentally prepared to tell the students about my decsion, but I knew I had to do it. I had to be first. I made several copies of my resignation letter that morning before school. I turned in one to The Beast, and the rest I kept in my classroom.
All I remember about those conversations was that I tried to be very vague on my reasoning. Obviously the letter itself gave some suggestions, but the kids were confused. They wanted to know WHY. Was I taking another job? No. Was I moving? No. Then WHY?
I just told them it wasn't working out and that I felt I needed to move on. I promised I would elaborate more after the board accepted my resignation. That was on Tuesday.
On Thursday I left early, and I didn't return until the following Monday. I don't know now why. I may have actually been sick, or I may have just been using my days to ease my poor mental exhaustion. Or Chloe may have been sick. All I know is that I have absent reports for Thursday and Friday that state "Sick leave for self." I didn't go into any reasoning, because what were they going to do? Fire me? That was going to become my complete mindset for the remaining months.
That is an important factor, because what happened while I was gone those two days is really what changed the course of this story. If not for those two absent days, I would likely write one more post about the last days in Hell and be done. However, these days gave more to the story.
So much more, they lead to another post...which leads to another, and another. And those, my friends, are for another day.
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Beast: Part 11
I sat in the chair across from The Beast's desk for what seemed like hours. There was a knot in my throat so big I was sure it was going to choke me. I took a deep breath and swallowed it down, willing myself NOT to let my emotions take over. Promising I could cry when I left, but not a minute before.
I knew It was taking Its time, just to be an ass hole. I tried working on getting my thoughts together. I still didn't know what this was regarding, but I was pretty sure I was going to be punished for not meeting with them at the conference that morning. I was ready with my ammo for that. In the back of my mind I knew I was still fighting an uphill battle, but I was feeling a little better knowing I had some board members, the super intendent, and an MSTA rep in the know. At least I hadn't fought alone.
The only solace I had at that moment was that It went to get Mr. Assistant. He was an ally. He was a church friend. He had tried to work with me, and he saw the discrepencies in the stories. He was confused by them, but he got it. And he was a witness. One I was sure would tell the truth. So It couldn't twist this meeting in any way.
Finally they came in and took their seats. He already had a sympathetic look on his face, which I knew wasn't good. He looked like a spectator at a crucifixion. Like he knew it was coming, and was sorry even though I didn't know what for.
"Well. I just wanted to talk with you and see what you were thinking," It started. I sat staring at It. It was going to have to give me more than that. "What I mean, is are you planning on turning in your resignation before the board meeting this month?" It asked sweetly, as if It wasn't sabotaging me.
"No," I said with confusion in my voice. "I'm not planning on resigning," I told It bluntly.
"Well I know you're unhappy here-" It argued, but I cut It off.
"It's not that I'm unhappy HERE," I corrected, "I'm unhappy with the way I am treated here this year. I loved it here last year, so it's not the school. It's the situation," I said, making my point without directly blaming It.
"Well I know you've been looking at other jobs," It said with a snotty tone. I'm not sure HOW It knew I was looking to this day. It had to have been watching my every move online. The truth is I had been warned this might be coming, and I was seeing what was open.
"Just because I look to see what's available doesn't mean I plan on leaving," I told It. "I always keep my options open. Never know when there might be a better opportunity," I said. It couldn't "fire" me because I looked at other jobs. I hadn't even applied for anything. "I'm very frustrated with the way I have been singled-out this year, so naturally I'm going to look and see if there is a better situation out there for me," I started. I don't know where it all came from, but I figured it was now or never. "All year it's been the same thing. In our meeting just last week you apologized for "the way things had gone," then you turned right around and told Mr. English that you didn't want to renew my contract-behind my back," I confided. Up to that point I had protected Mr. English, not wanting to throw him under the bus, and not wanting It to know he was informing me of all the covert operations. "You tell him I'm not doing a good job, then when I ask you point-blank what I can work on you tell me you don't have concerns," I added. She shook her head in denial and plastered a look of confusion on her face. "I'm tired of you telling me I'm doing fine and don't have any issues, then going behind my back, even to the board meeting, and talking about everything I'm supposedly doing wrong!" I fired off.
"Well, there's a point in itself. No one should know WHAT is said at board meeting, so it concerns me that security has been breached," It expressed.
"YOU TOLD MR. ENGLISH and he told me!" I corrected. True, I had been warned by a board member, but after that Mr. English confirmed that, and got his information straight from The Beast.
"Oh. Well," It was becoming flustered. It hadn't expected me to bring up these points in front of Mr. Assistant, and It hated when someone challenged it or called out Its lie, because It wasn't a fast thinker. "There are plenty of issues we have talked about, Will among them," It argued.
"Another situation that was completely misconstrued," I fought back.
"Andrea I had to UNLOCK your door to find you two in the corner together!" It tried to keep Its voice down, but I could tell It was losing patience.
"That's not true. There were other kids in the room. I have signed statements from EVERYONE who was in there that day, who saw you come in, and were there when you left," I told It. It simply shook Its head in denial. It continued the conversation, though it was evident no one was open to hearing my side of the story, or my point of view. Mr. Assistant even interjected some comments in support of The Beast, even though he didn't know first-hand about ANY of the situations. I just looked at him like, "How could you?" Silence would have been better than anything.
Finally It dropped the bomb. "I'm not going to renew your contract," It said, as if pulling out the big guns.
"Fine. That's your perrogative. You go right ahead. But I'm not going to resign. I want to be here, I love this school, and this is my home. You won't bully me into resigning just because you don't like me," I said frankly. "If I'm not here next year it's going to be all YOUR doing, not mine," I said.
Mr. Assistant interjected. "I don't think you get what It's saying. You won't have a chance to "fight" for your job. It will be done in closed session. The board will ask about renewals, and It will not recommend your renewal. You'll never have the chance to say, 'Well she said,' or 'Well I did,' Really It is doing you a service by giving you the chance to resign," he concluded. I just shook my head at him. In the back of my mind I HOPED that the board members and super intendent might have concerns and stand up for me. After all, it was only Its recommendation. The board had the power to vote however they chose to.
"Well what a service," I said snidely. "You know, I'm not hard to work with. I always do everything I am asked. I have taught three years now, and worked in schools for years before this, and I have never ONCE had any problem with any administrator," I said.
She then began reading things off the eight million evaluations she'd done. Most of them were walk-throughs, so I didn't get to sign them or even see half of them.
"I know what they say," I said. "I just find it ironic I've never had negative evaluations until now. Mr. Boss didn't seem to have these concerns," I said.
"You think Bob Boss didn't have concerns?" she scoffed.
"Oh I know he had concerns, but I knew immediately what they were. He was in my room many times saying, 'you know I think you could do better with this, what can we do to work on it?' He always addressed his concerns with me, and I always worked to correct or strengthen anything he brought to my attention. He and I worked together to create a discipline plan for a difficult class, and we worked out a rough schedule I still use today to keep the kids busy and moving throughout the hour. He didn't tell me 'good job,' then go stab me in the back," I said, more to Mr. Assistant than to The Beast. Just to let him know he had no business having a position in this conversation because he had NO IDEA about any of it.
She began reading again from her evaluations.
"There's no need to read them!" I raised my voice. "I know what they say, and I disagree with a lot of it. I signed them not knowing I had the option NOT to. Some of them have blatant bold-faced lies in them, like the one where you said no student work displayed, when there was a bulletin board at the front of the room with student work on it."
"Are you calling me a LIAR!?!?" It roared. I wanted to just say, "Uh, yeah." but I didn't.
"I didn't call you a liar. But it's clear that your perception of what happened is VERY different from what I saw in most situations, and I have other people who can vouch for me," I told It.
"Well, it's very clear you don't support me as principal and you never will, therefore you really have no business here." It said so definitely.
"It's not my JOB to support you, it's your job to support ME as one of your teachers and work with me to help me be the best, not work against me because you have some personal vendetta," I said cooly. BAM. I felt like I had put It in Its place if nothing else.
Mr. Assistant looked shocked.
"I think what Its saying is that if you think It is 'out to get you' as you put it, that relationship is never going to be mended, and we need to look at what's best for everyone involved, especially the students," he chimed in. I wanted to punch him. I had the advantage of intelligence over It, and here he was helping It think. He turned to The Beast. "I thought things were better after the meeting a couple of weeks ago [sorry, that should be a post, but I have NO recollection of that meeting whatsoever. The best I can gather is we had a meeting in which The Beast apologized and wanted to start fresh, but told Mr. English immediately after that It would not renew me], but then when I brought it up to Andrea at church last week it seemed there were still underlying issues," he added. I gave him the death look. How dare he. I remember the moment all too well....
We had just had our meeting the week before, but on Friday Mr. English confided to me that The Beast told him immediately after the meeting It was not going to renew me. I was still dealing with all the issues from school, but found comfort in my Sundays at church. That particular Sunday I'd come in and sat down just before my mom came in. Chloe was with me, and we were getting situated in the pew when Mr. Assistant came over to greet us.
"Hey, how's it going?" he asked.
"Ok I guess," I said.
"Seems like things are going a lot better with The Beast since the meeting, huh?" he asked. I couldn't hold back the tears. Sundays were hard for me anyway, knowing I had a full week ahead of me, and here he was bringing up school, and reminding me of the back-stabber and Its plot to take me down. Tears filled my eyes and I walked away. He never apologized, never said another word. He simply went back to his seat, and I sat through church crying, wondering what I was going to do, where I was going to find a job if I lost this one, and wondering how I was going to make ends meet if I didn't find one.
"I don't think anything we discuss at church has any place in this room," I threatened. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. He had an "oops" look on his face.
The two of them continued arguing and pressing the "non-team player" issue, and twisting situations until I couldn't take it anymore.
"FINE!" I said, pushing my chair back hard. "I don't want to work another minute for you, anyway," I said. "You'll have my resignation TOMORROW!" I said, slamming the door behind me. Tears flooded my face, and I noticed the office staff staring. I didn't care. I had NOTHING to lose now, and I planned to tell my story. I knew I had to keep quiet for a few more weeks, because I needed to try to get another job, but after that the gloves were coming off.
I went to see my mom and left quickly. I went home and typed my resignation. I wanted to make sure it was clear The Beast didn't fire me, that I was quitting. I wanted to make sure It couldn't twist ONE. MORE. THING. in my life. After a year of turmoil and fighting with every fiber of my being to keep this job, I suddenly felt so free. Like a drowning person who finally stops fighting and lets go, peacefully crossing over from life to death.
I had no idea, though, that someone would jump in after me just at the last minute, or that "paramedics" would work on me for hours, trying to bring life to my situation once again. But that's for another day :)
I knew It was taking Its time, just to be an ass hole. I tried working on getting my thoughts together. I still didn't know what this was regarding, but I was pretty sure I was going to be punished for not meeting with them at the conference that morning. I was ready with my ammo for that. In the back of my mind I knew I was still fighting an uphill battle, but I was feeling a little better knowing I had some board members, the super intendent, and an MSTA rep in the know. At least I hadn't fought alone.
The only solace I had at that moment was that It went to get Mr. Assistant. He was an ally. He was a church friend. He had tried to work with me, and he saw the discrepencies in the stories. He was confused by them, but he got it. And he was a witness. One I was sure would tell the truth. So It couldn't twist this meeting in any way.
Finally they came in and took their seats. He already had a sympathetic look on his face, which I knew wasn't good. He looked like a spectator at a crucifixion. Like he knew it was coming, and was sorry even though I didn't know what for.
"Well. I just wanted to talk with you and see what you were thinking," It started. I sat staring at It. It was going to have to give me more than that. "What I mean, is are you planning on turning in your resignation before the board meeting this month?" It asked sweetly, as if It wasn't sabotaging me.
"No," I said with confusion in my voice. "I'm not planning on resigning," I told It bluntly.
"Well I know you're unhappy here-" It argued, but I cut It off.
"It's not that I'm unhappy HERE," I corrected, "I'm unhappy with the way I am treated here this year. I loved it here last year, so it's not the school. It's the situation," I said, making my point without directly blaming It.
"Well I know you've been looking at other jobs," It said with a snotty tone. I'm not sure HOW It knew I was looking to this day. It had to have been watching my every move online. The truth is I had been warned this might be coming, and I was seeing what was open.
"Just because I look to see what's available doesn't mean I plan on leaving," I told It. "I always keep my options open. Never know when there might be a better opportunity," I said. It couldn't "fire" me because I looked at other jobs. I hadn't even applied for anything. "I'm very frustrated with the way I have been singled-out this year, so naturally I'm going to look and see if there is a better situation out there for me," I started. I don't know where it all came from, but I figured it was now or never. "All year it's been the same thing. In our meeting just last week you apologized for "the way things had gone," then you turned right around and told Mr. English that you didn't want to renew my contract-behind my back," I confided. Up to that point I had protected Mr. English, not wanting to throw him under the bus, and not wanting It to know he was informing me of all the covert operations. "You tell him I'm not doing a good job, then when I ask you point-blank what I can work on you tell me you don't have concerns," I added. She shook her head in denial and plastered a look of confusion on her face. "I'm tired of you telling me I'm doing fine and don't have any issues, then going behind my back, even to the board meeting, and talking about everything I'm supposedly doing wrong!" I fired off.
"Well, there's a point in itself. No one should know WHAT is said at board meeting, so it concerns me that security has been breached," It expressed.
"YOU TOLD MR. ENGLISH and he told me!" I corrected. True, I had been warned by a board member, but after that Mr. English confirmed that, and got his information straight from The Beast.
"Oh. Well," It was becoming flustered. It hadn't expected me to bring up these points in front of Mr. Assistant, and It hated when someone challenged it or called out Its lie, because It wasn't a fast thinker. "There are plenty of issues we have talked about, Will among them," It argued.
"Another situation that was completely misconstrued," I fought back.
"Andrea I had to UNLOCK your door to find you two in the corner together!" It tried to keep Its voice down, but I could tell It was losing patience.
"That's not true. There were other kids in the room. I have signed statements from EVERYONE who was in there that day, who saw you come in, and were there when you left," I told It. It simply shook Its head in denial. It continued the conversation, though it was evident no one was open to hearing my side of the story, or my point of view. Mr. Assistant even interjected some comments in support of The Beast, even though he didn't know first-hand about ANY of the situations. I just looked at him like, "How could you?" Silence would have been better than anything.
Finally It dropped the bomb. "I'm not going to renew your contract," It said, as if pulling out the big guns.
"Fine. That's your perrogative. You go right ahead. But I'm not going to resign. I want to be here, I love this school, and this is my home. You won't bully me into resigning just because you don't like me," I said frankly. "If I'm not here next year it's going to be all YOUR doing, not mine," I said.
Mr. Assistant interjected. "I don't think you get what It's saying. You won't have a chance to "fight" for your job. It will be done in closed session. The board will ask about renewals, and It will not recommend your renewal. You'll never have the chance to say, 'Well she said,' or 'Well I did,' Really It is doing you a service by giving you the chance to resign," he concluded. I just shook my head at him. In the back of my mind I HOPED that the board members and super intendent might have concerns and stand up for me. After all, it was only Its recommendation. The board had the power to vote however they chose to.
"Well what a service," I said snidely. "You know, I'm not hard to work with. I always do everything I am asked. I have taught three years now, and worked in schools for years before this, and I have never ONCE had any problem with any administrator," I said.
She then began reading things off the eight million evaluations she'd done. Most of them were walk-throughs, so I didn't get to sign them or even see half of them.
"I know what they say," I said. "I just find it ironic I've never had negative evaluations until now. Mr. Boss didn't seem to have these concerns," I said.
"You think Bob Boss didn't have concerns?" she scoffed.
"Oh I know he had concerns, but I knew immediately what they were. He was in my room many times saying, 'you know I think you could do better with this, what can we do to work on it?' He always addressed his concerns with me, and I always worked to correct or strengthen anything he brought to my attention. He and I worked together to create a discipline plan for a difficult class, and we worked out a rough schedule I still use today to keep the kids busy and moving throughout the hour. He didn't tell me 'good job,' then go stab me in the back," I said, more to Mr. Assistant than to The Beast. Just to let him know he had no business having a position in this conversation because he had NO IDEA about any of it.
She began reading again from her evaluations.
"There's no need to read them!" I raised my voice. "I know what they say, and I disagree with a lot of it. I signed them not knowing I had the option NOT to. Some of them have blatant bold-faced lies in them, like the one where you said no student work displayed, when there was a bulletin board at the front of the room with student work on it."
"Are you calling me a LIAR!?!?" It roared. I wanted to just say, "Uh, yeah." but I didn't.
"I didn't call you a liar. But it's clear that your perception of what happened is VERY different from what I saw in most situations, and I have other people who can vouch for me," I told It.
"Well, it's very clear you don't support me as principal and you never will, therefore you really have no business here." It said so definitely.
"It's not my JOB to support you, it's your job to support ME as one of your teachers and work with me to help me be the best, not work against me because you have some personal vendetta," I said cooly. BAM. I felt like I had put It in Its place if nothing else.
Mr. Assistant looked shocked.
"I think what Its saying is that if you think It is 'out to get you' as you put it, that relationship is never going to be mended, and we need to look at what's best for everyone involved, especially the students," he chimed in. I wanted to punch him. I had the advantage of intelligence over It, and here he was helping It think. He turned to The Beast. "I thought things were better after the meeting a couple of weeks ago [sorry, that should be a post, but I have NO recollection of that meeting whatsoever. The best I can gather is we had a meeting in which The Beast apologized and wanted to start fresh, but told Mr. English immediately after that It would not renew me], but then when I brought it up to Andrea at church last week it seemed there were still underlying issues," he added. I gave him the death look. How dare he. I remember the moment all too well....
We had just had our meeting the week before, but on Friday Mr. English confided to me that The Beast told him immediately after the meeting It was not going to renew me. I was still dealing with all the issues from school, but found comfort in my Sundays at church. That particular Sunday I'd come in and sat down just before my mom came in. Chloe was with me, and we were getting situated in the pew when Mr. Assistant came over to greet us.
"Hey, how's it going?" he asked.
"Ok I guess," I said.
"Seems like things are going a lot better with The Beast since the meeting, huh?" he asked. I couldn't hold back the tears. Sundays were hard for me anyway, knowing I had a full week ahead of me, and here he was bringing up school, and reminding me of the back-stabber and Its plot to take me down. Tears filled my eyes and I walked away. He never apologized, never said another word. He simply went back to his seat, and I sat through church crying, wondering what I was going to do, where I was going to find a job if I lost this one, and wondering how I was going to make ends meet if I didn't find one.
"I don't think anything we discuss at church has any place in this room," I threatened. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. He had an "oops" look on his face.
The two of them continued arguing and pressing the "non-team player" issue, and twisting situations until I couldn't take it anymore.
"FINE!" I said, pushing my chair back hard. "I don't want to work another minute for you, anyway," I said. "You'll have my resignation TOMORROW!" I said, slamming the door behind me. Tears flooded my face, and I noticed the office staff staring. I didn't care. I had NOTHING to lose now, and I planned to tell my story. I knew I had to keep quiet for a few more weeks, because I needed to try to get another job, but after that the gloves were coming off.
I went to see my mom and left quickly. I went home and typed my resignation. I wanted to make sure it was clear The Beast didn't fire me, that I was quitting. I wanted to make sure It couldn't twist ONE. MORE. THING. in my life. After a year of turmoil and fighting with every fiber of my being to keep this job, I suddenly felt so free. Like a drowning person who finally stops fighting and lets go, peacefully crossing over from life to death.
I had no idea, though, that someone would jump in after me just at the last minute, or that "paramedics" would work on me for hours, trying to bring life to my situation once again. But that's for another day :)
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Beast: Part 10
I came into school on a Monday morning in late February as I did every Monday. I had cried from the time my alarm went off until the moment before I had to leave the house and put my make-up on. I had wiped away the tears, but my eyes were still red, lids still puffy, and my spirit was crushed before the week had even started.
I opened an e-mail from The Beast that said: "End of Course conference is March 3rd. You WILL attend. It is at CMSU in Warrensburg at 8:00 AM. Ms. Fatbelly will also be going as you two give the EOCs." Ms. Idiocy also gave the EOCs, but maybe by that point The Beast knew she was too stupid to be of any contribution. I don't know. I replied with an agreeable tone and got the information on the conference myself.
I went ahead and printed out directions that morning and got registered. I was a little worried, because I was without a vehicle at that time. I had been riding to work with my mom, and Chloe's dad was driving himself to work in his vehicle. I talked to him to see what we could do, and however it worked out, I made plans to drive his vehicle to the conference. I had to leave at 6:30 am to make it on time, so I wanted to be sure I was covered.
Later that day The Beast asked me to come sign my latest evaluation. It had been one of those "surprise" ones, and It came to my largest class in the middle of research papers. That's a time when the room is usually somewhat chaotic. Everyone is working on the same project but at different speeds, and everyone needs the teacher's attention. I had been sick when It entered the room, worried about what It would find out of place.
The students were very good. They were silent the whole time, and I only had to correct behavior once. I felt so good about the hour.
However, when I got to Its office and read my evaluation I was confused. I read through it, and It had listed the environment as chaotic, said that students were not engaged, and wrote that a student got up and walked out of the room without permission. I had always signed the evaluations quickly just to get away from It, but after talking with my MSTA person I knew I didn't HAVE to sign it if I didn't agree with what It wrote.
"I'm not signing that," I said quietly.
"WHY?" It roared.
"That isn't true," I argued.
It went on to explain that just because the class was quiet didn't mean it was under control. It heard two students whispering about baseball behind it, and heard one student ask another what Mrs. Lastname's problem was today. As if I can control what teenagers whisper to each other at the back of the room.
"Fine. If that's your perspective of that, I'll sign that, but George did NOT walk out of class without permission," I said with finality.
"I SAW HIM," It argued.
"Go get his planner," I challenged. "I give the kids three passes a quarter. They know when they are allowed to use them, and during independent practice is an acceptable time. He asked to use the bathroom and I signed his planner for a hall pass," I said.
"Oh," It became flustered. "Well. I can change that, then," It agreed. I was still PISSED about the rest of it, but I knew I would have to do what I always did. Write my own version of the situation and attach. It reprinted the evaluation with the comment about George erased, and I signed it begrudgingly.
The days passed, and it was time for the conference. I was up and around, got itty bitty Baby Chloe ready for her day, and headed to the University.
I arrived with about ten minutes to spare [as is typical of me], and decided to go on in to the room. I followed the herd, and found the room quickly. I signed the attendance sheet and noticed Ms. Fatbelly wasn't there. I was glad I didn't ride with her. I collected the literature and looked for a place to sit.
I immediately saw a principal from a neighboring district who I went to church with, and he was seated with a principal from a district where I'd done a maternity leave a couple years earlier. I sat with them and took notes as the conference began.
At about 8:20 there was a ruckus at the door, which was at the back of the room. There was giggling and whispering as a group of women entered the room. The speaker stopped. Everyone turned around. I was appalled as I saw the group enter the room. The posse? Ms. Fatbelly, Ms. Business, Ms. Math, and Ms. Careerplanning...followed by....THE BEAST.
Mr. Principal leaned over, "Isn't that your group?" he asked with a grin.
"Yeah," I said, embarrassed that these werechildren adults from my school. I was kind of irritated that I hadn't known all these people were coming, and that they all rode together, something that would have made my home situation much easier had I known. On the other hand, I was glad I had been on time and didn't have to associate with their junior-high-esque behavior.
Ms. Business caught my eye about half-way through the conversation and waved at me. I smiled and waved back discreetly. I didn't want to be associated with their rude behavior.
The conference was short. The state hadn't got the test ready in time for this conference (IMAGINE!), so the lady answered some questions, and we were out of there before ten. I stayed in the conference room for about fifteen minutes and visited with the principals at my table, then talked to a counselor by the door. The ridiculous group from my school was in the corner whispering and giggling. I collected my things and headed home, glad to have some time to decompress.
I was about ten minutes from home (so combined with the 15 minutes I stayed after, and the five minutes in the drive-through, it was an hour and forty five minutes after the conference had ended) when I had a call on my cell. It was an odd number, so I answered. I didn't know who it was, but my gut seemed to know, beecause it was churning.
"Hi, this is The Beast," it greeted coldly.
"Hello," I responded.
"I didn't even know you were AT the conference today," It said. I wanted to tell It if It had been on time It might have known, but I kept my mouth shut. "We are all going to the Country Kitchen to discuss what we learned. Will you join us?" It asked. I also wanted to tell It they couldn't have learned much since they missed the first twenty minutes of a two hour conference and the test wasn't even ready yet, but I simply told the basic truth.
"I'm already to Lincoln," I said, "I can't turn around and come back now." There was NO WAY.
I was fuming. I couldn't beliebe It had the nerve to say It didn't know I was there. It MADE me go. I know It made sure I WAS there, because It would like nothing more than for me to have missed it so It could tattle on me.
I went to my friend's house and bawled my eyes out. I told her the whole situation this time, and she let me wallow on her couch. We started a movie and I had just about cried myself to sleep when my phone rang. It was the school. I hoped it was my mom.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hey this is The Beast. I need you to come out to my office right away," It demanded.
"OK," I agreed. My gut was in knots. I knew it wasn't going to be good. I was sick to my stomach and just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I was past the point of being able to handle the constant harassment and bullying. I was tired of doing the right thing all the time only to be punished for it. I was broken before I even got to the school.
I went into the office where the secretary greeted me.
"Whatcha need, Andrea?" She asked.
"The Beast wanted to see me?" I questioned. It was nowhere in sight. I sat outside the office for about ten minutes when It finally arrived.
"Go on in," It said with cold death in Its eyes. "I'm waiting on Mr. Assistant to join us," It said. It then went on acting like a pre-teen, bragging to one of Its spawn that It could wear Little Its clothes, and was sporting Little Its shoes, giggling like a school-girl.
Finally Mr. Assistant arrived, and what would transpire in that meeting would blind-side me and change my life forever...
I opened an e-mail from The Beast that said: "End of Course conference is March 3rd. You WILL attend. It is at CMSU in Warrensburg at 8:00 AM. Ms. Fatbelly will also be going as you two give the EOCs." Ms. Idiocy also gave the EOCs, but maybe by that point The Beast knew she was too stupid to be of any contribution. I don't know. I replied with an agreeable tone and got the information on the conference myself.
I went ahead and printed out directions that morning and got registered. I was a little worried, because I was without a vehicle at that time. I had been riding to work with my mom, and Chloe's dad was driving himself to work in his vehicle. I talked to him to see what we could do, and however it worked out, I made plans to drive his vehicle to the conference. I had to leave at 6:30 am to make it on time, so I wanted to be sure I was covered.
Later that day The Beast asked me to come sign my latest evaluation. It had been one of those "surprise" ones, and It came to my largest class in the middle of research papers. That's a time when the room is usually somewhat chaotic. Everyone is working on the same project but at different speeds, and everyone needs the teacher's attention. I had been sick when It entered the room, worried about what It would find out of place.
The students were very good. They were silent the whole time, and I only had to correct behavior once. I felt so good about the hour.
However, when I got to Its office and read my evaluation I was confused. I read through it, and It had listed the environment as chaotic, said that students were not engaged, and wrote that a student got up and walked out of the room without permission. I had always signed the evaluations quickly just to get away from It, but after talking with my MSTA person I knew I didn't HAVE to sign it if I didn't agree with what It wrote.
"I'm not signing that," I said quietly.
"WHY?" It roared.
"That isn't true," I argued.
It went on to explain that just because the class was quiet didn't mean it was under control. It heard two students whispering about baseball behind it, and heard one student ask another what Mrs. Lastname's problem was today. As if I can control what teenagers whisper to each other at the back of the room.
"Fine. If that's your perspective of that, I'll sign that, but George did NOT walk out of class without permission," I said with finality.
"I SAW HIM," It argued.
"Go get his planner," I challenged. "I give the kids three passes a quarter. They know when they are allowed to use them, and during independent practice is an acceptable time. He asked to use the bathroom and I signed his planner for a hall pass," I said.
"Oh," It became flustered. "Well. I can change that, then," It agreed. I was still PISSED about the rest of it, but I knew I would have to do what I always did. Write my own version of the situation and attach. It reprinted the evaluation with the comment about George erased, and I signed it begrudgingly.
The days passed, and it was time for the conference. I was up and around, got itty bitty Baby Chloe ready for her day, and headed to the University.
I arrived with about ten minutes to spare [as is typical of me], and decided to go on in to the room. I followed the herd, and found the room quickly. I signed the attendance sheet and noticed Ms. Fatbelly wasn't there. I was glad I didn't ride with her. I collected the literature and looked for a place to sit.
I immediately saw a principal from a neighboring district who I went to church with, and he was seated with a principal from a district where I'd done a maternity leave a couple years earlier. I sat with them and took notes as the conference began.
At about 8:20 there was a ruckus at the door, which was at the back of the room. There was giggling and whispering as a group of women entered the room. The speaker stopped. Everyone turned around. I was appalled as I saw the group enter the room. The posse? Ms. Fatbelly, Ms. Business, Ms. Math, and Ms. Careerplanning...followed by....THE BEAST.
Mr. Principal leaned over, "Isn't that your group?" he asked with a grin.
"Yeah," I said, embarrassed that these were
Ms. Business caught my eye about half-way through the conversation and waved at me. I smiled and waved back discreetly. I didn't want to be associated with their rude behavior.
The conference was short. The state hadn't got the test ready in time for this conference (IMAGINE!), so the lady answered some questions, and we were out of there before ten. I stayed in the conference room for about fifteen minutes and visited with the principals at my table, then talked to a counselor by the door. The ridiculous group from my school was in the corner whispering and giggling. I collected my things and headed home, glad to have some time to decompress.
I was about ten minutes from home (so combined with the 15 minutes I stayed after, and the five minutes in the drive-through, it was an hour and forty five minutes after the conference had ended) when I had a call on my cell. It was an odd number, so I answered. I didn't know who it was, but my gut seemed to know, beecause it was churning.
"Hi, this is The Beast," it greeted coldly.
"Hello," I responded.
"I didn't even know you were AT the conference today," It said. I wanted to tell It if It had been on time It might have known, but I kept my mouth shut. "We are all going to the Country Kitchen to discuss what we learned. Will you join us?" It asked. I also wanted to tell It they couldn't have learned much since they missed the first twenty minutes of a two hour conference and the test wasn't even ready yet, but I simply told the basic truth.
"I'm already to Lincoln," I said, "I can't turn around and come back now." There was NO WAY.
I was fuming. I couldn't beliebe It had the nerve to say It didn't know I was there. It MADE me go. I know It made sure I WAS there, because It would like nothing more than for me to have missed it so It could tattle on me.
I went to my friend's house and bawled my eyes out. I told her the whole situation this time, and she let me wallow on her couch. We started a movie and I had just about cried myself to sleep when my phone rang. It was the school. I hoped it was my mom.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hey this is The Beast. I need you to come out to my office right away," It demanded.
"OK," I agreed. My gut was in knots. I knew it wasn't going to be good. I was sick to my stomach and just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I was past the point of being able to handle the constant harassment and bullying. I was tired of doing the right thing all the time only to be punished for it. I was broken before I even got to the school.
I went into the office where the secretary greeted me.
"Whatcha need, Andrea?" She asked.
"The Beast wanted to see me?" I questioned. It was nowhere in sight. I sat outside the office for about ten minutes when It finally arrived.
"Go on in," It said with cold death in Its eyes. "I'm waiting on Mr. Assistant to join us," It said. It then went on acting like a pre-teen, bragging to one of Its spawn that It could wear Little Its clothes, and was sporting Little Its shoes, giggling like a school-girl.
Finally Mr. Assistant arrived, and what would transpire in that meeting would blind-side me and change my life forever...
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