9. Will
WILL
Imoved fast, but not fast enough to stop Julian from bashing Yareli’s head against the wall.
“Stop!”
My instincts told me to grab Julian and restrain him, but that wasn’t what I did. I did what the textbook told me to do; I went to the victim first. The idea was to deny the aggressor negative attention.
I scooped Yareli up and held her to my chest. “Are you okay?”
She nodded through her tears. Julian, however, was not okay.
With Yareli out of the way, he moved on to trashing the room. He started with the math manipulatives, and within seconds, every counting bear, tangram, Unifix cube, chain link, and pattern block was on the floor.
“Julian, go to your safe space and take some breaths.” It took all my strength to remain calm.
“She took the blue one. I wanted the blue one.”
Fuck this. After school, I was removing everything blue from the room—every book, block, shovel, you name it. Julian was obsessed with the character Catboy, who was blue, and firmly believed everything blue belonged to him, and if he didn’t get it, he lost his shit.
“Julian, walk over to your safe space and take some breaths.”
“You’re a fucking bitch, and I’m gonna make you sorry.” He threw a pair of scissors at my head and barely missed me.
I walked over to the phone, still holding Yareli, and called the office. “I need support in 203.”
Mary, the school secretary, gave me a knowing shake of her head and a sympathetic “Ay, papi” as I walked past her into Principal King’s office during my lunch.
A few more weeks, and it would be summer vacation: Jones Beach, Coney Island, and waiting all day for free Shakespeare in the Park tickets.
I just had to survive. I just had to sit through another one of King’s lectures.
I sat in my usual chair and stared up at the giant inspirational poster of Theodore Roosevelt on the wall. “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care,” it read.
Principal King sat across from me. She was a smoke-stained, leather-skinned, wildly unpredictable woman. One day she’d suggest the kids needed more love and snacks, and the next she’d scream at me for not yelling more. “Sometimes you have to raise your voice to be heard, Mr. Chapman.”
She folded her hands and smiled at me from behind her desk. Her brittle auburn hair curled an inch above her shoulders, and I could tell by the way she kept glancing out the window that she was craving a cigarette.
She didn’t say anything for probably twenty seconds. Then she opened her drawer and pulled out a copy of US Weekly. “Looks like you had a fun weekend.”
“It was all right.” Jesus! US Weekly picked up the story, too?
King flipped through the magazine until she came to the page she wanted, the photo of me getting into Ryan’s car. “Why exactly are you still here, Mr. Chapman?”
“What?”
She stood, walked over to a low bookshelf, and flicked on an electric kettle.
“Well, you’re not exactly doing yourself any favors.
Or your students, for that matter.” She pulled a wet tea bag from her mug and dropped it in the trash.
“This isn’t just a job, William. It’s a lifestyle, a calling. It’s not an experiment or penance.”
“That’s not—”
She held up a hand, silencing me. “It’s no secret this has been a difficult year for you. A difficult couple of years, really.”
“I’ve had a few hard classes, but—”
“Let me give you some advice, Mr. Chapman. Don’t blame the kids.
Don’t ever blame the kids. It’s not the kids.
It’s never the kids.” She dumped three packets of Splenda into her mug.
“I don’t think you’re a bad teacher. Sometimes, I walk by your classroom and hear you playing the guitar and singing and think, Give this man his own kids’ show already.
They would absolutely adore you in Westchester or Long Island.
Hell, I’d put my own grandkids in your class.
But this isn’t Westchester or Long Island. This is a different population.”
“What happened to it’s not the kids?” I said.
“It’s not.” I thought she was going to go all Mr. Hyde on me, but she smoothed her skirt and stood there waiting for the kettle to boil. “If you’d like to apply for a job elsewhere, I’d be more than happy to write you a glowing letter of recommendation.”
“That’s good to know.” Just a few more weeks.
King dropped a fresh tea bag into her mug.
“Just something to think about. I think you’d be happier.
You’re going to burn out at the rate you’re going.
I’ve seen it happen time and time again.
” She looked out the window, no doubt picturing her next cigarette.
“I wonder how you’d do teaching fifth grade next year? ”
She wouldn’t.
The door flew open, and Julian came running in, followed closely by Mrs. Cruz, one of the lunch aides.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Cruz said, reaching for the boy, who was now firmly wrapped around my waist.
“Excuse me, young man,” King snapped. “We’re in the middle of a private meeting. Out of my office this instant!”
Julian’s eyes went wide before welling with tears. Why was King yelling at Julian? He didn’t do anything to her.
“I understand your tone was meant for me,” I said, breathing through my anger. “But can you please ask nicely next time?”
I turned my attention away from my boss and focused on Julian. My nostrils flared, taking in the familiar smell. “Julian, go with Mrs. Cruz to the nurse’s office. I’ll meet you there with a change of clothes and help you get cleaned up, okay?”
Julian trusted only two people to change him: his grandmother and me. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes, not believing I would actually come.
“I promise, I’ll be right behind you.”
Julian still didn’t want to let me go, but Mrs. Cruz was able to pry him off.
Before they left, King stepped around her desk and crouched down to Julian’s level. “I’m sorry for yelling. I shouldn’t have done that. Mr. Chapman is right. I should’ve asked you nicely. If I promise to ask nicely next time, will you promise to knock before coming into my office?”
Julian looked to me for guidance, and when I nodded, so did he.
“You know, if you could advocate for yourself half as well as you advocate for your students, you might actually be a halfway decent teacher,” King said when we were alone again.
I swallowed the lump of bitterness in my throat. “I should probably go help Julian get cleaned up.”
King took a sip of her tea and smiled over the rim of her mug. “Thank you for your time, William. Think about what I said. You have more options than you realize.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood, nodded, and left.
“Mr. Chapman, I feel terrible asking you this”—Mary started unrolling a large poster—“but I promised my daughter I would.” Ryan Ashbury’s face stared back at me, his lustrous blond curls spilling from the curve of the poster.
“Is there any way you could get this autographed for her? She’s obsessed with Blood Brothers. ”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and held out my hand. “Sure, no problem.”
Tiffany added another armload of blue to the pile at the end of the day. “So, have you decided if you’re going to Vermont or not? Miles tells me the dog-sitter your mom hired is smoking hot.”
I grabbed the job chart off the wall and started rotating everyone down a spot. “Why would I want to waste my summer taking everyone’s coffee orders?”
It was ridiculous. My dad was dying, and he wanted to run lines as if everything were normal, as if I were still a little kid who couldn’t wait to grow up and be just like Daddy. And so what if the dog-sitter was hot? All of Mom’s assistants were hot. Besides, James was straight. He had a kid.
“Yeah, but it’s right on the lake, and there are horses and boats and Ben and Jerry’s.”
“You know we have all that shit right here, don’t you?” I picked up my guitar and started tuning it because Awa had turned all the knobs again. “You can still go without me. My mom would be thrilled to have you. You could help her plan the wedding. I’m sure you’d be great at wrangling swans.”
“That’s true. I really would say boo to a goose.” Tiffany made her way to my library, where the books were spilling from their baskets. “What did King want? Let me guess, you’re getting a new student?”
“Even better. She threatened to move me up to fifth grade next year if I don’t apply for a new job on Long Island. But don’t worry, she’ll write me a glowing letter of recommendation.” I set my guitar down and headed over to the easel to write the next day’s morning message.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled the cap off the blue Expo marker, then, catching myself, tossed it onto the growing pile.
“Come on, we’ll finish up here, and then I’ll buy you a margarita and some nachos.” Tiffany started shoving all the blue stuff into garbage bags for storage.
“I can’t.”
“Too many calories? Is Miles going to give you a spanking?”
“Probably, but that’s not why. I told my brother I’d meet him for dinner.”
“Oh, poor you. I can’t believe you have to go have dinner with your movie-star brother at some fancy restaurant.”
Tiffany was right, of course. I had no right to complain. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to lying to Andy all night. He was going to be furious when he found out I knew Dad was dying and didn’t tell him.
Tiffany pulled a peanut butter cup from her purse and tossed it to me. “Are you still coming to trivia on Thursday?”
I didn’t want to, but we had a title to defend. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”