September part 2
The bell rang, and with it, Regina's patience hit its limit. At first, Google rejected all users this morning, but after an emergency phone call to the county IT office and a few million prayers to every god or goddess she had ever heard of, she'd managed to login successfully. In the back of her mind, she thanked Emma for insisting they preload their class materials over the weekend. Having that set up appeared to be the only thing going well this morning; her second class's immaturity reigned supreme, ruining any chance of improving her mood.
"Okay, everyone, please, remember this Friday you take the short story unit exam. I posted the study guide to my Google Classroom earlier today. Class dismissed." She ignored their choral groaning complaint and closed her textbook sitting on the podium.
Walking from where she stood at the front of the room to her desk, the English teacher overlooked the student still seated at the back. Tense and frightened, the freshman didn't know how to initiate a conversation.
"Dr. Mills?" Sounding extremely unsure, Daphne pushed her glasses higher on her face.
Surprised at the interruption to her thoughts, Regina turned toward the girl, relieved Miss Bartlett had proven intelligent and hard working.
"Miss Bartlett, what may I do for you?" Tired coffee orbs searched the doorway for her AP students.
"Uh, ma'am, I don't know who to tell or what to do, but your students aren't using Twitter the way the school wants them to do?" The girl shrugged and picked up her backpack.
The older kids trickled into the room in groups. Whispers of 'stupid freshman' and 'waste of fucking space' crossed the space to the teacher's ears. Except for a stern glare thrown in their direction, she pretended not to hear it.
"Can you explain what you mean?" Regina, curious by the girl's lack of information and obvious intimidation, decided to ask for clarification.
"It would be easier if you looked. Search for the hashtag dethronetheevilqueen. It's ridiculous." The girl's eyes traveled to the wall clock. "Do you think I could have a pass to my next class? I'm going to be late."
"Sure." Complying with the girl's request, she handed over a post-it containing little more than the time and a signature; she waited until the door closed.
"Before we begin, I need to remind you that freshmen, as a whole, are clueless. You are to lead them-help them become the students they should be. Bullying them will not help. Yet, when I spoke with a student in my classroom, you chose that moment to mutter threats and insults. I'm not happy. I'm not happy at all. Are we clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." The group answered as one body.
"Good." She pulled out her copy of How to Read Literature Like a Professor. "I believe I assigned the chapter called "Is that a Symbol?'"
The next hour raced by in a blur of questions and thoughtful discussion, something the freshmen don't embrace yet.
"Why don't we blog about this, Dr. Mills?"
The little hairs on the back of her neck vibrated in panic. "Not this time. Let's wait until we get used to the format of using google classroom before we introduce a blog." Regina breathed a sigh of relief when the boy took her words to heart.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her phone from where it stayed in her desk and her coffee cup before marching to the lounge for lunch.
She pushed open the door and felt disappointed to note that Emma hadn't made an appearance. Slightly disappointed, Regina put her food in the microwave and hoped the blonde would show up soon.
"You look like someone pissed in your cornflakes this morning. Should I be worried that the woman could be dead some wear, or did she pull a muscle in her wrist this morning and leave you horny?"
Mal's teasing drew little more than a smack on the arm. "Please, behave. We're at work."
"If you say professionalism, I'm walking out of here right now."
Regina rolled her eyes and then found their table. "Have you seen Emma? I need her help finding something."
"No. I haven't. What is it?" Mal's eyes showed concern; she knew that Regina hated needing help with anything.
"A student said something about a hashtag dethrone the evil queen on social media."
Archie lifted his phone at the table near them and typed quickly. He startled both the women with his gasp.
"Oh, no. This isn't good."
"What?"
"What is it, Dr. Hopper?" Regina stood to ask why but then saw the image on his phone.
"I'm so sorry, Regina." Then, he made the mistake of scrolling.
Emma's arms wrapped around Regina from behind. "Babe, breathe." Everyone in the room could see the hurt sparking in her eyes as much as the anger. "We will get this taken care of, but once Blanchard opened us open for Twitter, this was bound to happen."
Archie carefully backed away, taking his phone with him.
Mal and Emma helped Regina sit back at their table. "It will be fine. I promise. We will report it and then let the admin do--"
"Aigh!" Archie dropped his hot coffee into his lap. The mug crashed to the floor, but the man stayed gaping at the screen.
"What is it now, insect?" Mal gritted out, annoyed by the man's dramatics.
"Here, let me help you clean that up----what the actual fudge" James stared at the other man's phone. "Where did you find that?"
Emma tried to restrain Regina but failed miserably as the woman shot over to where they gawked nervously at his phone. She reached for it, and both men covered the phone with their hands.
"Show me. Now." Her regal demand always resulted in an instant response, even adults. Suddenly resembling the freshmen she'd dealt with all morning, they followed orders."It can't be that bad."
She turned the device only to wish she hadn't.
All three women stared.
"At least, they got my best side."
Regina rolled her eyes again. "Isn't that one from your teacher of the year photography session."
"Yep. It's posted on the county website. So, oh, the joy, they have lots of pictures of me to work with for memes." The blonde shrugged it off and wandered back to the table to eat her lunch. "But they aren't wrong."
"Wait. That doesn't offend you?" Stunned, the words flew from Regina's mouth. The rest of their colleagues watched, not bothering to conceal their interest. For the first time in ages, Dr. Mills struggled to get more than a question to come out of her mouth.
Emma laughed. "They aren't wrong." Her soft smile melted the other woman's anger. "As long as they don't insult you in the process, I don't care if they remind the world I'm in love with you. Not at all."
"You should be offended." Taking her seat, creating a soft thud emphasizing her distaste for the kids' joke.
The blonde wrapped an arm around her chair and leaned in, whispering in her ear. "But, I" m not. Let it go."
"But--"
"No harm. No foul, your majesty."
Mal studied the two other women enjoying the bickering.
Regina scoffed. "What will it take for them to offend you?"
"More than they are capable of doing. Quit second-guessing them." Squeezing her girlfriend's hand. "Now, what did you need to know? You said you had a question."
"What's a blog? And, what's a hashtag?"
Emma rolled her eyes then noticed most of the room had quieted, wanting her input. "Oh, Jeez. Don't you people use the internet?"
*****
Thursday
The week passed with a growing tension in the halls that no one could explain away. More than once, Emma or Regina freed a young man or two from the clutches of an upper class, having them pinned against the lockers. But, on none of those occasions did the young student clarify the reason or complain of unfairness. They always shifted around in embarrassment before evaporating on the spot.
Until now.
"Woah! Put him down now!" Emma pushed through the crowd and demanded the smart-mouthed brat's release.
"But, Dr. Swan, you don't know." Michael's eyes danced with fire. "If you knew what these little shits have been saying."
She grabbed him by the arm and led him to her room.
"Michael, I've seen some of the memes. I'm not upset that they've caught onto Regina and me. It's not a big deal."
The near-grown man forcefully blew out of his nose. "I guess you haven't seen the ones calling you a carpetmuncher or lickalotopuss or even bean flicker."
She sighed. "Mike, I've been called all of those and much worse for most of my life. I never dated a man, even in high school, so this isn't new."
His shoulders slumped. "You shouldn't have to deal with it. You two are my favorite teachers like ever. No one has ever taken care of me the way you have. Nobody's ever believed in me the way she did. I can't stand by and let the freshies do this."
"Getting yourself thrown out isn't going to help me either," she responded.
"Yes, ma'am."
A knock at the door interrupted their talk. "It's open."
James Shepherd stuck his head into the room. "Ah, there he is. Erick Williams said Michael attacked him."
Michael hung his head. "I did."
Emma squeezed his shoulder before he walked over to the assistant principal. "Just tell him what you told me. Maybe pull up the Twitter feed you saw it on. It might help you explain what the issue is."
The boy nodded. "Thanks, Ma. See ya later."
James looked at Michael, then back at Swan. "He's your son?"
"No, but after I helped him survive the end of last year, he started calling me Mama Swan, or sometimes just Ma. If you get him to tell you about his family history, you'll know why I don't object. He can call me Ma for the rest of his life if he wants to--I'm honored by it."
*****
Friday
The day started like too many of the others of late. The faculty greeted the day together in front of the coffee machine and then gathered to read whatever new administrivia James had nailed to the wall.
Administrative Directive #14
All student behavior concerns should be handled by the Administration. It is not up to the teacher to decide the correct punishment for any infractions within the building. The faculty may NOT assist in any manner whatsoever. Teachers teach, not discipline.
"Is anyone else waiting for this to go wrong gleefully, or is it just me?" Mal said with a grin, waltzing out the door for the day.
"I thought she had out-done herself on bad ideas when she said we weren't allowed to let tardy students into our classes with or without a pass. And, now this takes it to a whole new level of stupid." Thomas stated, stirring the creamer into his coffee with a swizzle stick then inserting it in his mouth.
"So, do I understand this correctly? They expect us to write a referral for every infraction? We can't give a class detention--they have to handle everything, really?" Ashley asked, rereading the post, hoping to find a clause she missed.
Emma smirked. "I think every night she comes up with a new one. Isn't this the first day that there was only one posted?"
The group collectively sighed without responding.
Gaston lifted his mug and clinked it with everyone he could find. "Alright, gang, you heard them. Let's bury them in referrals as per her wishes."
"And, to think, I used to believe you were stupid." Regina clinked her mug with his. "I'm more than willing to state I was wrong." She brandished an evil grin. "This could be the start of something glorious."
*****
Dr. Mills started her exam in the same way she had for years. She gave each student their test and their scantron sheet (at least Emma had helped her use Zipgrade rather than the antiquated machine in the lounge). After the shortest lecture on the ethics of cheating, she taught them how to bubble in the correct letter for their key before beginning.
Five minutes in, she collected Jacob's paper, his answer sheet, and his cellphone, which still had the still shot of his page on the screen. "Mr. Blackmon, you may take your things and yourself to Mr. Shepherd's office."
She inhaled loudly when the boy muttered dyke bitch under his breath.
"I suggest you stop your mumbling before I suggest they call the SRO to deal with a hate crime."
The boy froze. "Insulting you isn't a crime."
"First, that wasn't an insult. Secondly, those of us in the LGBTQ+ community do not wish to be treated as heinous or villainous because of who we love. Now, get to his office. He will be expecting you." She glanced at the room. The bulk pretended not to hear; the others looked at her in fear.
As the minutes ticked by, more students finished their exams and turned them at the proper spots; she had them separated into the five different piles according to their test key.
Before the bell rang, a hand shot up from the middle of the room. "Yes, Kalyani, what may I do for you?"
"You didn't really make five different tests, did you?" She asked, smugly grinning at her friends.
"If you must know, I made fifteen versions of my test. If I have multiple sections of a freshman class, I can't trust my students not to attempt to cheat. But, just so we are clear on this, come here, please."
The girl brushed back her long black hair and sauntered over, trying her best to use her beauty to charm, but Regina completely ignored the girl's efforts. "Here, compare them yourself. Do they look the same to you?"
"The reading passages are different!" Shocked and worried, her darker skin paled.
"Now, Miss Agarwal, what do you think your father would think if I repeated your question to him?"
The girl swallowed thickly.
"That's what I thought. Cheating isn't appreciated by teachers, parents, nor colleges. I know all of you think you are smarter than everyone else but understand this. Soon, the upperclassmen are going to make this clear to you. It would help if you were not relying on cheating to get anywhere, but more importantly, don't you DARE ruin the reputation of this school. You can cost students chances for scholarships and lower their chances of getting into the university of their choice. Your behavior, especially online, has consequences."
The bell sounded, startling the silent room. "Dismissed."
*****
"I can't believe the little shits haven't learned yet," Michael barked while marching down the hall with Emma and Regina. "They're so disrespectful. And, It's like they don't care that they are fucking up things for the whole school!"
"Michael, LANGUAGE! We are at school. What you say to either of us behind closed doors is different, but this is a hallway," Exasperated, Regina left Emma standing with him in front of the lounge door.
He looked sheepishly at the closed door. "She'll get over it in a minute. She's not having the best day either."
A roar rolled down the hallway from the cafeteria.
"Oh, shit!" They said in unison.
Emma pushed open the door of the faculty lounge while holding onto Michael by the shoulder. "So, should we go to watch the fight in the cafeteria or wait and watch it on youtube?"
"Can I go now?"
The blonde stared at the boy, disbelief hovering in her eyes. "Do you have the first lunch, or do you have a class?"
"Lunch."
"Nope. You're staying with us. They can't punish you for not being involved." The history teacher's no-nonsense tone sounded mysteriously like his AP Lit teacher.
The coaches howled with laughter, but Mal squeezed past the large men. "Excuse me, but I'd prefer witnessing. Anyone else?"
"Look at the bright side. You will have lots of witnesses to your innocence," Emma said, dragging him down the hall by his shirt sleeve.
As a unit, the entire lounge poured down the hall blockading the exit to the cafeteria; only a handful of students pushed through their line. Most of the students at lunch sat watching from the courtyard windows, but at least fifty kids remained. Already divided into groups, each camp flipped nearby cafeteria tables onto their sides, creating make-shift barricades in an all-out food fight.
"Die you fuckers!" Many fruits making direct hits onto the smaller students, a group on the farside barraged the middle with apples and oranges. Some of the oranges exploded on impact, raining pulp juice on them.
The younger kids, the ones foolish enough to take refuge in the center, scraped at the floor for more items to toss; their naivete having led them astray. They pushed and shoved between themselves to the entertainment of everyone watching. In contrast, the older kids coordinated their efforts.
"Hey, morons, your freshmen is showing--just like your tweets--you don't know enough to be making noise." The voice sounded familiar. Emma grew confident that the football team captain directed the moves along the north wall.
"Now!" Another volley shot toward the middle.
Shocked at the mayhem, the principal stomped her feet, grabbed a bullhorn one of the monitors had put down then, in a move that later would be greatly debated as to whether it was ballsy or stupid, MM climbed onto a table and used the instrument to gain their attention. "Stop it this instant!"
The students answered by pummeling her with red apples and mashed potatoes. Much to the enjoyment of the crowd and the principal's dismay, an assailant lobbed a large glob of gravied mashed potatoes that dripped from her the bangs of her dark hair down the front of her matronly power-suit.
"I'll get you! You do know we have cameras installed everywhere," she snapped before reigning in her anger. She lifted the bullhorn once again. "SROs, you have my permission to use the tasers." That moment, unlike the other, was generally accepted for the incredible example of hubris it was.
*****
Faculty, be advised, we have a mandatory faculty meeting in the media center as soon as dismissal is over. Since the activities of earlier today, we will stagger release. Seniors and Juniors that are walkers, riders, or drivers leave the building now. Sophomores, if you ride with an upperclassman, it applies to you as well.
Five minutes elapsed, then a new announcement in a less arrogant tone. Miss Blanchard-Nolan sounded worried.
Faculty, be advised, we have a mandatory faculty meeting that will begin promptly at 4:00. Ms. Wolf will be arriving shortly. All remaining students, you are dismissed. Do not dawdle in the hallways. Any students fighting will be leaving in a squad car.
At 4:00, the faculty assembled as directed. In past years everyone sat in their cliques that form, but not this year. While waiting, the group formed rows, mixing the gay with the straight and young with the old. They presented a united front.
Ten minutes later, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan stormed in and took to the podium at the front.
"I refuse to wait one second longer to begin. The superintendent has not arrived. Even though she wanted to run the meeting, I have things that need to be said first." Seething in anger, the woman's hand shook, holding the microphone. "How dare you? Hmm? How dare you? You work for me. You let the kids make us a laughing stock on Twitter. Did you know that?"
The projector behind her sprang to life, floating the newest meme victim on faculty.
"What? Get that off-screen now!" She screeched, then turning toward the faculty who, one and all, managed to stifle their laughter.
The image behind them changed. This time, the group fought for control, but one at a time, they shook with what appeared to be hiccups that quickly devolved into raucous laughter.
The media center door slapped against the wall; the superintendent marched through with a full head of steam behind her. Her cold features bore into the principal without blinking as she spoke to the crowd.
"As I'm sure you've heard. I requested a meeting because this Twitter nonsense is out of hand. I don't want ever to hear the phrase 'let's all TWEET about it' ever again. Am I clear?"
She directed MM to a seat non-verbally. "The county has been inundated with calls and complaints today because someone filmed your principal giving the SROs permission to taze the students having a food fight. Tasers are permitted to be used when and only when students are rioting completely out of control. Being covered in mashed potatoes does not necessitate such. Nor does your inability to have the teachers intervene."
Her eyes fell accusingly on the crowd. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Feeling like a scolded child, Emma stood from where she sat in the dead center of the hundred-plus member group.
"Yes, Dr. Swan, do you have an answer for me?"
"Yes, ma'am. I certainly do. Our principal has been posting Administrative Directives that tell us her expectations on a near-daily basis. She's made it clear that we have no right to discipline or interfere in the building's discipline. I believe it was number 14 that said that teachers should leave all student behavior concerns to the administration to handle, so we waited for her to tell us otherwise. We watched from the door and waited. She never asked for help, not once. I'm sure that a student filmed the whole thing if you need evidence."
The older woman's eyes narrowed as she examined the principal, looking like a scolded child. "And, where might I find these posted Administrative Directives?"
"The lounge," Emma pointed in its direction. "There are quite a few that you might need to make yourself familiar. If you'd like, we can take a quick break so that you can see them."
Eugenia's lips pressed together so tight that the blood left them. She'd received the first few as images on her phone, but her belief that the woman would quit once she corrected her the first time dissolved the moment this conversation started.
"I see." She cleared her throat. "Can I safely assume that she still doesn't understand the nature of teaching in a PUBLIC institution?"
The group nodded in sync.
"Well, then. Miss Blanchard-Nolan. It would be best if you moved a pair of desks suitable for an administrator into the lounge. I believe there will be enough room if you remove that god-awful futon on the back wall. And, I need an office chair there. I will see about having a phone installed for my use. All of you can expect me on campus two to three days a week. I see that your principal is in dire need of a mentor. Until next week, I expect all of you to not comment to anyone about what is going on here. Teachers dismissed."
Eugenia failed to turn off the microphone, so the whole room overheard her say 'that MM would undergo mandatory 'sensitivity training,' but no one dared to acknowledge the words.
*****
"Well, fuck a duck!" Emma grumbled, dropping her classwork into her bag.
Regina glared at her. "Must you be so foulmouthed!"
"If you want me to leave the building without punching our principal in the face, then yes, I do need to drop f-bombs the way that pigeons leave a trail of poop wherever they go." She huffed. "Did you read the emailed list of students to be placed in ISS for the food fight?"
"No, why?"
"Guess whose name is at the top of the list?" Emma's pale neck glowed, and her hands shook.
"Okay, I have no idea. Who?"
"Michael."
Regina dropped her bottled water. "What the fuck?"
"See!" Emma gestured dramatically. "It helps you not to explode, right?"