Dona E. Bowens

On August 24, we were 6. By August 25, we were already down to 5. I’m talking about the 6 educators, including myself, who were assigned to share one classroom in a middle school that shall remain unnamed in order to protect the guilty and the lazy. I have no idea what happened to the math tutor. He was there on Day One, and maybe that was more than enough for him, because he didn’t return for Day Two. None of us mentioned him again—probably because we can’t remember his name. But he does have the distinction of being the first casualty of the middle school chaos grinder. Bless the math tutor wherever he’s got to. He was probably the smartest of us all—he quit while the quitting was good.

If I was to go the way of the math tutor, it would be because of the noise. I was at a high school last year and high-schoolers are peewee football compared to the NFL skill level of middle-schoolers when it comes to producing noise. My god how they yell. But they also screech, bellow and howl. I swear some of them are howlers. Parents, some of your kids come to school and start howling for no apparent reason. Maybe that’s what took out the next educator two weeks in.

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, we were down to 4. I can’t say I was sad to see a second colleague cash in and move on because I inherited her desk. I’d been squeezed at a table to do my work, because no one had properly planned how SIX teachers would share one classroom. So with the second departure I was like, “It was nice knowing ya! Are you really going to take your chair with you?” I was really hoping to inherit her chair along with the desk.

Now that we’re down to 4 barely a month into the school year, I’ve been putting mental bets on which of my co-educators will be the next to bite the dust. My money was on the first-year teacher raised in Amish country, but no, next off the island is a sista who’s decided that teaching is bad for her health. Seriously, the school is making her sick, so next week girlfriend is outta there! I’ll be sad to see her go…we share tissues and cough drops and once a day she’ll listen to my one-minute rant which is usually about the bureaucratic nightmare and why “the kids ain’t learnin’.”

Then there were 3. The Amish boy flanked by a 30-something sista who’s meaner than a shit-house rat and me—who’s really trying to hit the lottery and never have a boss again. One month in and a 50% attrition rate. Damn. You notice that I didn’t mention any of these people being replaced? Nope, the numbers just dwindle and those who hang on get bigger classes and more chaos. Why can’t Johnny read? Now you know. So who will be the next to go?