"everybody wanna talk like they got something to say, but nothing comes out when they move their lips, just a buncha gibberish" - Dr. Dre & Eminem., 'Forgot about Dre'

Forgot About Dre

I used to have an amazing talent. I had honed it, after years of practice, and I had perfected it. I didn't even have to think before I used my talent. It wasn't the most respectable of talents, but it was useful. I never had any mental qualms about using it. And then, something happened. I hit age 30, and huge changes happened in my life.  I left my husband, and I began to rediscover who I was. I didn't have to use my talent anymore.

My talent was hiding my true feelings.

I'm not good at talking about things. Often, people attempt to engage me in serious discussions, and I weasel out of them or change their tone. But, five years ago, I would have just lied and told the person who engaged me in the serious conversation what they wanted to hear, and then that person would be happy which would make me happy, and I could avoid conflict once again.

But now, I'm not going to hide what I really think. I'm still not at the point where I want to analyze my every word and every action, but I'll tell someone what is going on inside my head. I still am sensitive to peoples' emotions, but I'm not going to make up an opinion that reflects what they want to hear. And if someone hurts me, I'm not going to roll over and take it.

So, as you all know, I've been having problems at work lately. The administrators violated me by reading my blog, and they accused me unfairly. I've never liked them much anyway, but I was able to avoid them unless absolutely necessary. If they said hello in the hallway, I'd make some chipper comment and grin at them. If I had a problem with a student, I'd send an email and we'd have a helpful exchange. But those days are over.

I've only seen members of the administration a few times since my "meetings" at the start of the school year. I stay in my room or in fellow English teachers' rooms, or maybe across the school with Liss, and everything is fine. The couple times we've crossed paths in the hallway, I've given them a curt nod and walked away. But yesterday, we had small group meetings. That means that, during one of our free periods in school, we go down in small groups and meet with the administrators. This happens a few times a year, in exchange for our afterschool staff meeting.

Typically, I'm energetic at these meetings. I ask questions, I make comments, I make everyone laugh. I bring up points that are important for the staff and for our students. I take notes and nod at all the right places. I do everything I can to make the administration happy so that, someday, I'm looked at in a positive light . Yesterday, though, I walked in and sat down. I talked to the other staff members who came in (4 others, in all) but not the three administrators. When the principal started to talk, I looked at my lanyard and played with the attached keys. He talked for a good 15 minutes, making stupid jokes that I would have laughed at, sarcastically, before. I didn't even crack a smile. The assistant principal talked. I ignored him. When the meeting was adjourned, I stood up immediately and walked out the door.

Later, in the day, I walked out of my room and the principal walked by. I looked him in the eye, and then kept walking. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. All I could think of was him pouring over my orgasm story, him reading my deepest thoughts, him violating me, him talking to the superintendent and his fellow administrators about me.

Bev, the lady who teaches across the hall from me, knows a tiny bit about the story. She hates the administration, too. But she tells me not to burn bridges, not to fan the flames. She's got a million trite phrases to tell me to play nice. However, if I can't respect them, I can't even pretend. It's not me anymore. I do my job - and I do it as well or better than anyone else in that school - and I pass out forms I'm supposed to, and enforce the rules I'm supposed to, and I work very hard to make my inclusion classes run smoothly - but that's all for the kids. It's all for my students, and not for the administration.

This will be my last school year. Honestly, I think it's time, even if this had never happened. I'm ready for a new challenge. Some of you may snicker when you think of me in the corporate world - I think Assery was horrified at the thought - but I can do it. I may even be good at it. But I'd like to finish out this school year, so I'm covering my bases. One of the things I learned in a master's course was that the "bosses" in a school system - administration, superintendent, etc. - aren't REALLY the bosses. They have to answer to the community in general and to parents. And from teaching at my school for 8 years, I've learned that the principals like to pretend that they are concerned with school climate, and part of that is teacher regard. So I've made sure to call the parents of each one of my 140 students and introduce myself and ask if they have any questions about the class. It's taken forever, but some of those parents have already called the school and complimented the principal on the initiative I have taken. I randomly have given candy and little notes to my coworkers. And, as always, my student love me. I'm not bragging, but those kids ADORE me. I'm always voted Teacher of the Year, or runner-up, and I'm often called down to work with students who won't talk to anyone else. So if the administration would like to fire me, they will have a long, hard road ahead of them. And then they'll get to deal with the union and the ACLU.

But, you know, other than that, I'm good. Seriously. I feel like I'm waiting for that email, calling me down again, but I'm more prepared now. Bring it on, motherfuckers.