It was Wednesday 3/11/26; half-day for the kids, but not the adults.
We got the word that we were to meet in the auditorium at 11:45, and the meeting was mandatory. The departments filed in, knowing that something was up, but unsure what the problem could be,
“Maybe, it’s the lock-in/lock-out we had the other day,” I said to my colleague as we went down the stairs. They didn’t know, but I knew that lock-in/lock-out was due to a gun that was found on campus, with an extended clip, by one of our students; and they were arrested. Mr. Ford had watched them outside, hide the weapon so the meeting would be keeping yourself vigilant in stopping these situations.
We got to the auditorium, and the principals were all there, heads down.
Then we knew this was not good.
When everyone sat, the head principal began…
“We wanted to inform you…” he started.
My mind instantly went to a dead dying. We’ve had meetings like this for that occasion
“…that Ms. M died this morning…” he finished.
“What?!” cried out Ms. Boulder.
Ms. Whitaker got up and walked out.
“Ms. M was a beloved member of our community. She was a doctoral candidate, gave that up to come here to [our school] and was a dedicated teacher. She improved the math department. Introduced Calculus. And was a never-ending advocate for our students.”
Everyone paused until one of the staff got the courage to leave, and then we all followed.
Inside the office, in my office (the best office in the department with a nice big desk in the conference room with Uncle Same telling me ‘It’s Y(our Fault!”), Larry, Ms. Fields, and Ms. Dottie were sitting.
“I never knew her,” Dottie said, “It’s very sad.”
I thought about how such a kind person, such a good teacher, almost forty, or just about forty, could die just like that; and that someone who barely knew her (not as though I knew her, but being in the school for an 8th year as a colleague, and a coincidental parking neighbor”
“It’s so sad. She just send me a Teams message,” Larry said, checking his Teams. Then he checked. “Oh God, I feel like I should have responded.”
Ms. Fields was eating her salad, quietly.
I got up, just to do something…I had been staring at the same message- [student] will successfully be able to improve reading comprehension skills by improving content area vocabulary, being able to improve literal comprehension skills by answering WH-questions, and be able to evaluate the intentions of authors and characters- for twenty minutes.
“Why the fuck does this shit matter?!” I said, standing up briskly, and left to get my lunch.
I was projecting my pain onto a situation that I normally would not. I imagined my son, now two, alone in his home having an episode and I cannot save him. I thought to my sick mother-in-law and getting the pain in the moment of when I’ll face that situation. I thought about comforting my wife when that situation happens. I thought about my own mortality, being thirty-nine, and my wife’s mortality, at thirty-eight; and how our ages were not so different, and I am alive (very happily), while Ms. M was not.
I made it to the fridge.
<<Cuidado, una ratón es alli>> (Beware, a mouse is there)María said
<<¿Qué?>> (What?) I responded.
<<La officína tiene una ratón>> (The office has a mouse) María said
<<¿Una ratón o rata?>> (A mouse or a rat?) I asked.
<<¿Ernesto que dices ‘mouse’?>> María asked, Ernesto, a student sitting on the couch.
<<Rata o ratón. No sé>>
I dodged the mouse, got my food, and came back.
I ate my sandwich, turkey and fresh mozzarella, as the office was quiet again. Ms. Dottie left. Larry left. So, it was Ms. Fields and I.
“This is fucking bullshit,” I said.
Ms. Fields who had been here for six years nodded.
“It is! The nicest person ever! Really loved the kids! Not like the others!”
Larry came back from the bathroom.
“And as we were discussing before you would be great downstairs with the emotionally disturbed kids, Mr. Carney,” Ms. Fields said, “You have the temperament.”
Ms. Dottie came back with her hamburger she “Door Dashed” from Burger King – two burgers and two fries were on the table.
Down the hall, the goal was not to leave the mouse, or rat, alone but to kill it. The teachers set up glue traps, blocking the mouse’s exit, as though the mouse wanted to be an inconvenient burden on our lives and simply survive – like Ms. M would rather be walking around school today, or like I enjoy living today, or my two-year-old son enjoys living.
Ms. Pebbles came in for help, but she was seeking solace too.
“Ah, that poor child,” Ms. Pebbles said, “No family, no loved one to go home to…”
“She had a medical condition, and she was brave for coming in,” Larry interjected.
“Ahhh…my mother hit her head, and started to get those episodes, but she prayed and prayed and it just went away,”
I kept my mouth shut.
Larry put his head down, too.
Ms. Pebbles left.
The cheers came down the hall. The mouse had stepped into the glue trap.
“I hope it was painless for Ms. M.,” Gary said.
While this story is not directly related to Ms. M. it’s important to show that the school is a different place.
Everyone’s conflicting emotions are colliding together in how they grieve, and the principals allowing us to leave early yesterday was a nice gesture.
I went home and embraced being with my family.
Not knowing if tomorrow I’ll leave them.
