Third place in the Jacksonville Author of the Year Contest

The building is hauntingly quiet. Outside my room, the hallway is getting dark.  I sit at my desk in my classroom feeling very sad, lonely, and, for certain, missing my old school.  Probably all of the other teachers have gone home.  A chill is in the air; the heat is turned down.  It is now January 15 at 5:15 p.m. and one of those long days of winter.  The happiness of going back home over Christmas and seeing my friends from my old school is over.  I am teary-eyed over the events of today and am trying to pull myself together before going home. My husband, Bill, has a late evening meeting and won’t be home until after 8.

I think back to our summer decision to move out of state to a new community.  Springford, where my husband, Bill, had a new job offer. I had taught 4^th grade for 10 years in my hometown of Orland.  I loved teaching and my school.  I had always been part of a team effort. There was another 4th-grade teacher, and she and I had planned lessons together and shared with students back and forth. The principal, Betty Barker, had been supportive and always had a kind word for me, praising my teaching frequently.  I can still remember my mixed feelings, happy for Bill’s promotion but fearful of moving to a new state where I had no family, no friends, and would have to seek a new teaching position.  In the end, I knew I didn’t want to stand in the way of my husband’s big chance. We decided to move.

On my last day of the school year, I saw my students off and went to lunch with my fellow teachers and Mrs. Barker. I remember her saying: “Beth, you are such an easy-going and likable teacher, I know you are going to find another teaching job, and the new school will be so happy to have you.”  Just like Mrs. Barker to be positive.

On June 21, while Bill met the people at his new job, I searched the phone book for the office of the school district.  Locating the address, I decided to pay a visit to see if there were any vacancies.  I kept remembering Mrs. Barker’s words and had lots of confidence in my ability to teach.  I walked into the district office and was immediately greeted with the friendly face of a secretary who asked if she could help me. I responded, “My name is Beth Harkin, and I am wondering whether you have any teaching jobs posted for the Fall.”  The secretary gave me an application form.  I thanked her and took the application home.  I completed the application, and along with a portfolio of some of my work, and my references, I delivered it to the district secretary the next day.  For days gone by, I hadn’t heard.  I began thinking of other options, substituting, tutoring, and looking at neighboring districts.  Five days later, I received a call from Bob Fenton, the principal at Hammit School. He asked if I was available for an interview the next day. I responded positively and showed up at his office at 10:00 a.m.  I expected Mr. Fenton to be like my previous principal, Mrs. Barker.  He was, however, more distant yet courteous. He asked me many questions and told me I would hear one way or another within the next two weeks. The news came the next week.  I got a 4th-grade teaching job at the school and was to report officially for duty on August 23 for new teacher workshops in the district, and teacher meetings at the school were to begin on August 24. I could get in my class anytime after August 1.

When August 1 came, I was excited to get into my classroom and get everything ready. I showed up that day and slowly began meeting other teachers in the building.  I learned there were two of us who were new out of the twenty teachers at the school. Mary Biddle was the other new teacher, and she was a recent graduate of the local teacher college.

There was another 4th-grade teacher, Wanda Radcliff, and I was eager to meet her because I thought we could share ideas and do some team teaching.  I met the two 5th-grade teachers, Sally Unger and Betsy Power. They came in to introduce themselves. I commented, “I can’t wait to meet Wanda so we can begin planning together. Betsy was quiet. Sally finally said, “She likes to work by herself.”  When the kindergarten teacher, Marcy Burnett, came by, I commented to her that I was eager to meet Wanda.  Marcy responded, “Maybe you shouldn’t make any plans to work with Wanda.”  When I asked what she meant, she said, “I don’t want to bias you, but Wanda can be difficult.”  I became apprehensive, but at the same time knew I could get along with most people, so I was sure I would like Wanda and be able to work with her.

I didn’t meet Wanda until August 22, when she first came into her room.  I went over and introduced myself.  Wanda began to tell me about all the plans she had for her 4^th graders.  When I asked if we could plan some activities together, she responded, “I don’t think so; you need to get to know this school and figure out what you’re doing.  If you’re here next year, maybe we’ll talk about working together.”

That day I went to lunch with Sally and Betsy; the shock was mine when I learned that the previous fourth-grade teacher left because of Wanda.  They also informed me that Wanda didn’t like to work with them either, and the principal seemed to be afraid of Wanda. Wanda had been at the school for 15 years, and Mr. Fenton had only been there 2 years. Wanda believed that she ran the school and several other teachers were afraid to cross her.

When August 24 came, I saw what Sally and Betsy meant.  Marcy asked a question at the teachers’ meeting, and Wanda replied, “We do it this way and have ever since I have been here.”  Mr. Fenton did not open his mouth. Wanda then announced when she was scheduling lunch and P.E., for her students and then told the special education teacher and speech therapist when they could see her students.  No one challenged her.  I remained positive, hoping that Wanda would become friendlier with me.  If offered to share materials I had.  Wanda replied that she had plenty of materials and didn’t need anything else.

One day in September, my students had become loud in the hall, and Wanda came out of her room and reminded them to be quiet. She added, “Your teacher is new and doesn’t know our rules.”  I was hurt.  I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that to another teacher.  I went home that night upset and related the incident to Bill.  He advised, “Maybe you should just confront her, you are being too nice, and she is walking all over you.”  I thought about what he said and went to school the next day. Before classes started, I went over to Wanda’s room and told her that I was upset by her comment to my students and, in the future, would prefer that she tell me about the problem later. She replied, “You had better toughen up, these are 4^th graders, and you and your students need to learn our rules.”  She continued to correct my students for minor actions, seeming to say that I couldn’t do my job.  I began to think she was only doing this to me, but then I began to see her correct other teachers’ students. One day I was standing in the hall after school, and she was talking with Sally and telling her how the principal, Mr. Fenton, had no backbone and couldn’t make the students behave in the hall.  I admit I felt better knowing I wasn’t the only one whose management techniques didn’t suit her. 

I observed that at each of our weekly staff meetings, Wanda would have a nasty comment to make to someone about something that they didn’t know.  Most people kept quiet at staff meetings because they didn’t want “Wanda’s wrath.” Since she taught across the hall from me, if I was doing an active activity with my students and the noise level was getting high, she would cover over and close my door.

Becky was doing an active science project one day, and her students were excited; the noise level was high.  Wanda could hear it from her room down the hall.  After school, we learned that Wanda had gone to the principal and complained about Betsy’s class. Betsy was called into Mr. Fenton’s office and was told that she had to keep the noise down.

Wanda’s behavior continued.  I had decided she was indeed a bully and engaged in her many activities to intimidate the rest of us. She wanted control over the building.  I noticed she didn’t hang around with anyone but Margot Anderson, one of the 3rd-grade teachers. I observed that she seemed to boss Margot around, and Margot would just do what Wanda wanted.

I was so happy to have Thanksgiving vacation and the winter holiday come. While I liked my students, I was always nervous about what Wanda was going to say next.  It seemed I couldn’t please her. Wanda made the air of the building hostile.  I was worn out.  I looked forward to going home to Orland for a visit.  I had kept in touch with my school friends, and we had decided to meet for lunch one day.  Mrs. Barker was joining us.  Everyone was eager to hear about my new job, and I talked excitedly about my students and some of the other teachers at the school.  I caught up on what was happening at Orland.

After lunch, Mrs. Barker lingered to talk with me.  She sensed something was wrong with what I didn’t say.  I broke down crying and told her all about Wanda.  I told her I had the strongest urge to be nasty to her.  Mrs. Barker responded that I should be assertive and let Wanda know that I didn’t like it when she took actions that offended me. She also said, “Just because Wanda behaves as she does, doesn’t mean you should do what she does.  You are a kind and caring teacher, and keep being who you are.” 

This evening of January 15, Mrs. Barker’s. words come back, but I feel I may need to disappoint her.  I am ready to tell Wanda off when she comes into school tomorrow. This afternoon as our class was getting ready for the end of the day, Wanda came in and announced that her music reference book was missing, and she needed it. I told her quietly that I didn’t have it, but Wanda yelled that she believed I did and I had better return it.  My students just stared at her; they were afraid.

The next day I went over to Wanda’s room to tell her what I thought of her behavior, my sadness and loneliness had turned into anger, and I decided I had to confront Wanda.  I learned Wanda was absent, and there was a substitute getting the class ready. She wasn’t there again the next day. That afternoon we had our teachers’ meeting, and the air was so much better without Wanda there. Teachers asked more questions and seemed more relaxed. In the end, Mr. Fenton announced, “I’m afraid I have some sad news to share. Wanda has been diagnosed with lung cancer and is in serious condition at Mercy Hospital.  I am sure she will appreciate visitors and cards from all of us.  You know that Wanda is alone; she has no family except for an aunt and uncle who live about a hundred miles away.”

I looked around at the other teachers and saw a look of shock on their faces, as I was sure was the look on my face. After the meeting, we all stuck around and were talking about the news. We had discovered that we really didn’t know much about Wanda because she had not shared any personal information about herself.  She exuded such an air of distance and a need for power and control that none of us had ever asked, and she hadn’t offered any information.  Now Wanda needed us, and I thought all of my colleagues would rally around her.  I found out otherwise.  Wanda’s attitude had caught in the building.  I said to several teachers, “Why don’t we sign up to take turns visiting Wanda at the hospital? I know she would appreciate visits.” The response I received was surprising.  Margot, the one person I thought was her friend, responded, “You can go if you want, but I’m not going to visit Wanda; I have bent over backward to help her, and she has never done one thing for me.” Sally responded, “Count me out; I’m not going to see her.”  Betsy chimed in, “Look, that woman got me in trouble, and I will not go to visit her. She probably would run me out anyway.”  Slowly other teachers made similar responses.

We all left the building. I went to my car. I was in turmoil.  Wanda had indeed not been kind to anyone, but the words of Mrs. Barker kept coming back to me, “Just because Wanda behaves as she does, doesn’t mean you should do what we do…keep being who you are.” I drove home. Bill and I went out to dinner that evening.  I explained to him the happenings of the day.  I told him I didn’t know what to do. Bill replied that I should do whatever I thought was the right thing to do.  I continued to ponder. When Bill and I got home from dinner, I explained that I was taking the car and going to Mercy Hospital.  Bill responded, “I knew that was the decision you would make.  Good luck.” 

As I drove the 10 minutes to the hospital, I was planning what I would do and say when I got there.  What would I do if Wanda was her usual negative self?  What would I do if Wanda would talk to me? I decided I would just see what her response would be to me.

Taking the elevator up to her room, I have to admit I had a sense of fear.  I didn’t know what I would find.  I entered the semi-private room and found Wanda didn’t have a roommate, and there she was in her bed, looking away from the door toward the window.  The room was silent.  I quietly spoke Wanda’s name.  She turned to me with tears in her eyes, how sad and pathetic this teacher who had controlled and bullied her fellow teachers looked. She looked so vulnerable to the world. A woman who wanted so much power and control were now powerless over her body. A slight smile came to her face. She surprisingly responded, “I’m so happy to see you.  Thank you for coming; you are the only visitor I’ve had.  I’m so scared.”  Instinctively, I took her hand; tears came once again to her face.  She told me that the doctors had determined that she would have surgery in a couple of days, followed by radiation and chemotherapy.  She knew she wouldn’t be back to school the rest of this year.

I mostly listened to her and her fears. She expressed that her classroom was her entire life, and she was afraid she might never be back.  I asked her if there was anything I could do to help her. She quietly said, “You have been so kind to come to see me after some of the things I have done to you at school. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll come back to see me.”  I let her know I would. About that time, the nurse came in, and I said goodbye with the promise I would be back.

I walked out of that hospital thinking about Wanda’s vulnerability.  Her cold and controlling exterior masked the need of this human being to have someone to care for. I smiled as I remembered Mrs. Barker’s words.  I knew I would be back tomorrow to support Wanda.