There was a spark in the air as the children hung up their coats and found their way to the circle. Having your parents watch you was very exciting, and the children seemed to have extra energy and were more than a little bit chatty. The buzz of chatter, and the scraping of chairs and extra loud squeals of delight were no match for Annika. Her heart broke for the children whose parents would be unable to attend today. She hugged away frowns and tears and assured them they could take work home to show their parents tonight. She handled all of that with calm and ease. They were children, after all, and excitement was part of the job description.
Eventually, even the most rambunctious of the group found their way to the circle, and to Annika’s delight, they were right on schedule. Everyone sat quietly for the morning announcements and the special welcome for the parents. She began her address to the students just as the parents filed in and took their seats in the back of the room. Annika relished the fact that not one of the students turned their heads to look. They went over the date, the weather and the lessons for the day. She gave each student a schedule of their day, so they would know which station to go to and so they wouldn’t be with the same children all day.
She dismissed them to their first lesson, and each child took his or her chair with him to the desks that were at the stations. At the reading-writing station, two students accidentally banged chairs. It happened at least once a day and was never really a problem. Both children giggled and apologized and went about their business. Annika sighed. Perfect.
She assessed the room and found one child struggling with his chair. It happened every day, and Annika let him be, because he always made it and consequently felt good about himself. Today, the child’s mother stood and helped him bring the chair over.
“I can do it, Mom,” Jeff insisted, throwing the other children a furtive glance, as none of the other parents were helping their children.
Annika stepped in. “Mrs. Delancey, Jeff moves his chair every day and is quite successful. I’m sure if you watched, you’d be proud.”
“Ms. Mehta.” Mrs. Delancey’s eyes were hard. “If you’re telling me that Jeff struggles like this every day, and no one helps him, I am appalled. It’s too big for him.”
“Mrs. Delancey, please, give him a chance. If we find he’s still struggling, I’ll move the chair myself.”
Mrs. Delancey pressed her lips together and raised an eyebrow, but she took a step back and waited. Sure enough, Jeff managed to move his chair where it needed to be. He turned and beamed at his mother, who softened instantly and gave her son a double thumbs-up, and a small conciliatory nod to Annika.
Crisis averted. Things were going smoothly. Annika smiled to herself, proud that her children were doing so well. She relaxed.
That was her first mistake.
Annika had barely sighed relief when loud voices erupted from across the room.
She turned to find two girls screaming at each other. Ashley, her dark locks shaking with indignation, was screaming at Miranda, who was wailing with her little fists balled at her sides.
“You took my spot, Ashley!”
“You grabbed the green pencil from me!”
“Did not. I don’t even like your stupid pencil.”
“My pencil is not stupid!” Ashley stamped her foot and shoved Miranda before Annika could get over to them.
Before Annika could do anything, both Ashley’s and Miranda’s mothers were at their daughters’ sides.
Miranda’s mother clutched her daughter, soothing her while Ashley’s mother tried to explain that we do not shove, even if the other person uses bad words. Jeff, of the successful chair move, was currently drawing on the little boy next to him, who had started to cry.
Both girls’ mothers were glaring darts at each other, and now the other children started crying from all the commotion in the room.
Annika tried to pacify each child in turn but to no avail, and the parents were turning on her faster than anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mitch edging his way toward the back wall, away from the commotion, his eyes wide with fear. Mitch’s father was glaring at her, a level of superior satisfaction emitting from his smile.
Now all of the parents of the crying children were trying simultaneously to calm their children and chastise Annika for losing control in the first place. Miranda’s and Ashley’s mothers had now started yelling at each other, and more than one parent was asking Annika what the hell was going on. In the midst of all this, her classroom phone rang. She glanced in its direction and then promptly ignored it. Another child had decided to simply lie on the floor and scream.
Annika stood in the middle of the room and clapped out a pattern. Mayhem continued. She clapped it out again. A couple of children copied her. She did it again, and some of the crying stopped and a few more children answered. She did it again and again, until all of the children answered her and the crying had stopped. She continued the pattern as she went to the closet and pulled out a colorful parachute. She handed each child a part of it, until they all stood in a circle, and then she engaged them in play.
“Ms. Mehta.”
Annika snapped to attention as the principal entered the room.
“Mrs. Colter,” she addressed the principal, “if you would be so kind as to escort our parents to the cafeteria for a coffee break, the children and I have some regrouping to do.” Many of the parents were reluctant to allow Annika to do anything with their children, but the principal seemed to have decided to give Annika a chance to regain her classroom, and she encouraged the parents to come with her. Annika saw the disappointment in their eyes and in the set of their mouths. She did her best to ignore it all.
As the principal left, she whispered to Annika, “We called to tell you your father is here.”
Annika snapped her head to the principal. “He was here?”
“He’s still here.”
Annika nodded. “I can’t come now.”
