"I believe in peace, bitch" Tori Amos, 'Waitress'

Waitress

 It was the end of the grading period, the end of the week, the end of the work day, the end of another shock to my system. I trudged down the hall, feeling as though I was carrying a bookcase full of dictionaries on my shoulders. My drab green purse hung over my left shoulder, and my black shirt gave me a jaunty look that I certainly was not feeling. I clutched my car keys in my right hand - I have an odd obsession with needing to know where my keys and cell phone are at all times - and averted my eyes from coworkers who passed by me.

From behind me, I heard a voice - "Hey! Have a good weekend." I turned and smiled. Mike was walking behind me, his own bag swinging over his shoulder. Mike is a fellow English teacher. He's a good guy - football coach, happily married, father to three little ones. I like Mike because he's neutral. He doesn't swing to either of the factions in the English department, but instead stays fair. Everyone respects him. He looked at me, with concern in his eyes. "What the hell was that all about in the meeting?"

I looked at him and shook my head sadly. "I don't know," I said. "It certainly wasn't the time or the place to bring all of that up - and in front of the principal!" Mike nodded sadly. "It was just weird," he said. "I don't get why she did that."

I made some flippant remark, as I am wont to do, and said goodbye. As I walked, I pondered the events of the day. I was angry; I was sad; I was embarrassed; I was hurt. But if MIKE was behind me, then I had likely come across better in the exchange.

Earlier in the day, the entire English department had a meeting. I was on time, and I got to our department head's room. As I walked in, I made eye contact with the principal (the first time since the whole incident in September) and said hello. Then I found a seat next to Katie, one of my favorite fellow teachers. I curled up in the desk and made a few random jokes. 

The meeting started off... charged. We originally had three levels of English in each grade - Honors, college prep, and basic. This year, we combined the 9th grade so that there were only two levels - honors and college prep. At the same time, we implemented inclusion (all special education students in regular classes, with an extra teacher to help with modifications). Therefore, there is a huge range of abilities in most freshman English classes. Of the six teachers who have attempted this, all but one loved it. One had some reservations about reaching all students.

The (new) head of the department and the others freshman teachers lambasted this Odd Teacher Out (Jenn). Poor Jenn defended, offered statistics, read comments from her inclusion teacher, but she just got a nasty attitude from these other women. I sat and watched, as though I were at a tennis match. I felt bad for Jenn, but I teach 11th and 12th grade - I had no solid input to give.

Next, we were supposed to have a "professional discussion about issues that we had about the English department." Stacy started off saying that we needed to give ourselves a 2-week deadline to get things graded and handed back. Catherine was upset because students weren't being given enough homework. And then Denise jumped in with her professional concern.

Denise, I should point out, is someone that I've always felt that I worked well with. We share ideas, make jokes, and inquire about one another's lives.My good friend Liss is her inclusion teacher this year, and I spent a lot of time this summer defending Denise to Liss. Denise is cold, but I have a way of making even the most cold person smile and laugh.

So, Denise leans forward. "I was told by a student that his Advanced Comp teacher allowed him to be evaluated by a substitute!".

My ears perked up. There are only two Advanced Comp teachers in the building, and I'm one of them. People began to ask Denise questions - "was it on a test?" "was this recent?" "how did you find out?" She explained that a substitute had graded students on a huge presentation, and that it was unprofessional for a teacher to allow that.

Amid the gasps, I said, "Yes, Denise, it was me. And they weren't graded on the presentation. They turned in a report over their individual novel."

She turned to me coldly. "The substitute GRADED it. The student SAW it."

"No, Denise, I have a rubric. The class presentation was that the student stood up and said what book he or she read and if it was a good book. They turned in a report, which I will read and grade. I had them present even though I wasn't there because I need to get them in before the end of the grading period."

"Well, if it wasn't graded, why did you have to get it in by the end of the grading period?"

"Because they need to pick their books for next grading period, and I wanted them to hear what everyone else liked."

She wouldn't let it go. She was wrong, and she was like a pit bull that held on to a sock in its mouth, even though it was all shredded and useless. The whole department watched us go back and forth  - now they were watching MY tennis match - and the principal sat, listening. It ended with her shaking her head and mumbling "whatever...."

I was in shock, to be honest. I wasn't expecting to be challenged - I was sitting in the far part of the circle, minding my own business - and all I could do was defend, defend, defend. After the meeting, I walked around, pissed. I thought about talking to her, sending her an e-mail, or talking to my colleagues, but I wasn't sure what consequences any of those actions would lead to. I went off by myself at lunch and cried in my car because I was so pissed off. It wasn't just what was said in the meeting. It was that she was supposed to be my friend. It was that the principal was sitting in that room, and we all know that I hate him and he hates me, but I was making a concerted effort to play nice so I could get through the year. The last thing I needed was someone challenging me in front of him, in front of a semi-public forum.

I wanted to say to her the following things:
(a) If you had a question about something I did in my class, you should have come and talked to me in private.
(b) It would be nice if you would ask me about something a student told you instead of believing them and bringing it up "anonymously" in front of the entire group.
(c) When I had a response, there was no need to revisit the topic and "attack" me; you brought it up, I answered it. You are my co-worker, not my boss.

Afterward, there was so much I had wished I had said. I'm never as strong when I'm flustered.

So now what do I do? I avoid her. There will be no more meetings to discuss American Literature. I will not email her with ideas. I avoid her until June comes around and I get the hell out of that ridiculous school. There's no need to be nice for the sake of the school, or the students. I'm done with her.

It's been a week of people just... sucking. My co-worker. My ex-husband. Me. I need new people; I need a change; I need inspiration; I need hope.

So, because of Mike's comment, I know that this is not something that I blew up in my head as being worse than it was. I know that the other department members saw it as the ridiculous attack that it was. I hope that she went home, feeling stupid, feeling mean, and I hope she felt like shit all weekend. I felt like shit on Friday, and now I'm over it.

But I'm not forgetting.