Walking Out

When spring came, I had my third of four observations, and this one was done by the principal, Franklin. It was unannounced, and I was doing a writing lesson at the time. As Grandma James circulated and handed out pencils, I sat down at the teacher table and had conferences with kids, one by one. I thought it went really well; I received 3.28 out of 4 points, which was a huge improvement from my twos in the beginning of the year. I had gone from Needs Improvement to Meets Expectations. When I went to meet with Franklin about it, I had some news to tell him. I talked it over with my wife, and we both agreed it was time to tell him I wasn’t returning to Daley. I was excited to do it because after such a horrible year, I could finally leave on a high note, walking out on my own terms.

I anticipated that Franklin would be generally kind, and express his regrets that I was leaving. We had some ups and downs, but I gave him everything I had those two years. You know, something like, “Wow, just as you are really turning the class around. That’s too bad.” At the very least, he could just fake it, “sorry to see you go.” But instead, when I told him the news, he said, “Yeah, I think that is a good move.” He asked me if it was alright to tell other teachers that I was leaving. “Sure, but why?”
“Ms. Smith has told me she won’t come back next year unless she gets a full-time teaching position, and she is really interested in partnering with Amber.”
Amber was Ms. Price. Really, I thought.

After our meeting was over, the wheels in my head started turning. Since my first year, Ms. Price was always great friends with Ms. Smith; they carpooled together, and they almost always spent their lunches together. I also knew that Ms. Price was friends with Franklin; Franklin had recruited her from another school, and I knew they jogged together on the weekends. The news that Ms. Smith wanted my job and had told Franklin tied these three together in an ugly way.

So I tried to piece the puzzle together. When things were really bad in September, Price kept her distance and never reached out to me; she never even attempted to plan with me even though we were expected to plan together. There were a few times I walked over to her classroom so we could plan the next unit together, but the result was usually the same, “I’ve already planned out that unit; if you want, I can make you a copy of the plans?” Even in the worst of times, when I must have looked on the verge of a breakdown, she never even asked me how I was doing. When I thought about Franklin, I remembered he started the year as his normal cheery and supportive self, telling me that I was doing great with the new set of kids. But when things went south, he was ugly towards me even when I reached out to him for any sort of help. So why weren’t they supportive of me? Why did they not seem to care if I succeeded?

I knew Price and Smith were always friends, even last year, and it made sense they wanted to be partner teachers. Last year, Price was a fourth grade teacher, and Smith was a first year special ed teacher. I had no reason to know she really wanted to be a classroom teacher. So last year when my partner teacher left and there was an opening in second grade, Price took it, and it meant there was no opening for Smith so she stayed in special ed. But when things got chaotic in my classroom, on one of their morning drives to school, Price and Smith must have seen the opportunity at hand. If my class drove me out of the school, which seemed likely, then Smith could take the vacancy, and they could work together as a teaching pair. Maybe even Price had mentioned the idea to Franklin during one of their weekend jogs. So through the fall, it was must have been a waiting game, Price would just keep her distance, and Franklin had decided I wasn’t the teacher he wanted anymore. But I kept on, and by spring, it didn’t look so good for them. So then Smith met with Franklin directly and told him she was going to another school, unless she got a classroom, and “oh by the way, I would prefer to be with Amber.” Franklin had no reason to fire me; I was doing better, my class was doing better, and maybe I was just crazy enough to stay. But when I informed him that I was packing my bags, he couldn’t even pretend that this was bad news. His mind went straight to Ms. Smith.

Now, maybe this was too much of a conspiracy theory. Price had a really rough classroom, and she had enough problems of her own, so I shouldn’t have blamed her because she didn’t find the time to reach out to me when her class was already so demanding. Plus, I didn’t think elementary school teachers could be that mean and secretive, maybe Price just had a stand-offish personality, and maybe she didn’t know what to do when she saw me drowning. I mentioned the meeting to Ms. Johnson, the straight talking first grade teacher, who was surprised I didn’t know, “They’ve always wanted to teach together, they’re butt-buddies.” After telling Johnson, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the whole hallway of teachers heard that I just found out what everyone else already knew.

The next morning in cafeteria duty, Ms. Smith saw me and told me she wanted to talk, no doubt Ms. Johnson informed the duo what I had heard from Franklin. “I just want you to know that I had no intentions of taking your job. I can’t believe Steve told you that I wanted your job. That was so unprofessional.” Unprofessional, but it was still true. That afternoon we had a staff meeting, and Price sat right next to me, almost leaning on me. The whole year Price would never even sit at my table during professional development, a clear sign to every other teacher that she had nothing to do with me. Today she was uncomfortably close, and as I pretended to listen to the speaker while finalizing some cut-outs, she leaned over and scribbled something on my notepad; it was a smiley face. Huh? After a full year of ignoring me, you break the ice, with a smiley face. It seemed like I was in seventh grade again. Then, I knew it wasn’t a conspiracy theory at all. She didn’t have to ignore me anymore because it was all an act. An act to get me out, and well, I guess it worked.