The fluorescent track lighting turned Roger’s olive complexion a sickly green and he looked even more like a swamp thing than usual as he glared at us.
“This is more important than the stupid budget, Roger,” Bob said.
“Yeah,” piped in Kendra, putting down her own coaching diagrams.
Touched by (nearly) everyone’s concern, I looked away and blinked a few times, willing myself not to show weakness in front of Roger.
“Jo’s room is fine in the morning, I think,” Carol said, taking control of the meeting, “until around eleven when the sun hits that part of the building.”
“She can switch rooms with me,” offered Alan. “I’m on the other side of the building and have the opposite sun pattern.” Alan was the rather studious African-American physics teacher. He taught just across the hall from me, but I didn’t know him very well. He kept to himself. Carol says it’s because he’s avoiding all eye contact until the open season for college letters of recommendations is over.
“Impractical,” Roger said dismissively. “Her room’s not set up for physics labs.”
“Why not my room then,” Kendra said.
“Her rooms not set up for physical science labs either,” Roger said, looking almost cheerful. He seemed to enjoy shooting down ideas.
I began to panic in earnest. On my salary, I could barely afford my tiny apartment, and had no savings to speak of. If I lost this job, I’d have to move back in with my parents.
Unexpectedly, it was not Carol or Becky, but Mary Mudget who leapt to my rescue, the knight with the iron-gray bun. “Well then, why doesn’t Jo teach biology in the afternoon? The semester ends in two weeks; it will hardly be a continuation issue, and she does have a degree in the subject.” She spoke mildly, as if we were discussing nothing more important than our spring vacation plans, her knitting needles clicking away in a blur of pink Angora. “Taking over my seventh grade classes is a little tricky because earth science is not my forte, but she could certainly switch with Bob and teach tenth grade biology.”
Roger gaped at her. He taught a mix of seventh and ninth grade science, showing his commitment to both Upper and Lower School and his versatility as a teacher. Because self-promotion comes as naturally as breathing to Roger, this had all been made clear to me within five minutes of meeting him. However, despite all the self-aggrandizing pomp, everyone knows he wants biology, the plum of high school science, but that was Bob’s job. Bob had a Ph.D. from Berkeley. Don’t ask me what Bob was doing teaching high school with those credentials. If I had ‘em, I’d be out of there faster than you can say “big paycheck”.
The idea that I, a green teacher, would get Roger’s coveted biology class turned the man’s face a deeper shade of red than my own sun-damaged one. “No!” he burst out. “It is inappropriate. The students, the parents…” he sputtered angrily.
“I think Roger’s right,” Carol said. She pitched her voice a little louder to cover my gasp of surprise. “It would be best for Jo’s students if she continued to teach them.”
Well that was something, I thought. At least she had implied I was a good teacher as she let me down.
She pulled some photocopied pages from her notebook and handed a copy to Roger. “I have three estimates for true blackout curtains for Jo’s room. They don’t let in any visible light and block a hundred percent of UV rays. But they do let air circulate.”
“Amazing what these new materials can do,” murmured Mary Mudget.
Roger frowned and tossed the estimates on the table. “Too expensive,” he said dismissively.
“Actually,” Carol said with smile that was just this side of a smirk, “they’re not. We have money in Jo’s budget for half, and Maxine will pitch in the balance from the Middle School President’s discretionary fund.”
“It’s about time someone could teach Astronomy properly in
“This is more important than the stupid budget, Roger,” Bob said.
“Yeah,” piped in Kendra, putting down her own coaching diagrams.
Touched by (nearly) everyone’s concern, I looked away and blinked a few times, willing myself not to show weakness in front of Roger.
“Jo’s room is fine in the morning, I think,” Carol said, taking control of the meeting, “until around eleven when the sun hits that part of the building.”
“She can switch rooms with me,” offered Alan. “I’m on the other side of the building and have the opposite sun pattern.” Alan was the rather studious African-American physics teacher. He taught just across the hall from me, but I didn’t know him very well. He kept to himself. Carol says it’s because he’s avoiding all eye contact until the open season for college letters of recommendations is over.
“Impractical,” Roger said dismissively. “Her room’s not set up for physics labs.”
“Why not my room then,” Kendra said.
“Her rooms not set up for physical science labs either,” Roger said, looking almost cheerful. He seemed to enjoy shooting down ideas.
I began to panic in earnest. On my salary, I could barely afford my tiny apartment, and had no savings to speak of. If I lost this job, I’d have to move back in with my parents.
Unexpectedly, it was not Carol or Becky, but Mary Mudget who leapt to my rescue, the knight with the iron-gray bun. “Well then, why doesn’t Jo teach biology in the afternoon? The semester ends in two weeks; it will hardly be a continuation issue, and she does have a degree in the subject.” She spoke mildly, as if we were discussing nothing more important than our spring vacation plans, her knitting needles clicking away in a blur of pink Angora. “Taking over my seventh grade classes is a little tricky because earth science is not my forte, but she could certainly switch with Bob and teach tenth grade biology.”
Roger gaped at her. He taught a mix of seventh and ninth grade science, showing his commitment to both Upper and Lower School and his versatility as a teacher. Because self-promotion comes as naturally as breathing to Roger, this had all been made clear to me within five minutes of meeting him. However, despite all the self-aggrandizing pomp, everyone knows he wants biology, the plum of high school science, but that was Bob’s job. Bob had a Ph.D. from Berkeley. Don’t ask me what Bob was doing teaching high school with those credentials. If I had ‘em, I’d be out of there faster than you can say “big paycheck”.
The idea that I, a green teacher, would get Roger’s coveted biology class turned the man’s face a deeper shade of red than my own sun-damaged one. “No!” he burst out. “It is inappropriate. The students, the parents…” he sputtered angrily.
“I think Roger’s right,” Carol said. She pitched her voice a little louder to cover my gasp of surprise. “It would be best for Jo’s students if she continued to teach them.”
Well that was something, I thought. At least she had implied I was a good teacher as she let me down.
She pulled some photocopied pages from her notebook and handed a copy to Roger. “I have three estimates for true blackout curtains for Jo’s room. They don’t let in any visible light and block a hundred percent of UV rays. But they do let air circulate.”
“Amazing what these new materials can do,” murmured Mary Mudget.
Roger frowned and tossed the estimates on the table. “Too expensive,” he said dismissively.
“Actually,” Carol said with smile that was just this side of a smirk, “they’re not. We have money in Jo’s budget for half, and Maxine will pitch in the balance from the Middle School President’s discretionary fund.”
“It’s about time someone could teach Astronomy properly in
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