Just checking in with the prologue from Rebel Hour, which can be found at the Sail the 7 C’s Teacher Resource Expo.
So I’m not the sharpest tool in the…the brightest bulb in…let’s just say I’m hardly an Einstein. Some might even suggest I couldn’t even tie Einstein’s shoes…which makes me now wonder why I only wear sandals and slip-on sneakers.
Anyway [Hey, I’m smart enough to know when I’m getting off track.] when my loving (not really) principal Mrs. Phyllis Nix mentioned last June that there was a fourth-grade position at a neighboring school in the district, I just filed it away as ‘odd but interesting’…or was it ‘interesting but odd’?.
But when my loving [again…not really) grade four teaching partner Joy Ann Clark mentioned the same position, I reclassified it from ‘odd but interesting’ to ‘hmmm…’.
It’s now late August and Mrs. Nix has informed me that I’m being moved to Room 36, which through my eight years at A.B. Sweeney has been called ‘the creaking portable.’ It’s a modular classroom set so far apart from the main building that there isn’t even a Room 35…or 34…or 33, 32, or 31. Yep, I’m no Einstein shoe-tying flunky, but it was pretty clear I’d been exiled.
Now, if I alone were sent to this island of luxury, that’s one thing. But for my students to feel separate and unequal? Not good.
So what did I do the next day?
I took a step that would separate them even further. Yep, I’m quite the genius.
“Joy Ann, here’s a thought. How ‘bout if we experiment with going completely self-contained this year?”
Eyebrows raised, she said, “Really?” Her eyes shifted off to dreamland and she nodded. It was as if she was playing out a ‘hassle-free, limited time with Brooke Page’ scenario.
“Yep,” I said. No trading students for math or language arts.”
“I guess we could always ask,” she said. Her eyes remained fixed to that far-off galaxy, one without me as her career millstone, that immovable anchor that thwarted her efforts to shine as a ‘Broadway glitterati, ‘who are you wearing today?’ Hall of Fame’ teacher.
“Who should run this by Mrs.—?” I asked.
“I can do that,” said Joy Ann.
Played right into my hands.
And so here I am, in the creaking fortress, with blank walls.
And I’ve made a decision…
© 2019 Tim Haag