Posted 5:09 PM by Andrew Faehnle
Hey

"Virginia."

[Beat]

"Virginia..."

[Beat. A stance & practiced glare.]

Poke, poke. "Psst, he's looking at you." Point.

"Virginia. Take off your jacket."

"No."

"I am not asking you. I am telling you. It's not part of the uniform."

"No."

Jamal: "Just take off your--"

Veronica: "Shut the fuck up! I ain't takin' off my fuckin' jacket. He's not my father."

Holy shit: "TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET YOUNG LADY!" wheredidMr.Thundersoncomefrom?howlonghadhebeenoutsidelistening?thisislikethethirdtimehehascomeintointerruptmylessons.

Me, to Virginia: "Ouch. Bad timing."

"Mr. Gibson I want an incident report. Including the curse words."

"Yes sir."

Thundering: "GET UP, YOUNG LADY, AND BRING YOUR JACKET WITH YOU!"

Leandro, to Virginia, unprovoked: "Yea."

Me, to Leandro: "You stay out of it. This is not your problem."

Jonny, to Leandro, unprovoked: "Yea, keep your mouth shut."

Thunder: "ANYONE ELSE NEED TO COME WITH ME?"

Me: "Yea, take these two."

ohfuckwhatayearthisisgonnabeanditsonlysecondperiod. "Textbooks, page sixteen. Copytheobjectiveandkeyterms. Hurryup." imsupposedtobeonaprep. whyisntIversonhereanywayohyeahhesgettingmarriedtomorrow. whywasntIinvited? whydheschedulehishoneymoonforthethirdweekoftheschoolyear? wtf?

---

lunch sucked. one of 706 pulled the doorstop out of his door and he still didn't have a key. so he didn't get a chance to eat until eighth period. when the phone rang:

"Good afternoon, this is Mister Gibson."

"Heyit's Dave, are you teaching a class this period?" thatsastupidquestionyoumadetheschedule.

"No. I'm on a prep. Eating my lunch. I still don't have a key to my room. I really need a key, because we have all of the science stuff in my room, including lots of potentially dangerous chemicals. and that science teacher from The High School keeps poking around my room. I'll be right down." goddammitIalwaysforgettopackaspoon: Gibson opened his applesauce cup and "drank" it.

The old IS183 building now houses four schools: MS203 (Gibson's school), PS162or8 (a K through 8 school for kids with severe behavior problems), and two new schools: MS224 (a middle school with a brand-new principal, and only two experienced teachers, the other four being first-years from America's Teachers, a teaching program that served poor urban and rural areas throughout the country) and The High School. It used to be more confusing. Gibson's first year as a teacher, there were only two schools in the building (183 and 162or8), but in addition to IS183 the second floor housed the Manhattan and Bronx borough School Maintenance offices. It was an awful setup: the Maintenance people were right in the middle of the second floor, so if you wanted to go from the north part of the second floor to the south part, you had to go either up to the third floor or down to the first floor and circumnavigate the Maintenance people. They kept the doors to their secion Locked At All Times. You had to go around. Way around.

But, the first year of 203 had been so successful, that Mayor Bloomberg, newly in charge of the Board of Education, oh wait Department of Education, moved the Maintenance people elsewhere and gave the middle part of the building to MS 203 at a press conference. A press conference that Gibson had asked to take his kids to, as a kind of mini field trip for his social studies class, y'know, to see government and the media in action, and also because it was right in the school building. The principal said no way.

But, during eighth period on a Friday, there are more important things to worry about. Like happy hour and finding out who is gonna go. Gibson was cruising through the just-finished middle part of the second floor, on his way down to Dave's office, trying to find Gino. The new layout of the second floor was confusing, not aided by the fact that the organization sheet with all of the teachers' room numbers was very very wrong. All of the listed room numbers didn't exist for the new middle secion. Idle wandering, looking for Gino: heyallfourfloorsofthisbuildinghavedifferentfloorplans. thatsfuckedup. fuckginosgotaclassnow.

"Hey, Gibson, sit down."

"Whats up Dave?"

"I spoke to Thunderson today. He wants to schedule a meeting with you about classroom management. [wtf?] If it's okay with you [wtf?] I'd like to be there." wtfwtfwtfwtf? Dave [wtf] was the building's [wtfwtf] union representative.

"Classroom management? I don't even get a chance to manage my classroom. Thunderson came into my room today. Okay. wait. I was teaching a class, this girl was wearing a jacket, told her to take it off, she said no, started cursing, thunderson heard her and barged in and started yelling."

"Oh, I didn't hear that part."

"Third time this year."

"Wow." Gibson considered Dave a good friend. Dave was a good friend.

"He's always interrupting my lessons."

"That's no good."

"I like to take care of my problems in-house, Dave, and he's making it look to the kids like I can't handle my shit."

"Yeah."

"702, I had them on Wednesday. Edgar Polanco is in that class. I taught Edgar two years ago in the seventh grade. He was sitting silently and taking a test and taking notes. Silently, Dave."

[Beat]

"And Thunderson even said we shouldn't be calling him unless there's a real problem."

"I know, Gibson."