Rob and Carol

Date: 28.01.2010

Keywords: Carol, and, Rob,

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I accepted this position over other opportunities in the county partly as a result of being able to teach that class. I also believed you were the most competent principal I interviewed with and I love my assistant principal to death. But seventh period is the carrot your departed IL offered me which made me decide to teach here. There's a month left in the school year; you can find some retired cop or former drill instructor to baby sit that group of sociopaths"

So he'd stroked her a little, but combat gives you that special look that says, I'm not bluffing, bitch. She knew he meant it.

"Are you going to be reapplying here for next year?"

"Not if I can help it."

"You're very good at this, Mr. Thompson. Kids that I honestly believed were incapable of learning are learning in your classes. Ms. Marble tells me she never has to handle any discipline problems for you. You give them that 1,000 yard stare---is that what you call it? Anyway, they behave for you. My little spies come forward and tell me you're the best damned teacher they've ever had...they can't wait to get to your class. This is a tough school; it's a school that needs good tough teachers---like you."

"Mrs. Stewart, I'm flattered; it's nice to know that I'm getting through to some of them. For the first six weeks I was challenged, energized, excited and terribly idealistic. Now I'm just tired and depressed and spending far too much of my paycheck on cheap beer. My military training is the only thing that gets my butt out of bed and in here each morning, plus I need the paycheck to buy more cheap beer. I don't even know if I want to stay in teaching but if I do, I want to teach, not maintain order."

"Sadly, I hear pretty much the same perspective all too often. You can keep your seventh period class. I'm going to have to hire a sub for the seventh period class I have a problem with. It's going to be across the hall from you. If you could stick your head in every now and again, it would be much appreciated."

"I'll be glad to help in any way I can...and, thank you."

"No, thank you, Mr. Thompson."

Two weeks before the end of the school year he got a call from the other school, the one in the next county wanting him to come in for a real interview. Baring a complete fuck up, he was in. The teacher in place had notified the school that he planned to retire. Rob had informed them that he had a full teaching schedule and couldn't come over during the day and that it was a good thirty minute drive. Not to worry, his situation was typical, so they would be conducting the interview process after school; just get his butt over there as soon as possible after school the following Monday.

That Monday as his seventh period was coming to a close it occurred to him that he would miss these kids.

"Are you coming back here next year, Mr. Thompson?"

"What do you care, Rachel, you're going to be off at Georgia Tech on a full scholarship probably cheering for your team to win the national championship and waving pom-poms?"

"Didn't you hear, Rachel? They're not going to offer this class next year. The class has already gotten too small for county standards and not enough juniors are interested in...or qualified for...an advanced, honors, college level math course. A lot of the other AP classes are going to be dropped, also." said Maria, another of his delightfully bright students.

He was sure it was more than rumor. Most of his classes had over thirty-five students; this one had twelve. There was only one other teacher who was even qualified to teach it, a delightfully irreverent Nigerian who had retired from the Navy and had a friggin' doctorate in math. The two men had become good friends, sharing their irreverence over lunch but he had hinted that he too needed to move on.

He would miss this class. They all had outrageously high SAT scores---particularly in math. They never goofed off or tried to get away with something. They all had first class minds and gave him hope that there actually would be bright people in leadership positions in the future. There were eight girls and four boys. Two of the boys were Asian, one was Indian and one was just a teacher's kid. Three of the eight girls were Asian, two were Pakistani and the other three, well, they were just terribly bright, amazingly mature, unreasonably long legged and devastatingly cute examples of good old fashioned, "marry and take home to meet your mother" Midwestern young womanhood.

Those three, well they certainly provided him with more than a couple of late night fantasies. If, heaven forbid, he should run into any of the three two years down the road...two years was actually written into the state law...He'd hit on them in a New York minute. Hell, he'd probably propose. And while he wouldn't think of flirting with a high school girl, he felt confident that under different circumstances, any of the three would have been interested.

"Okay, let's get back to work. No, I don't plan to be back here next year. I'm applying for another teaching job in another county. If it works out well, I may stay in teaching; if not, I don't know right now what I'll be doing."

A few minutes later as the class was deeply engrossed in what could only be called a near grad school level discussion of probability theory, sweet Rachel's eyes told him a visitor had slipped into the room. It was Mrs. Stewart, the principal.

Acknowledging her presence, he instructed the class to come to a conclusion and present it as soon as he got back and went out into the hall with Mrs. Stewart.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting; we get very engrossed in these discussions and I didn't even see you slip in."

"No apology required; I actually minored in math and remember enough to know that you've got those kids thinking way beyond a high school or even college freshman level. I don't want to take you away from them a minute longer than necessary. We discussed the fact that you're probably not coming back next year. You've probably heard that your AP math class is dead. In any event, I have spies everywhere...even in other counties. I know where you're going to be after school. I want to give you this. It's a letter of recommendation, a damned good one, if I do say so myself. I wrote it, but all of the assistant administrators also wanted to write addendums, which they did. We'll miss you here but where you're going, well, let's just say you'll be, I believe, happy. I hope you end up going home each day and drinking less cheap beer, but more than anything, I hope you get excited again and choose to stay in teaching. You're very, very good at this...please don't give it up. You were born to teach. Thank you. You need to go change before your interview; you're covered in chalk dust. Get out of here! I'll finish up your class...I'm dying to hear their conclusion!"

And to his complete shock, she gave him a hug. The old bitch gave him a hug. And he hugged her back.

Relieved to have a few extra minutes, he rushed to his shitty apartment to shave, give himself a quick wipe down and change into his best suit. He walked into the administrative office of what he hoped would be his new school just at four o'clock and introduced himself.

"Mr. Thompson, welcome to Hillcrest! I'm Becky, the school secretary---you made great time. Mr. Stanley will see you first, he's our principal; he's just finishing up with a parent conference and will be with you shortly. Please have a seat; there's coffee, soft drinks and water in the corner."

He watched people come and go; they were all smiling. They moved with purpose; they acknowledged each other. Before he had a chance to even look at his letter of recommendation, a man came out of any office guiding two parents, who were also smiling toward the door. It was if they were really good friends. He stood as the man turned, saw him, smiled and extended his hand.

"Greg Stanley! You must be Rob Thompson! Welcome! Come on back!

"Mr. Stanley, my pleasure."

"Please call me Greg; we're very informal here once the kids go home."

The office was warm, comfortable and friendly...and alien from where he had just come. Greg Stanley got right down to business as he indicated that Rob should sit on the sofa in front of his desk and joined him there.

"So, Rob, how'd you get into teaching?"

"Well, Greg, the short answer is, I needed a job."

And he then proceeded to give him the long version, to include his mom making him get a teacher's certificate and the loss of his job, apartment, car and fiancée while in Iraq. He told him about his current job; he told him about his AP math class. He told him that he had lost his enthusiasm. He wasn't negative or dour, he just didn't pull any punches.

"Greg, if you choose to hire me, I assure you I'll complete my contract but I can't guarantee you that I'll come back the following year. I enjoy the teaching part, I suppose in one form or another teaching is what I did in my private sector job---I was in sales--- and certainly an integral part of what I did in the military. But I can't go home every night feeling as if I didn't accomplish much, and other than my AP class and a few bright moments in which I knew I'd gotten through...well..."

"Rob, I've sat in this chair for almost fifteen years interviewing prospective teachers and I've heard every bull shit 'educationese' fairy tale answer you can imagine to the question of why someone became a teacher or why they want to be a teacher. Yours is without a doubt the most candid and brutally honest one I've ever listened to. I'm going to tell you something. First, thank you---you made my damned day! But more important, hell, you're well over the hump! Why do some of these young people that waltz in here become teachers? Well, for one thing they're naïve, idealistic simpletons who haven't got a clue what managing a classroom is all about. Second, they shunned the academic rigor of a real education and got a damned Ed degree---because we're so desperate for teachers in this country that we've watered down the curriculum.

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Keywords: Carol, and, Rob,


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