Katie wagged her yogurt spoon at me. “Don’t stress about it. Seriously, everyone knows you’re a great teacher. What would she do, fire you? Why would she even want to?”
A fair question. But the answer wasn’t something I wanted to share with Katie. Not because I thought she’d disagree with me. The opposite, actually. I was pretty sure if I told her, she’d get righteously indignant and march over to Adair Elementary, demanding to speak to Anne herself.
Katie had a big heart, and I didn’t want it to get her into trouble.
The other possibility was that I’d explain what was going on and she’d tell me I was being paranoid. And from anyone else’s perspective, it probably seemed like I was.
I mean, how do you explain that you’re pretty sure that your new principal only took the position—that she uprooted herself from a much better paying job as a private educational consultant—for the express purpose of driving you out of the school that you teach at and her children attend?
You don’t. Not without sounding insane, anyway. But I was pretty sure that was what had happened.
I’d barely known who Anne Henderson was last year. She’d just been the parent of some of the younger kids at my school. I’d seen her around a few times, but never exchanged anything more than the casual hello.
That all changed at a family literacy night last May. I’d read a story about a girl who builds a spaceship in her backyard—a girl who happens to have two dads. The two-dads part is barely even mentioned, but I remembered Anne’s face going dark as I read, remembered the hushed conversations she had with other parents after, and I definitely remembered the way she’d demanded a meeting with me the next day, insisting that I apologize for forcing a radical agenda on the students of Adair Elementary.
When I refused to apologize, Anne had taken it up with Eileen Ross, who was retiring at the end of the year. And when Eileen declined to get involved, Anne escalated her complaint to the superintendent. There’d been a formal investigation, a hearing, and a full school board vote, all to determine if I’d done anything wrong by reading a children’s book.
It would almost be funny, if it hadn’t actually happened to me. As far as I knew, the Hendersons weren’t members of my dad’s church, but they might as well have been, for the way Anne reacted. I’d spent the summer waiting to find out if I’d be ‘cleared’ of any wrongdoing. Anne spent the summer refusing to let it drop.
The school board ended up declaring me innocent in a vote of four to three. I was notified on July 17th. And on July 19th, the board announced that Anne Henderson was taking over for Principal Ross.
She’d made it her mission to make my life hell since then. All because of a book where a pair of dads get four speaking lines altogether, a book most of the kids had forgotten by now. And this was when she assumed I was straight.
I shuddered to think what she’d do if she knew I was bi.
“You’re probably right,” I told Katie, making myself smile. “It’s just stress. It’ll pass.”
Anne Henderson didn’t know I was bisexual, and neither did anyone else on Summersea. It was best for everyone—Katie especially—if it stayed that way.
“Anyway,” I said, pushing back my chair, “you need to get going if you want time to shower before school.”
Katie made a face as she stood up. “Gross. Showers are lame.”
“Are you sure your neighbor in first period geometry shares that opinion?”
“It’s first period trig.” Katie stuck her tongue out. “If you’re going to insult me, at least get it right.”
“Insult you? I would never. Best brother in the universe, remember?”
Katie rolled her eyes and grabbed a banana. “One for the road. See you Sunday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I really wouldn’t. I’d put up with anything from my parents if it meant keeping Katie in my life, and keeping her safe.
I waved Katie off, hooking an ankle around Gretchen to keep her from scampering outside too. Irrepressible. That was my sister. And Gretchen, to be honest. I just needed to harvest some of their energy to get through the rest of this week.
Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to my face, I turned to get ready for work.
It was a fifteen-minute walk from my bungalow to Adair Elementary. I drove sometimes, if I had a lot of materials to bring to class, but this morning I opted for the walk, hoping it would calm my nerves.
I got there by 7:00 a.m., well before teachers were actually expected to get to the building, and definitely before Anne Henderson would come to my classroom to start the evaluation, if she were doing it today.
Or so I thought.
But as I stepped inside the old, tabby-walled building and turned down the hall where the second and third grade classrooms lay, my heart sank. Anne was standing outside my classroom, staring at her watch. Her head snapped up at the sound of my footfalls, and she transferred her glare to me.
“Good morning, Anne.” I kept my voice casual. As light as I could. “How’re you doing today?”
“Is this when you usually arrive at school?” she asked, ignoring my question.
I blinked. “Most days? When I walk here, anyway.”
“Hmm.” Anne looked down at the clipboard cradled in her arms, marking something off judiciously. “I would have expected earlier.”
Earlier? I was here an hour and a half before any students would show up. Did she expect me to sleep here overnight?
I decided it was best not to answer that, so I nodded and unlocked my door instead. I gestured for Anne to enter the room, then followed her in. As soon as I’d entered, she fired another question at me.
“Do you usually walk? Even though it limits your ability to transport the necessary educational materials you’ll need to do your job effectively?”
I paused, forcing myself to think through my answer. “I didn’t actually have a lot to bring in with me today. It’s the middle of the week. I try to bring in most of what I’ll need for the week on Monday mornings.”
“Hmm,” Anne repeated, perusing her clipboard again. I couldn’t see what she was writing, but she held her pen in a way that gave me chills.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, I began setting up my classroom for the day. I tried making conversation with Anne a couple more times, but she didn’t respond, so eventually I gave up and concentrated on organizing the bookshelves, putting my kids’ work into their folders, and writing the day’s objectives on the board.
My first evaluation had been with Adriana López, a fifth grade teacher who’d been a mentor of mine since I’d started at Adair Elementary five years ago. She’d always given me great feedback, and I enjoyed having her in my room, getting a chance to get more pointers from her. I hadn’t stressed about that eval and had been happy with the results.
Then Anne had gotten ahold of the report and declared it suspect. Apparently, Adriana had rated me too highly, and allowed our personal relationship to color her judgement. If you asked me, it was Anne whose objectivity was in question, but as my principal, she had the authority to insist that she be the one to perform my spring evaluation.
Needless to say, I was not looking forward to today, but I was grateful when the bell finally rang and my kids began to file into the room. Some asked me about the homework from last night, others bubbled over with stories from the playground, and a few of the quieter ones smiled shyly and went right to their seats.