It's My Job

Last week was a dark week and I have thought long and hard about writing about it . . . I read about teachers who get fired over things that show up online.

Every week, I am supposed to contact the parent of each student who is failing.  I always try to get all this done using the school's computer and phones, but it does not always work that way.  There is one particular parent that I was unable to get in touch with and ended up calling him from my cell one evening. The parent was polite and seemed supportive.  There were no problems with the call until a week later.

The student of said parent often has trouble getting to class on time and the principal gave the student some days of in school suspension.  The kid was furious and believed I was lying about the tardies. At bedtime I received a ugly text message saying a few choice words and that I "needed to change it."  No name.  No specification as to what "it" was. I was angry, but just deleted it and determined that I was not going to let it ruin my evening.  I was tired and did not really think about who might have sent the text.  I just deleted it.  It did ruin my evening though.  I fretted, tossed, and stewed myself into a midnight headache.

Morning came with another text saying that ignoring the sender would not make "it" go away. By now, I had decided I knew who was sending the messages and my suspicions were confirmed with a little sleuthing at school.  The tardy student had been texting and got my number from said parent.  By now I was angry.  Jack had teased me about something before school not knowing about the texts.  I responded with a complete melt down full of tears and snot.  This was not a good way to begin the day.

I, of course, headed straight for my principal's office.  She was pretty angry too.  The kid was questioned, refused to give up the cell phone to be checked, I had to write up a detailed report, and I was still angry.  I was angry because it made me look like I can't handle my class.  I was angry because I have worked so hard to help this kid who is often a jerk.  I was angry that because no actual threat had been made there was little I could do, especially since I had deleted the first email.  I was angry that Jack now felt like he wasn't doing his job as protector of the family.  I was angry that this kid could  waltz back to my class having gotten away with being rude and ugly.        

I spoke with kid later in the day about an assignment.  Oh so polite.  This kid was a model of good manners.  That seemed to just take the heart out of my week. I am over it, it is a new week, I have 90 other kids that I mostly enjoy.    I actually spent the afternoon helping this kid salvage the research paper that had been ignored for a week even though it was due today. Crazy and weird, I know, but I need to be professional.  There cannot be any suspicion that I am being vindictive.  It is my job to teach.   But I won't forget.  My desk drawer will stay locked.  I will watch my child closely on her way to school.  I will be vigilant . . . Because that is my job too.