You Might Ask Yourself

Men, some not even men but teenagers, shimmied up the border wall and straddled it, one leg in either country.  Countless other people from the caravan stood below.  The were at the border wall that extends into the sea, and at San Ysidro, in Tijuana, at locations where I've spent countless afternoons.  I would have done anything to be there, to be there cheering them on. 

"You tell me why you were talking about me!"  the ten year old screamed in my face. 
"I wasn't talking about you.   I apologized to the back table for the distraction coming from your table."
"You talk to me now!" he continued to yell, rising and getting in my face.
"I've answered your question." I answered calmly.
"YOU were talking about ME to other students!"  he yelled, walking toward me and inserting himself between me and the desktop computer. 
"Oooooh, you told her!" his only friend in the class cooed, laughing.  The rest of the class stared on in astonishment as I tried to keep the lesson going. 
"I demand to know why you were talking about me with other students!"  he continued yelling.
"At this point, your harassing me."  I answered.
"How can a child harass an adult!" he yelled over and over, while I tried to continue the lesson. 

"Look, Mrs. Lovett, Anton had a really bad day...." I said into the phone, my voice shaking.
"His behavior is YOUR fault!"  she shrieked back.
"He only acts like this because he thinks YOU don't like him!" she continued.
"I am coming to your class TOMORROW to observe."
"Okay."  I said weakly and hung up.  Observe me, though you're not my boss and have zero qualifications to evaluate my abilities.  But of course, I'm the one that has done something wrong.

I walked to the Center after a Central Office meeting for all elementary Spanish teachers.  Meetings for whole departments at this time of year has never been a good thing.  Six years ago, I was laid off.  One year ago, our instructional hours were slashed.  This meeting had been surprisingly painless, but I felt a little annoyed to have lost forty-five minutes of tutoring time for a meeting that seemed to be basically an exchange of pleasantries.   When I arrived at the Center, my kids were helping the kindergartners.  They begged to keep doing what they were doing.  My boss assured me that everything was fine and my kids could stay with hers.  I slipped out a side door and walked away, feeling like no one needed me for anything. 

I called an Uber and my driver even drove right past me, though I was waving my arms in the air, then he blamed me when I got in the car.

"How was Lola's epidural?" I called, while opening the front door.
She walked up wearily, a huge square shaved out of her fur. 

I woke up, tired and with puffy eyes, both from lack of sleep and crying.  By the end of my "observation", it appeared that the parent wanted to enroll in my class. 
"I told Anton that that is how he needs to act everyday!"  she exclaimed.
"That would be great."  I responded.
"And call me if you have ANY problems!"
I let her save face, pretend like the reason she came was to make sure her kid acted right.  I was glad I had triumphed, but questioned why people in my profession have to deal with this kind of shit so regularly. 

I was happy when Friday arrived.  But Friday night, I literally threw up all over the house.  My stomach churned and my body ached.  I slept most of Saturday.  There has been a stomach flu going around school. 

I'm not sure if that was the only thing that got me.