Those of you who do not know me personally may not know that after 13 years of teaching and directing theatre at a local private school, my husband was fired on Friday. FIRED. Not laid off, not asked to resign, but fired. Escorted off campus, email deleted, computer and files confiscated, no severance, fired.
I know.
It sounds really bad.
What do you have to DO to be fired like that? Especially when all the students and all the families love you. Especially after THIRTEEN years.
Oh God, it was something “inappropriate” with a student, wasn’t it? No? Well, he must have been on drugs, or stealing money from the school, or letting kids do drugs, or letting kids steal money from the school? No? Well he must have called his boss a bitch. Wait. That was me, just now. So what did he DO?
Well, he did his job. He covered an overbooked class for his co-teacher who was out for the day. He didn’t jump up and down and whine when the school failed to provide a substitute, even though that meant the class was way above the published student to teacher ratio. He didn’t go crying to the administration that it would be just impossible for him to handle all these students alone when this was the day that he had to stand behind a camera in a green screen studio and film just two students at a time in absolute silence. He didn’t stomp his foot and say that there was NO WAY one teacher could do that since this was a school whose entire population is made up of kids with ADHD and other learning differences. What would be the point? After all, clearly the school was strapped. The administration had already tapped all the teachers to teach extra classes outside their positions. Math teachers were teaching Spanish. Mike was suddenly teaching history, as well as theatre, and also working the front desk. Clearly, the $40,000 tuition wasn’t enough to cover additional support.
So, he did the best he could. He filmed most of the class, and when a few high school students, who were finished filming, asked if they could sit in the common study area in the hallway, because they were having trouble staying quiet and still enough in the classroom (go ADHD self-advocacy!) to have a study hall for the remaining portion of class, he consented. While they were out there, one kid bullied another kid.
Mike saw the footage on surveillance (the day before he got fired, back when it was no big deal) and said it was horrifying.
I was picturing a fist fight, someone trapped in a locker, a boy with his hand up a girl’s skirt. Nope. It was some asshole kid who kept reaching over and closing another kid’s computer. Eventually, the kid being bullied stood up and shoved the other kid out of the way and walked off as the bell rang. Mike didn’t see it, and that’s why he was fired.
HELLO? What? Am I the only person who went to public school? This was my EVERYDAY experience on the school bus. Maybe not just mine, but always someone’s. Did it suck? Yes. Did we all wish someone would throw that asshole UNDER the bus? Yes. Did anyone fire the friendly bus driver for not being able to keep his eyes on the road (camera) and also on the students in the back? No. A few of the more concerned parents asked for a bus monitor (aka: co-teacher) but, well, just like my husband’s school, they didn’t have the resources either. Wait… ok, maybe that doesn’t exactly translate.
But I’ve skipped ahead. I promised the five stages of pissed-off. So…
Stage One:
Disbelief: Mike calls me an hour after he’s supposed the be on the road. His hours, but not his pay, have been extended this year in order to cover the history (?) class he’s teaching. We’ve decided that though he cannot shorten rehearsals from 2 hours to 45 minutes (as the administration has suggested) and still have a production that is successful for the students, he can at least leave at his scheduled time on Fridays in order to participate in bedtime for our youngest children. I’ve been looking out at the driveway for twenty-minutes, growing irritated.
He tells me he has been fired. I feel EXACTLY as I did when I received word that my mother had died in a crowded restaurant with her finger in her drink: it is the stupidest thing I can imagine. I refuse to believe that it is real. Instead, I feel dizzy and sick and assume I must be dreaming. It’s so trite, but how else to explain a world where suddenly the dining room table is in the bathroom and the bed has been set up in the kitchen sink? It makes no sense.
Stage Two:
Dismissal: I’ve told the kids so Mike won’t have to. We’ve had an hour to get through all the tears and all the “Will I be able to have a birthday party? How will we eat? Do we have to live in our car?” The kids have piled up all the school uniforms they wore when they attended Mike’s school, as well as all awards received from the school (including the very most prestigious Head of School Award) in the hall. They are stomping on them. I explain that the school’s bad behavior in no way invalidates their own accomplishments. I’ve just about finished patching the holes in various certificates when Mike finally gets home. I put on my best Martin Luther King, Jr. voice. “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!” It’s no secret that Mike has been weighed down and depressed by the animosity of the administration over the last several months. Fuck them. Who cares.
Stage Three:
Abject Terror: We’ve survived the first couple hours of this brave new world. The little girls are in bed. I’ve made a whiskey run. We decide to continue with life as usual: Friday = movie night. Netflix won’t work. Amazon won’t work. Everything in our lives is run through Mike’s email account, and his account has been deleted. I realize that we haven’t yet paid any bills this month and we have $16 in our saving account. I burst into tears and go outside to call anyone who can help us while Mike creates a new email address.
Stage Four:
Optimism/Denial: I’ve decided that what happened doesn’t matter. We are moving forward into the next best thing. We are blessed (and I mean that in the truest sense of the word) to be surrounded by love and support from so many people. Friends show up with baked goods and gift cards and I’m convinced that this experience has been placed here to shepherd us on to a future beyond our imagining, while teaching us the value of connection. I secretly start comparing our situation to a natural disaster that brings out the best in everyone involved.
Stage Five:
Unadulterated Rage: I’ve now had four days to stew. Our mortgage is paid. Our fridge is full of cheese sticks and milk. I’m so, so grateful, and then… blindingly angry. Because we didn’t ask for this. We did absolutely NOTHING that would require that we depend on the kindness of friends and strangers to provide for our most basic needs. I want to burn someone’s house down. I write imaginary letters to Mike’s boss in which I assail her with the the most cutting things I can imagine: “You are a terrible mother, and everyone thinks so; people feel sorry for your kids.” I imagine launching a tactical strike against the entire administration, weighing the pros and cons of publicizing every piece of dirty laundry I’ve been privy to in the last dozen years. I listen to Brandy Clark’s Stripes (“I’ve got a pistol and I’ve got a bullet and a pissed off finger, just itching to pull it…”) on repeat all the way to the free gym where I slam a sixteen pound leather ball into the floor as if it had a face.
I’m stymied by the fact that my husband is STILL so concerned about his students that he spent the weekend trying to figure out how to get the best person his old job so that the production the students were so excited about can continue. He won’t even entertain Grey’s fabulous idea to roll the headmaster’s house with a few rolls of our donated toilet paper.
GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!! I haven’t an inch of grace of in me, and I DARE my pastor (who is thankfully on sabbatical) to tell me I should find one. All I can think of is every night that Mike spent at that school until 4am building and painting sets (and all the nights I spent with him, in various stages of pregnancy) so the students would have the experience of performing on a professional stage. All I can think of is him sitting at the dining room table at midnight, his hands fisted in his hair, because some student had been outted as gay, or had their mother walk out, or perhaps, not-so-accidentally, overdosed on their grandmother’s pain pills. And I’m furious. Because if that level of dedication is “gross negligence” then I want the last 12 fucking years of my life back. I want a husband who comes home at 5:00, no better or worse than I left him, ready to eat dinner with his family and put his children to bed. I want a husband who, when hearing that we have to deliver our twins six weeks early by emergency C-section, drops the camera on the ground without thinking for a second about what will happen to all those costumed students in the middle of their final day of filming. I want to have eaten hamburger, and gone to Disney World, and to have one of those ridiculous things called a retirement account. And if I can’t have that, if it’s too late for that, then I want to be General Sherman, and burn the whole fucking thing down to the ground.
Stage Six:
???: I’m not there yet. I’ve heard that I will be filled with grace and mercy and know that things always work out for the best. Ok. Whatever. I’m going to have to take your word for it. But, as always, I’ll keep you posted.
Until then, this Bearded Lady is holding tight to that Strong Man and all those ridiculous clowns, and stepping out on the tightrope, refusing to look down.
Melissa
“Until then, this Bearded Lady is holding tight to that Strong Man and all those ridiculous clowns, and stepping out on the tightrope, refusing to look down.”
That’s all you can do, right now, and that is ok. At least you’re not “fine.” Lol
Jen
Girl, the last thing I ever confess to is being “fine.” Wonderful, yes. Grateful, yes. Struggling and pissed off, absolutely. But “Fine” never. “Fine” feels like the place honesty goes to die. Good luck with your own tightrope walk, love.
Michelle
Stage six will be when he gets a new job, and it’s a better job than the one he just lost. You’ll feel glad that you believed in him. My husband lost (was fired) his job in May, and I think you nailed all the emotions that you go through. I was angry enough for the two of us. I’m still hoping for some Schadenfreude for the little weeny who set up his downfall. My hubby started his new job last week, and this one is much better than his last one. Good luck to you and yours.
Jen
Michelle,
I’m so happy you have light to report from the other end of the tunnel! Congrats on the new, and better place.
Heidi Hoeft
Your writing gives me chills.
Jen
Well, Heidi, this particular one gives me chills too. Love you…
Becca
Seriouly, what the hell?! I’d want to burn that mother down too! I’m so sorry. So incredibly stupid and trite. I do, however, think that this may be one of those door-got-burned-down-so-another-opened kind of situations (that’s the saying, right?). So hang in there. And hide the matches. 🙂 Love to you and yours. Truly.
Cat
mad? mad?! MAD?! I AM LIVID. I was already livid. I thought livid was livid and that was that. no. Aparently there is this other sort of livd that makes me feel cold instead of hot. Having gone to that school for 5 years(not counting the few months I was away) I know for damn sure that every teacher I EVER had there sent/granted permission for a few students to be in the hall or a lounge area when we weren’t needed. Bullying? Oh it happened. They didn’t fire the person who didn’t see somebody get punched in the face but they fired Mike?! They didn’t fire the STAFF MEMBER that outed me to another student and lead to bullying, but they fired Mike!? I’m angry. I am angry in a way that I have no words for. Because by this logic I can think of many other people that should have been fired. By this logic the headmistress should have been fired when I was there because when her back was turned I SLAPPED another student. Nobody but me and that student got in trouble. Because that was how it was supposed to be.
I could keep writing but it is probably better I stop and go outside and scream for a while.
I love all of you and I am horrified and angered at what has happened. You are all in my thoughts. hang in there.
-Cat
Jen
Cat,
Thank you for your comment. We love you so much. Yes, it is infuriating. But I do think it’s important to note that all schools, all institutions, hell, all people, occasionally make horrible mistakes like this one. I join you in your righteous anger (obviously) but I hope that you will remember that it is a good school, with TONS of great teachers, that does a lot of good for a lot of a students. I hope this won’t color your memory of your own experience there. Just remember: what is, doesn’t change what was. xo.
Laura Brown
I read this – my heart started racing. How dare he be dismissed because he couldn’t do the job of two people! How dare he be dismissed after years of dutiful service. How dare he be dismissed from teaching at a school with kids who are At Risk when there aren’t enough teachers … public or private … who have not just the talent to TEACH and REACH students in great need but who also have the stamina to keep up with the INs and OUTs of teaching because it’s not a job where you ‘show up-teach-leave’.
Not in the slightest. Teaching, good teaching, starts early in the morning and sometimes carries over to the wee hours of the next morning. You cannot turn it off and just leave it behind like some so-called teachers do so they can enjoy their weekend party time.
No. A real teacher lives it & breathes it. They worry about their students. They pray for them. They cry for them. They fight for them. That’s what a real teacher does! And by God, after all I’ve read about your husband thanks to your words – he fits the bill as a bona fide teacher to the nth degree.
I taught for several years at a private school in South Carolina for students with Learning Disabilities (you know, the ones people ‘recognize’) and Learning Difficulties (the ‘gray space kids’ not quite LD but struggling like an LD kid) and about 90% of those kids had ADD/ADHD. I taught history, science, and drama. And I covered classes for teachers – literally going from my room to their room for 5 minutes at a time. Anything could have happened in either class in those 5 minute spans of time – thankfully it didn’t.
I’ve been in that ‘I want to help out the teacher, the students, and the school at the same time’ position before and I can say 100% faith that he should NOT have been dismissed. If anything, I would say the termination was wrongful because the school (regardless of whether it is public or private) is bound by law to provide substitutes when a salaried employ (teacher/coach) is not available. Look carefully in his contract(s) – which hopefully you have a copy of – try to find anything about ‘an employee hired as a salaried full-time teacher being required to act as a substitute’
You won’t find it. By law – a teacher isn’t supposed to be asked to substitute for another teacher – not even during their planning period.
I’d find an attorney – one who loves going after A-hole School Administrators who use the ‘fire the person trying to help because we, the administration, didn’t want to hire a substitute or… gasp… leave our offices and take over the spot until a real substitute could come in’ method to cover their asses when they realize ‘oops, technically we were supposed to fill that slot so we breached our end of the contract and now mommies and daddies are going to be pissed with us.’
Yeah, it was a piss-poor reason to fire him.
Gotta stop. Heart racing. Must calm down. Geez, reading this reminded me why I HAD to retire from teaching. After 12 years I was like ‘Nope, I’m going to go bat-shit crazy, like padded room – Crayola crayon coloring, bonkers if I keep teaching.’ It’s sad too – I LOVED teaching. It was the other bullshit I couldn’t handle anymore.
Love to you and yours.
Laura – your (not nearly as bat-shit crazy as she used to be) cousin!
Jen
Laura,
You are right. For those called to education as a vocation, and not just a job, teaching is so much more than a full time job. And for those involved in schools (public or private) there is always a lot more involved than just teaching and grading papers. I’m always dumbfounded by people who think teachers ACTUALLY work just 8-3 with the summers off. It’s like saying an executive only works the hours that they are actively involved in meetings. Laughable in any other context. Thank you so much for your support cousin.
Becca L
unfreakingbelievable. Mike has worked so hard there for so long, it seems just insane to me that they would let him go so heartlessly. I can’t imagine how shocking and difficult this must be for you guys. Sending love love love.
Jen
Thank you. Someday, we’ll look back on this and… what? I guess we’ll find out. xo
Jo
So sorry to hear this. You must be so angry – hold tight to the important stuff and try to believe it’ll all work out for the best. In the meantime, find something satisfying to kick! Sending all good wishes your way.
Jen
Ha! A friend sent my children one of those clowns you inflate and beat the crap out of… it might not last until Halloween.
Bonnie
They do say that when one door closes another one opens. I don’t know who the heck “they” are but I will say that I have seen that happen. Hold on for the next stage…Rejoicing…why the hell didn’t we leave sooner! 🙂
Jen
Holding on girl, holding on…Thank you.