Time Is On My Side

I threw the big tennis ball up the front hallway. The tall ceiling-ed, wood floored, wide beautiful long hallway.  Lola ran forward, sprinting and jumping and lurching.  She would grab the ball, then chase me with it.  I would freeze, jump, make a weird noise with my mouth, and then she would run and I would chase her.  Up and down that beautiful, one hundred and fifteen year old hallway.   It was just like being in the yard, no better!  Air conditioning and no mosquitoes.

We needed to get used to the idea anyway.  Construction will be starting any day on the McMansion that is being built nine feet away from our house, leaving us little more than the hallway for a yard around my beautiful princess house.  I wish I could pick it up and transport it somewhere safe. 

The parents filed by at the high school on curriculum night.  I saw parents from my old elementary school.  Some, former co-workers from the school that had moved so that their kids could attend the lauded school system I work in now.  Some of these parents had worked at my old school even before their kids attended it.  They had always literally been side by side with their kids on a daily basis and were able to exert influence in a way that only a person that worked at their child's school can.  They looked wide-eyed, almost timid as the walked the hallways.  In some ways reveling in the autonomy of being just another parent, but in other ways, almost intimidated by being another face in the crowd. A parent's first day at school. 

The fifth graders would not shut up.  I was getting frustrated.  I had warned them several times that the game would stop if they couldn't control themselves.

I guess the weren't telling me to fuck off like one of the high school kids did the other day, without administrative repercussion.  Or the one that walked out of class when I told him to put his cell phone away.  "You pay my bill?" he asked, walking out of the door and not returning.  Without repercussion. Nothing I can't handle.  But I dreamed that that kid dragged me by the arm down the hallway, physically menacing me, like I was a child.  Maybe flashbacks to my first year of teaching, when the kids did whatever they wanted and I was always to blame. 
 
"I am going to be late to the high school...," I warned in an attempt to get them quiet.  I wanted to finish the game with them, but did not want to cut into my time at the high school. I felt a little arm wrap around my shoulder and pat my back.

"It will be okay," Jonathon stated blankly, staring me in the eyes.  Jonathon, my new favorite Aspie.  He took the string that holds my keys and school ID from around his neck and handed them to me.

"You are two minutes over your allotted time here". 

Walking the Floor

I stood outside, fully dressed, at 7:15 in the morning.  A line of cars led to the school as others whipped in, boot kicking their kids into the parking lot and roaring away. One car barely stopped moving as an eight year old jumped out through an open door.  

The first day of school.  At least the parents seemed pretty excited about it.

I had felt like crying.  I was strangely homesick.  I missed Alec.  I missed my dog.  I did not want to be back at work.  I wanted to be home.  I was relieved that the presence of the students had actually made me feel better.

"See there, she funny," the mammoth sixteen year old called to his friend while we reviewed the syllabus, "we be alright in this class".  I was glad one of us felt confident.

I looked into the familiar, little face of one of my 5th graders.  He looked exactly like his teenage brother that I taught last year, minus the air of assholery.   I never thought that I would see that face and find it sweet.

I analyzed my instructional hours.  An elementary assistant principal had literally walked up, handed me my schedule, then bolted.  School was starting in three days.  I had been begging for a schedule from the elementary since May.  Between my mornings at the elementary and afternoons at the high school, I would be teaching a ridiculous number of hours.  I felt my stomach start churning.  It wasn't fair.  I would have two completely different age groups.  I would be driving between two schools, daily.  I would float into five different elementary classrooms and four different high school classrooms, daily.  Why would I also have three additional instructional hours, literal TEACHING KIDS hours a week, than any Spanish teacher at either the elementary or high school campus', for the same exact pay as the rest of them?

Well, I decided I wouldn't.  Six hours and multiple master schedules later, our hours became much more commiserate.  I stayed nice, but was simply not going down that road again. 

"Ms. Wagner!" a kid from one of last year's classes yelled down the hall, waving.  I was flattered; it was nice to be greeted.  Last year, he told me that a hand motion I was making to describe a vocabulary word looked like a male jacking off.  I knew at that moment that he and I would get a long well.  

"Maestra!"  the little girl called as I entered her classroom.  I couldn't believe it.  I had taught her for two years at my last elementary school.
"Mia!"  I answered, "It is so good to see you.  Did you move?"
"Yes!"  she answered, smiling.
"Well, it looks like you can't get rid of me for Spanish!"

"So, um, just chill with your bad self for a second until the others finish the pretest" I commented, picking up her paper.
"My bad self.....?"  the pretty teenager asked, smiling. 

"SWEET!"  one of my cohorts from the June classes exclaimed when I walked into his classroom.
"We got you for Spanish?!  SWEET!  I can't tell you, seriously, how glad we are".
Are you talking to me?  It was nice.  The elementary had been hurting me, but this was nice. 

During pre-planning, two fifteen year-old girls had busted into the area where I keep my desk.
"We have you for Spanish" they stated.  I didn't want to talk to them.  I was busy.  I started bitching to them about the weirdness of our classrooms this year.
"One period, we are way up on the third floor in a Social Studies room.  Then, another period, I am in some strange conference room thing.  And then!  Oh my God, the last period I have to teach in like a computer lab, it's crazy....I'm surprised we are not having class in the cafeteria...,"
"You nice....she seem cool...," one of the two fifteen year olds stated.  I was surprised.  I knew that my 'coolness' probably would not last for long, but at least they had a good first impression. 

"Hey, Darrius, what are you doing in here?" I asked my bobcat from last year.  It was the middle of class; I was trying to do my thing and I had a random student just walking in.
"Just sayin' hi to you..."
I decided to go with it.
"Alright muchachos, if you don't know Darrius Collier, you are about to".
He whispered in my ear.
"Oh, she, SHE bad.  Cell phone all the time"
"He, he bad too.  Hey bro!!"
Trayvon laughed and waived back.
"Oh, he, leGary, he..."
"He seems cool to me"
"Oh he is.  He a good guy".
Darrius decided to make his exit.
"Whoo!  You got some pretty white girls in this class!"
"No, no Darrius, no.  No sexual harrassment here"
"She!  Bonita!  he said pointing.
"Bonita, bonita, bonita" he continued, pointing at various white girls.
"Suck it, Darrius!"  the black girls yelled, as Elvis made his exit.

"Me llamo Aidan and me gusta fat cats".
So sweet, so earnest.  I could tell he was an Aspy.
"We have three cats and only one of them is fat.  He is my favorite.  He is sick.  He has been at the vet for three days".
"I am so sorry.  You must be so worried.  This must be very stressful".
"Yes, it is".
He finished his "¿Quién soy yo?" little man writing assignment.
At the end, they could decorate themselves.
Instead of a human face, he drew a cat's face with ears.

"Oh...oh, I like this one.."  Emma stated, flipping through my elementary papers at the high school while she waited for me to get my shit together so that we could go home.

"I know.  I think he is going to be a sweet one".

Me, Myself and I

"Hilary, we would love it if you could join us to represent the Fulbright program at the NEA conference in Atlanta".
I responded 'yes' to the email immediately.  I love Fulbright.  I always say yes to them.

I sat outside with Lola, in my pajamas.  I was finally done with my June classes and was again, sleeping late.  I only had a couple of off days before the two day conference.  A truck pulled up and parked, blocking my car in.  Two men walked confidently through my yard.
"Can I help you?"  I asked, feeling awkward in my pajamas and the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra.
Lola started barking.
"Looking at the land" one of the men responded.
"Really?  Do you know who owns it?  We have been trying to figure it out for a while".
"I do.  We just bought it".
"What....what are you going to do with it?"
"Put a house on it" he answered, dismissively. 
Our property line extends only two feet from our house. 
We wanted that land.  To expand our yard.  It was supposed to be 'undevelopable'.  The previous owners of our house had tried to buy it too, but could never figure out which bank owned it.  I knew this asshole had snapped it up at some courthouse auction and would make some money off of it.  But it means so much more to us.
"Can I get your card?" I asked, chasing this redneck fuck through MY front yard, bra-less and all.

Pervy-ass grey haired man-teachers tried to talk me up whenever I was alone at the Fulbright booth.  It wasn't flattering.  If anything, it was demoralizing.
I had met up with Tanya, the director of operations for the Exchange, the day before the conference began.  We had met and hit it off when she came to Atlanta last October.  We threw some shit up at the booth and had an amazing lunch and drinks.  
I was embarrassed when I met her the next day.  As I tried to park at the conference site, pro-life demonstrators stood outside with gory fake-ass pictures of red jello covered 'baby' hands.  I had no idea why they were there.
Inside, we saw booths selling science textbooks that promoted creationism.  A huge banner hung above their stand:  "Evolution is a Myth".
There was a bazaar type area where you could get a bedazzled t-shirt with your name written in gold.
A separate booth promoted 'life education'.  People, or I guess TEACHERS, were buying dolls that were supposed to represent fetuses at various weeks of development.  But they didn't look like little pieces of shrimp, they gave them limbs, eyes, finger nails, the whole fucking nine yards at a matter of weeks.  I felt a combination of laughter and disgust.  I wanted to mock them, take pictures and spread their ridiculousness all over Facebook.  But, I was horrified by the reality of their presence and the crowd of teachers surrounding their booth.

"Hilary, I have to tell you something,"  Tanya said earnestly.
"I couldn't tell you over the phone".
"Because of the sequester, State has cut funding to the Fulbright Classroom Teacher Exchange.  After SIXTY-FIVE years, the program is no longer funded".

Another loss.  It breaks my heart. 

Hunting

"I gonna hang that dog!" the teenager shrieked at her little brother.  The boy walked down the street with his friend.  When the puppy couldn't walk fast enough, he dragged it on its stomach.
I winced from my vantage point across the street.

"Please, help this puppy.   It runs around in the street at night, off leash, even in the rain.  He is probably two months old.  His mom was emaciated; we used to bring her food.  All of the puppies died a week after she had them.  Then, she got run over by a car.  The 'owners' left her laying in the street for two days, dead.  Finally a neighbor buried her.  Her remaining puppy is starving".

I was surprised when my mom responded to our mutual friend's call out.
"He is too cute to be treated that way.  What do I do?".
My mom has never owned dogs.  I was thrilled and started putting the wheels in motion to save the puppy. 

I was taking classes to upgrade my teaching certificate during June.  They were day long affairs that lasted for four weeks.  As soon as my moms said that she was in, I constantly monitored my phone.  Our friend was simply going to take the puppy one night while he wandered loose.
But it didn't happen the first night.  Or the second.  We felt desperate.  He could be killed in the street.  His belly was bloated with worms.   Now that we knew we wanted him, it felt frantic.

"I am coming over," I texted.  "We have to get that dog".
We couldn't take it anymore.  I wasn't sure how she would respond.
"Possee! I love it!".
And then I drove southwest.   

"He bit our dog!  He put marks on him!" the teenager howled.
The dog in question was a giant Pit Bull.  A ten pound puppy couldn't possibly hurt that dog.
"I don't know shit about dogs, so I locked him in a room for three weeks".

"Okay, I've seen enough" Kerrie said.
She walked over there.
"Hey, you guys know me.   I used to bring food to your dog.  I work at a vet.  That dog needs to see him.  Don't worry, it's free".

I watched from the porch.  I saw the dog in her arms.  I felt tense, scared.   Please, let her take him.  Please, let her be able to walk away with him.  It was taking forever.

"Y'all are fucking Cagney and Lacy".  Kerrie's partner commented. 

I saw Kerrie walking down the sidewalk.  I texted my mom. "Close" I said, "close".
She was on the porch, with the puppy in her arms.
"I am going to put him in my car and drive around the corner.  Follow me.  We'll trade off.  I am going to tell them that the puppy died at the vet".

I followed her left and right.  Every time people stood on the corner, she would take another turn.  I felt the same way.  Finally, she pulled off.  She placed the puppy in my arms and I took off.  Sweet puppy sat in the passenger seat and then, crawled to the back and fell asleep.

I hit the highway and drove north, to my mom's house.

Later I wondered about the little boy that would hear that his dog died.  I wondered if he slept alone in his bed that night, without the puppy.

But, that puppy never slept in a bed. 

Governor's Ball

I stood in the ankle deep mud, retching. It smelled like shit, real shit, horse shit.  My gag reflex could not take it.  The rain poured down.  Yet when the Vaccines came on, it all seemed worth it.

I sat in class in Atlanta, mud still splattered on my legs and crusted under my toe and finger nails.  I free-styled a presentation for the Ed.S. program I am in.  I got a hundred on it. I caught a six AM flight from New York to make it to class on time that day.  I was still late.  I'm kind of late for everything. 

I am feeling this summer.  Oddly.  I am not going anywhere exotic.  Am not leaving the country for the first summer in seven odd years.  I am not even driving to the west coast.   I went to New York for the first time in years and remembered all of the beautiful reasons I love that giant sized city.  And now, I go to school eight hours a day, three days a week.  After class, Lola and I sit on a blanket in the yard while I spread out my articles and books and write papers on my computer. She plays and runs, then sprawls out next to me to relax while I read and write. 

It is strangely stimulating and gives me a sense of purpose that I did not expect. 
I am content. 

School's Really Out for Summer

"Okay, Hilary, you are gonna teach Spanish two again next year.  I want to single prep you since you'll be teaching at the elementary in the mornings and driving here in the afternoons".

"I learned nothing in this class" the feminine handwriting stated on my evaluation from my students.
"Advise to future students: switch teachers".
"I taught myself Spanish".
"The drawback of this class:  the teacher". 
"She's fun and has crazy stories, but she's a 'hypocrit'". 
I think you might need to get on your English teacher, too. 
"Get yourself earplugs and a pillow, she never shuts up".
"She didn't teach me to read a book in Spanish".
Was I supposed to?  I recognized the handwriting on that one.  You have to have a brain to read, Forrest, Forrest Gump. 
It's funny how a couple of shitty teenage evaluations can really burn.  

"Okay, Orelia, you'll be doing AP and standard level International Baccalaureate.  Jorge, you have higher level I.B. and Spanish four.  The new guy, he'll be doing Spanish two at and three, but man, I would love to get a guy like him into AP Literature....".

I knew before the announcement that I would be teaching Spanish two again and appreciated the single prep.  But, all of my Spanish degrees are in literature.  It is my strong point.  I had been feeling good about next year, yet felt my heart sinking.  Why doesn't anyone want to get a girl like me into Literature?  I left at the end of the chat and I heard the door close.  Loud talking went on in the classroom for another half an hour.  Things that I don't need to know about.  Stuff I don't need to concern myself with.

"Ms. Wagner is a hands on chica.  I love Ms. Wagner".
"I really liked all of the choices she gave us.  It kept it interesting".
"If you pay attention, you don't even need to study.  She makes it easy".
"Spanish was better than the previous years."
"Ms. Wagner doesn't give 110%.  She meets you halfway and expects you to work".  
"I learned how horses are impregnated".
Okay, I guess we really don't need to go in on that.

"Okay, so I'm moving across the hall" Jorge stated.
Into the classroom where my desk is.
"But he has to come with me" he indicated, pointing at Gabriel, the teacher that he had been sharing a room with for two years.
"Thanks, Jorge" I said with a dry laugh.
"No, Hilary, it's not personal!  We've always been together, he and I!"
"I know, el caribe, I was just kidding".
Sort of. 

"Okay, I brought the book" the feminine looking boy fourteen year old stated, as he walked in to take his final exam. 
I slowly pulled out the hardcover book, wrapped in plastic Kroger bags. 
'Sexuality, a History from B.C. to HIV'.
"So, your dad really just left this laying in your room, randomly?  Oh wow, nice.  Ends with AIDS.  He pretty much made sure that you will have no interest in sex, for like, ever.  Holy shit!  These pictures are going to burn my eyes out.  Okay, whoever gets done with the final exam first gets first crack at this little nugget!". 

"I miss you and Lola.  The vet recently had to put my dog Orvell down so I've been pretty sad lately." The text was from Elena, my fifth grade friend.

My response to her was followed by a picture of a finger pointing at me.
"Who is the most awesome person today?" the caption read.

You are, Elena.  You are. 

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

"Ms. Wagner!  If you put a reading part on that test I'm gonna punch you.  Punch you in the throat!" Devone yelled. 
I laughed and bent my arms at an angle, while simultaneously jumping up with both knees almost touching my elbows.
"Oh my God, " I responded, "while I worked at Miller Grove a story went around about a kid that acted like shit and his mom came to school with him.  He kept acting up in front of his friends and his mom punched him in the chest in front of everybody".
"I gonna do that to you if you fail me!" Conroy screamed.
"Alright, chamacos, I have to write some crap on the board now, if you don't mind watching my back so I don't get shanked" I responded, and continued my lesson.

The final exam schedule was super pinche fucked up.  I am part-time, so I don't go there for eight hours a day.  I knew on Monday that I didn't have to go in until eleven to deliver my final exam.  I got up around eight and drank coffee in the yard while Lola ran around.  Suddenly, a massive flatbed truck pulled up, carrying a giant sized pool liner on the back.  It roared in front of my driveway, blocked it and parked. A couple of dudes jumped out and walked over to the McMansion next to my place, without a care in the world.
What the fuck, I thought.  But I knew I didn't have to go to work for a few hours and ignored it.

"And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Love to be
In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me, me..."

"¡Quiero pelear!" Devone yelled.
"Looking good, silly, nice vocabulary use.  ¿Con quién quieres pelear?"
"With administrators".
"Really, Devone?  You want to fight Ms. Warren?"
"Nah, not her".
"Mr. Springer?"
"Nah, I like him".
"Ms. McMan?  The principal?".
"Nah.  I want LaVerne".
Everyone started laughing.  He used the first name of an administrator.  A big, older, white administrator.
"LaVerne, you want her?" I howled.
"Yeah, I'm goin' for her," he said, laughing.
"Ms. Wagner, you got a pen?"
I gave him one and he did his work. 

"What a curious life we have found here tonight
There is music that sounds from the street
There are lights in the clouds
Anna's ghost all around
Hear her voice as it's rolling and ringing through me
Soft and sweet!!!!!"  I sang to Lola, hugging her close.

Okay, it was ten thirty.  The pinche flatbed with a pool on the back had been there for hours.  Now, I had to go to work.  I climbed through the mud pit the trucks had made between my yard and theirs, in my work clothes.
"Oh my God," the stay at home mom breathed, in her weird cotton ball voice.
"I have been meaning to talk to you...".
"Awesome, but I have to go to work.  I'm blocked in by my yer, um, pool".
"Well, but I really wanted to talk to you....about all this mess I mean...I didn't know it would be so messy!"
"Okay, yeah, thanks.  I don't care about that.  I just really have to go to work.  Please move the pool".

I tore off to work.  A CSX train had crashed into a mass transit bus that stalled on the tracks on the corner next to the school.  The school schedule was all fucked again.  News trucks sat in our parking lot while I tried to pull my hooptie in to work.
I asked them if they wanted my autograph, but they weren't interested.

I roared home.  Another flatbed was blocking my driveway.  I slowed down.  Pool men waived me around the block, impatiently.
"I'm not trying to get through," I said.
"That is my house".
A couple of dudes got in the truck blocking my driveway, only after one of them gave me a dismissive, fuck you gesture.
My bad.  Really.  My bad.

I tore down the road next to the tracks again on the last day  of school.  I had finished my grades, went home and had some beers and then returned for the graduation of the class of 2013.  I grabbed the bag with my Masters robe and Middlebury scarf thing from the back of my car and trucked it over to the place where faculty had to get dressed.

My Middlebury hood was missing.  I dropped it somewhere in the parking lot.  I put on the winged black robe and strolled out with the rest of the faculty, Middlebury scarf thing-less.

And I clapped and smiled and laughed.

School's out for summer.