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“No. I’m sorry. Your presence here has become a nuisance. Reporters continue to attempt to sneak onto the grounds, taking security away from their job. Last week, one of the tenth graders pulled a knife in the locker room and nearly stabbed a rival for his girlfriend’s attention. Thankfully, Mr. Betters was able to intervene, but it’s not the PE teacher’s job to handle knife fights.” She sighed. “And that doesn’t even touch on the number of parent complaints I’ve received from parents whose students have been approached and offered money for videos of you teaching. Or answering personal questions.”
Which explained the number of personal questions I’d been asked all week. Chances were high the kids had gotten together and decided to split the money. Then one could film and the other could draw my attention away. Because they knew—or they ought to know—that I wasn’t allowing them to use their phones openly in my class. That was a long-standing rule.
I also didn’t answer personal questions.
They’d been finding that out.
“I’d like to point out that I haven’t indulged this. Those kids have gotten nowhere.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve had frustrated parents calling about that, as well, as they’d appreciate the extra money that you could provide very easily.”
I sighed. “There are only six weeks left in the year.”
“Yes. Exactly. Only four of those, typically, will be actual instruction. We all know the final two weeks of school are usually much lighter when it comes to school work. So a long-term sub versed in mathematics should be perfectly capable of running your classes for the remainder of the term.” She held up her hand when I opened my mouth to speak. “I don’t think you understand that your option has been removed. I’m placing you on administrative leave. Your contract is not renewed. The sub should be here in another five minutes or so, I expect you to get him set up and then leave the premises and I don’t anticipate seeing you again except in the papers.”
I wasn’t one for violence, usually, but the thin almost-smirk she gave me pushed me closer than I’d ever been.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded once and stood.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Mr. Campbell. I know what belongs to the school and what doesn’t.” She stood as well.
“If you think I’d take anything from these kids—any single thing—you don’t know me at all. Which, I guess if we look at the situation, we can see is the case. So you know, I’d be within my rights to take the two classroom sets of graphing calculators I purchased with my own money. But I won’t. Because my kids deserve access to them. And you declined the purchase request every year I worked here.” It seemed like a good enough exit line, so I turned and marched from the office.
One of the secretaries called out a greeting. I managed to smile and give a brief wave, but didn’t stop to chat like I normally would have. She’d find out why soon enough. It was better not coming from me, anyway. Let the rumor mill spin things however they needed to.
I was out.
Anger churned in my gut, but I forced myself to breathe as I climbed the stairs to my classroom. Maybe I’d have a few minutes to take a last look and collect my few personal belongings. I didn’t actually have many. School wasn’t the place for that. I was all about the math. And I wanted my students focused on the math, too.
But of course, because that was how today was going, the long-term sub was already sitting at my desk when I got there.
He stood and extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Don Fellows. I guess I’m filling in until the end of the year. Math, right?”
I nodded as I shook his hand. “That’s what they tell me. You’re comfortable with calculus, I hope?”
“Calc?” Don’s eyes widened. “Well, it’s been a few years. I’ll just stay a few chapters ahead, I guess.”
Great. Fantastic. I gave a tight smile and reached into my bag for the composition notebook I used to make notes about lesson plans. Should I just tear out the relevant pages? No. It wasn’t like I’d be doing this again. I handed it to him. “Here are the lesson plans. The binder clip is at this week. I have a few ideas sketched out for each class for next week, as well, but they need some refinement. I guess you’ll figure it out.”
“Can I reach out with questions?”
I wanted to say no. It wasn’t the right response. No matter how wrong this seemed right now, none of it was Don’s fault. And yet, I also didn’t want him getting in trouble. “It’s fine with me, but you should probably talk to Principal Sanders first. Since I’m guessing she’ll say no, I’ll let Ms. Henderson know you might need help. She’s great. Three doors down on the left.”
“Anything I need to know other than this?” Don lifted the lesson plan book.
It was all I could do not to laugh. Yeah, bud, there was a lot more you should know. You could start with calculus and go from there. He’d figure it out. If he didn’t? Most of my students were decent kids.
They probably wouldn’t eat him alive.
“Most likely. But you won’t know until you know. If Sanders okays it, feel free to reach out. Otherwise, definitely get Jess to lend a hand.” I looked around the classroom one last time, then reached for the bottom left drawer of my desk. I had a few little things there—emergency granola bar, a Koosh ball for thinking time, that sort of stuff. It all fit in my bag. “Good luck.”
I left my classroom and headed to Kayla’s. I didn’t want her finding out through the grapevine.
I knocked on her classroom door. Unlike my room, the lab already had a handful of students sitting at computers, working furiously to get homework done. Kayla was leaning over a student’s shoulder, pointing at her monitor.
She glanced up, grinned, and held up a finger.
I stayed just outside the door. This wouldn’t take long, and I didn’t want to do anything that risked Sanders’ wrath.
