She rolls her eyes as she adjusts the radio station a tad too aggressively. Her unspoken responses are louder than any words she could force out of her lungs. She thinks I will love this job, or at least she hopes I will. And more importantly, she wants me to treat it with respect.
Emma has been the art teacher at Glendale for three years and spends every family holiday raving about how they want her to be Mr. Clinton’s replacement. Mr. Clinton, who is a dinosaur apparently, has been the principal at Glendale for about a century—per their school website. Emma tells us every year how the entire school sits on the edge of their seats waiting for that fateful day when he will announce his retirement. But every year Mr. Clinton closes his end-of-the-year rally speech with, “We’ll see ya next year, folks!”
According to Em, it’s both a sadness and a relief.
She would be a wonderful principal.
But with Dr. Steven taking on the odd shift work as the newest physician at the hospital, and the hellions still not old enough to go to school, the added responsibility would surely send her to the looney bin.
“I swear if one of you kicks my seat again . . .” I sneer loudly through my teeth. The boys cackle in response—snaggly, drooly smiles and all. How people find that cute, I’ll never know. One of the twins sticks his tongue out at me then proceeds to eat a booger. Irritation boils through my veins as I watch them from the rearview mirror.
Would it be frowned upon to throw my shoe at them?
My sister gently grabs my clenched fist. Involuntary trembles move up my arms, my fingernails pinch the inside of my palm as I squeeze harder. Her touch is an attempt to soothe and prevent a rage-filled spiral.
From the outside looking in, a sudden reaction to two toddlers might seem normal. But for me, it’s a quick reminder that my intrusive thoughts are not as under control as they should be, especially for a professional therapist.
Between my sister and I, I’ve always been the calm one. Em has always been patient and direct with her boys, but in other circumstances, her anxiety can be debilitating and destructive. Mom and Em were the reasons I went into psychology. Growing up, there was never a day where one of them didn’t experience some sort of panic attack. Some were warranted, like my mother’s anxiety regarding our water getting cut off, or my sister panicking when we were rear-ended by a semi-truck. Other times, it seemed to me their brains just weren’t operating the way the rest of the world’s brains were. Helping them process and stay grounded came natural to me. Just by talking to them, I was a key part in preventing their detrimental spirals. As a result, I found a passion for mental health.
My freshman year of high school, my English teacher, Ms. Walker, saw me talking a cheerleader out of a social crisis in the bathroom and she recommended I look into different counseling training programs after I graduated. And honestly, it was the perfect fit. Becoming a licensed therapist and finishing my doctorate in Psychology Research was the fuel to my fire of wanting to solve the world’s mental health problem.
Marrying a psychiatrist by the name of Liam was the gasoline I needed to set it ablaze.
We were going to end the mental health stigma, bring about light in someone’s darkest times, and show the world that our brains are nothing to be afraid of.
It was a good plan.
Was.
But even the strongest and most capable people can lose their way. Even with the right resources and education, some of the best professionals in our field can lose their cool. After last year, it’s clear I’ve started losing mine. NowI’mthe one who needs help staying grounded.
I catch myself hovering over Liam’s text thread with my thumb—lost in the past—when we pull into Glendale’s parking lot.
Glendale High School sits nestled behind a line of elm trees a few blocks away from the busy city streets. The sun shines through, speckling the pavement with gold shimmers and highlighting the red and gold Glendale emblem painted on the blacktop pavement.
I’m not sure if it was the feeling of anticipation or nerves, but something about Glendale sent flutters through my chest. We step out of the truck and the Oklahoma wind whips my hair around my face. An unexpected smile tugs at my lips as I survey the outskirts of my new place of employment.
Chapter two
Benny
Todayisorientationdayand we have our new hire coming in.
I’m really looking forward to her joining our team. She seemed very elegant and professional in her interview, and I probably seemed like a dweeb for not even turning my camera on.
Filling my third cup of coffee this morning, I start to mentally go over today’s to-do list. The summer flew by and I am ecstatic to be back. Yes, I’m the weird guy who loves their job and looks forward to summer break being over.
I never pictured myself working as a teacher, let alone becoming vice principal one day. Up until the age of thirteen I was convinced I’d be the next Eminem or the third member of Outkast. I haddreams.
Accepting a teaching job at my alma mater was an impulse. A way to pay the bills when I was right out of college—but it quickly turned into one of the best things I’ve ever done. Being at Glendale just feels right to me. I don’t think I’m meant to do anything else—I love it here. Even though this job seems to put a lot of weight on my shoulders with the never-ending responsibilities, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But with all the changes coming up, this year is looking like it will be one of the most stressful years I've ever had as vice principal.
“It’s going to be a great term!” Ms. Patsy walks into our breakroom, joining me at the back counter by the communal coffee pot. “Quit using that, you’re ruining perfectly good coffee!” She motions at the container in my hand.
“What is so wrong with my flavored creamer?” I retort, setting my cinnamon creamer back in the refrigerator.
“Men are supposed to like black coffee. It’s strong and simple. How a man takes his coffee can say a lot about their character.” She laughs, patting me on the back a little too hard.
“I hope you don’t view me any less for my creamer choice.” I smile down at her.
