Principal Flores and Lina walk by our classroom and lean in the doorway when they see us all together. I roll my eyes internally. I’mpissedat him after our last meeting. If there’s anything that I hate, especially after Jake, it’s being controlled. The level of micromanagement he is leveling my way reallygrates on my soul. That wellness check he left on my phone didn’t help either—he won the award for the most condescending way to make it known what aninconvenienceit was for me to be absent. It’s hitting a breaking point, but I need to suck it up, which is the most irritating fucking thing about the entire situation.
“One of my kids tried to stab me with a thumb tack today,” Mia says. “When I took it away, he shook his head and said, ‘Millennials. So sensitive.’”
“One of our students got his hands on a lighter and lit some toilet paper on fire in the bathroom,” Chaya said.
“Oof, so that fire drill today wasn’t a drill?” I ask.
Lina sighs and shakes her head.
“Nope,” Mr. Flores answers. “An actual fire. Causing one thousand students to evacuate the building and the fire department being called.”
“Didn’t you see the firefighters?” Emmanuel breathes, a dreamy look on his face.
Mr. Flores’s face is a big, handsome, frowning emoji.
I sit up from my horizontal position on the floor. “I was too busy getting Max down from the top of a car. Because he climbed on top of a car. During the fire drill. The car alarm went off when he started jumping,” I tell him. “Speaking of Max, guess what he asked me during our culture lesson today?”
“What did he say this time?” Tamika asks.
I take a large, dramatic breath. “Ms. Baker. Are you a Dominican? Or are you a Republican?”
Everyone stops what they are doing and looks at me. A moment passes.
“Grim,” Mia finally says.
The elevens between Mr. Flores’s eyebrows somehow get even deeper. “You know, that could be a pretty powerfulindicator of the way your lessons are going for that unit, Ms. Baker. I thought I asked you to fix it.”
Outraged now, I can’t help what flies out of my mouth. “Pull that stick out gently, Mr. Flores.”
A tiny “oop” leaves Emmanuel’s mouth. Mia and Chaya look at one another, eyes wide. Lina tilts her head.
Not bothering to clock Mr. Flores’s reaction, I continue, like a train barreling down the tracks. “This is how teachers decompress, Mr. Flores—trading war stories about our shitty day and our shittier kids. We’re only half serious, and we still love them. But they’re still shitty. So, spare us the unsolicited coaching advice. At least for right now. Just let us live and stop micromanaging our conversations.” I notice my foot is shaking.
When I finally look up, Mr. Flores’s eyes have gone the color of molten magma, and I think I see steam coming out of his ears.
Too far, Georgia.
“Girl,” Tamika mutters.
Emmanuel pulls a bag of Takis (Fuego) out of seemingly nowhere and begins to eat them, grinning, eyes bouncing between the two of us.
I find myself shrinking under my principal’s impending fury.Shit.
“Ms. Baker,” he begins.
Emmanuel crunches loudly.
“Ms. Baker, my ‘unsolicited coaching advice’ has improved the ratings and the test scores of every teacher in this room.” He points at every single person in the room, including Lina. “Isn’t that right, third grade team?”
“I guess,” Emmanuel mutters.
“You have undoubtedly helped us all of us, Oliver, but—” Lina starts.
“So, Ms. Baker, it would do you well to remember that theadvice I give, solicited or not, benefits you as well as the school.” His eyes burn as he moves closer. “Remember that the next time you feel like being rude or generally out of line with your direct supervisor. The one who is in charge of both your ratings and the success of every child and adult in this school.” He looms over me, forcing me to crane my neck up to meet his anger. “I understand the need todecompresswith your team, but even if you refuse to treat me with respect, you will, and I repeat, youwilltreat every child in my building with respect. That includes when you are speaking about howshittythey are during yourdecompression time.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mr. Flores turns to tell the team something, dismissing me. I can’t hear what he is saying over the ringing in my ears. I was speaking the truth; I mean, really, all teachers think the same thing. Our kids can be shitty, but we love them anyway. But I hadn’t meant to take it that far, at least in front of my fucking admin of mynew school.Big mistake, Georgia, are you serious?!After self-wallowing a bit, I tune back in to the conversation going on around me.
“Sorry, can’t do it,” Chaya is saying, pointing at her belly.
