"Why would you say that?" I howled back.
"Are you trying to break my heart?"
"I went to my Group!" he announced, smiling broadly and doing the little dancing wiggle break dance thing that he can't seem to control.
Ahh. The Group. Group therapy for kids. I smiled back at him. I'm glad he likes it.
"¿Cómo estás?" I asked for the millionth time. "¿Qué tal el descanso?".
"Estoy mal" pale, eccentric Aaron answered.
I was surprised. Most talked of beaches and pools and wonderful Spring Breaks.
"¿Por qué?".
"My dad grew a goatee over the break. It gives me the creeps".
That will probably make two of us.
"Hi, Hilary." the email began. "Can you meet with me and the Executive Director today at 1:30?".
"I'm teaching during that time" I responded, and added a few alternative time slots.
"Am I in trouble?" I wrote at the end of the email.
I don't like it. 'See me' emails from the principal are never good, and I have never been invited to an audience of two of them. I just signed my contract and have been getting a lot of compliments lately. For some reason, my already sad Monday mood got bleaker.
"Parents have commented on the vast number of beer bottles in your recycling...you do live right behind the school. Do I smell alcohol right now? From last night?!".
"You need to get back earlier from your trips. We know the last few have ended mere hours before school began and you come in jet-lagged".
"Can you really speak Spanish? Because, you know, you are American?".
"Parents are complaining. Your clothes and your hair are weird".
"You are consistently five minutes late, everyday".
"Why do you wear the same clothes to school so often? I mean, they seem clean, but so much repetition?".
"Students are complaining. They say your class is too hard and that you get in their faces. Parents are upset too".
"We want to pay you half of your salary, because, you know, you only teach Spanish, which isn't real teaching".
"You've really put on a lot of weight. Are you unhappy? Maybe you shouldn't be here".
"We found your blog. Our lawyer will be contacting you".
"You smell bad".
Even though I felt awful and fearful, I found myself humming the Dynamite song my hard working, Bruce Springsteen-style first grader had sung in the meeting we have in the mornings.
I throw my hands up in the air sometimes. Saying ayo....
"We are amazed by how much the Spanish the students know and it is all due to you. You ought to know that. You are the most amazing Spanish teacher ever!".
The students are lucky to have you. The school is not what it was during E's time there, but it will be infinitely less without language. Your family has your back. I know you will find something better with less prima donas and more substance.
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