“…psych you out in the end!”

In the lull between the end of the song that’s played for the opening credits to my favorite TV show and the beginning of the next scene, I could hear footsteps somewhere down the hall. The final bell rang 30 minutes ago, which meant the kids were gone and I could play Psych in the background while I completed my laundry list of tasks before my students arrive again tomorrow morning.

I’m finishing recording a stack of graded papers into my color coded spreadsheet when the footsteps stop in my doorway. I glance up and immediately wish I hadn’t.

“Johnson.”

_I’m not a basketball player_, I think. “Mr. Santos,” I say aloud, “How can I help you?”

“We have an IEP meeting tomorrow at 10:00am.”

“I thought it was at 10:30?”

“It was, but we needed to move it up.”

“Who will be covering my class at the time? I like to know so I can tailor my plans for them.”

Mr. Santos rolls his eyes. I bite back the urge to growl. “Not sure, but we’ll get someone.”

I take a deep breath and force my lips to curl up a little on the corners. “Okay, thanks for the update. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No, that’s all. How are things?”

“Things are fine.” Not even I believe it.

“Are they really? You seem off.” He’s pressing again.

_You asked for it,_ I think. I say out loud, “I’m feeling a little frustrated that I’ve asked a few times to talk about the new school-wide behavior plans but they haven’t been brought up in the last two meetings we have had. I feel like my concerns, which are shared among colleagues, aren’t being heard or addressed. Otherwise, I, and others, are feeling like we are constantly being asked to do more and more but nothing is being taken off our plates. So we’re tired. Beyond all that, things are fine.”

He stares in that infuriating way he does. Sort of smiling. Sort of vacant. He nods his head. I know nothing will come of this, but I’m tired of ‘playing nice’ when all it does is make it seem like we are all fine with how we’re treated.

“I’ll have my class ready for someone to cover tomorrow at 10,” I say, hoping the vice principal will get the hint and leave. He doesn’t.

Instead, he asks “Is it Mike?”

I feel my eyes twitch and narrow slightly. I take another deep breath. “Excuse me?”

“Is it things going on at home?”

_No, you jackass. It’s you_, I think. _It’s all the things I just mentioned when you asked._ I mean seriously, the nerve of this guy! I didn’t even tell him I was dating Mike. The school counselor told him at one of their friendly hangouts. And while I wish she hadn’t, it never should have been brought up. Not to mention he ignored my direct communication of issues his staff is facing. This man is _so_ unprofessional.

“Things are fine,” I say aloud. Making it clear with my tone and face that I’m done talking.

“Okay, I’ll let the rest of the team know about tomorrow.”

I bite the inside of my check to keep from responding or showing my disgust at the use of the word “team” from his mouth. He wouldn’t know a team if one bit him on the nose.

I nod curtly and resume working, not waiting on the footsteps to resume in the opposite direction. I move on from grading to clear my emails before I leave for the day. I start from the top and click the first unread email.

From: msantos@elmschools.org

Subject: IEP @ 10

Hey Team,

“Ugh!”

_That damn word_…. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and my stomach clenches. I shut my laptop unable to finish the message. I think, _I need to look for other positions, _as I gather my things and walk to my car to work from home.