Commencement- Book Two
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2002, 2011 Lawrence Cherry
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Twenty-Nine
Allen was asleep at the desk in the tiny break room across from the water closet. He had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, first, listening to the New President’s acceptance speech and then serving as a livery driver for Tim and Jim who were wasted. To make matters worse, one of his friends relieved himself in his mom’s car and he had to explain to her why it smelled like urine. He didn’t get home until almost 3:30 in the morning and he had to get up at 5:30 in order to make it to his new job on time. Then, when he came in he had to get right to work. There were railings that needed to be polished, light bulbs that needed to be changed, carpets that needed to be vacuumed, and floors that needed to be buffed. It was raining outside, so the heavy black rubber mats needed to be put down in the common areas to keep guests from slipping on, or ruining the newly buffed surfaces in the high traffic areas. There was a spill and a flood that had to be cleaned up. By lunchtime Allen was totally exhausted, and as unprofessional as he knew it was, he felt he had no choice but to use his lunch break to take a nap.
As he lay slumped over on his desk, a loud beep came from the radio he had laid next to him on the table.
“Yo, Allen! You there?!”
The beep and the voice that followed had startled Allen a bit, and woke him from his sleep, but he was still a little groggy so it took some time for him to realize where he was. The voice from the radio called several times, as Allen shook off his sleep, and sounded more agitated with each call.
“Yo, Allen! What’s the deal man? Where you at?” Davis’ voice blared from the radio.
Allen suddenly realizing that he was at work grabbed the radio to respond.
“Copy”, Allen mumbled, still a little groggy.
“I need you up in room 811 stat.”
“I’m on my way.”
Allen slowly stood up from his desk, stretched and let out a loud yawn. He wanted to stop by the bathroom and throw some cold water on his face, but he knew Davis expected him to be there yesterday, so he took the service elevator to the 8th floor and walked down to room 811. The door was open, so Allen just walked in. When he saw the state of the room, his jaw dropped in bewilderment.
The tables and furniture in the front room of the suite had been broken to pieces. Stuffing was protruding from deep gashes in the chairs. There was broken glass all over the floor and red wine stains in the carpet and on the couch. The curtains had been torn down from the windows, and some of the windows themselves had been shattered. The room had the makings of a crime scene all over it. Not long after he had arrived, Davis appeared from the bedroom of the suite. He had a clipboard in his hand and a pen behind his ear.
“What in the world happened in here?!” asked Allen.
“Some lady came up in here and found her man with another chick and went berserk. Only took ‘er 10 minutes to do all this. Mr. Hardy had to call the cops. Then we had to take pictures of everythin’ for when they go to court.”
“So this happened today?!”
“Yeah, man, like half an hour ago.”
Allen recalled that he had been sound asleep half an hour ago. Even though it was his lunch break, he still felt guilty.
“Wish I knew who she was. I wouldn’t want to mess with her.”
“I feel that. But now we got to clean up everythin’ and get all the broken furniture outta here, youknowwhatimean. We gonna have to redo the whole place. Right now, I’m just checking out what’s broken.”
“I guess I’ll start with getting up the broken glass.”
Allen went back and got his large dustpan and broom and brought them to the room. Then he started to remove the remaining glass shards from the couch and other surfaces before he began to take care of the floor.
“Be careful with that glass, yo. You don’t wanna get cut or nothin’.”
“Don’t worry. I got it.”
Allen continued to clean while Davis continued to survey the suite for damages. Allen would have liked to lighten the mood with a little small talk, but given Davis’ very business like manner, he didn’t know if it would be welcomed. And he didn’t really know if he even wanted to get to know Davis better. He was wary of guys like him. And then he thought about the thought that he had just had. What was a “guy like him” anyway? Wasn’t that similar to the phrase Mrs. Aldridge used when she spoke about Allen. She didn’t try to get to know Allen for who he was. She immediately put him in a box based on some stereotype. Then Allen thought about his conversation with Jim just two days ago. Maybe he was unfairly judging Davis. Sure, he had all of the accoutrements of a “thug” with the tatoos and the cornrows and all, but that was just the outer man. But then Allen thought, that whatever is on the inside of a man often manifests itself on the outside, and this idea made him wary again. But then, after struggling with himself for a bit, Allen decided to put away his misgiving and give Davis a chance.
“That lady must have really loved that guy, if he led her to do all this”, remarked Allen.
“Or maybe she’s just crazy, period. Some of these chicks ain’t wrapped too tight.”
“True that. At least for the paranoid, possessive kind.”
Davis made no response after this last comment and was continuing to survey the apartment and record the damages on his chart. Allen decided to try to connect with him again on a more personal level.
“I was in a relationship with a girl who could get a bit out of hand. Whenever she got mad, she made objects fly. Usually toward my head.”
“Where you come from, I didn’t think chicks acted like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, like those college chicks. Ain’t they suppost to be like high class and all that?”
“Some are and some aren’t. I’d say it’s 50/50.”
“Word? For real?”
“College girls are just like any other girls, man. Women are women.”
“You know, I kinda figured that, but you hear stuff. Ya know?”
“Like what?” asked Allen curiously.
“Like people be trippin’ bout college and what not. Like it’s like Oz or somethin’. You go there and your life will all of a sudden get better than what it is.”
“Well, yeah, a lot of people do make it seem that way. It’s definitely no Oz, but that doesn’t mean that it’s all washed up either.”
“I guess it’s what you make of it, right?”
“I’m not sure if I’m the right person to ask about that.”
“I feel you.”
There was another awkward silence and the conversation stopped as suddenly as it had started. It didn’t seem like Davis was a bad person after all. There were moments when someone like Davis could have just roasted Allen. Davis didn’t even sound bitter when he was talking to him about college life. And he was polite enough to not point out the idiosyncrasy between Allen’s college experience and his present occupation. In fact, he seemed to have dropped the conversation in such a way as to shield Allen’s pride.
Soon Allen became preoccupied with the cleaning of the room. He had gotten up all of the large shards of glass that he could see and put them into the special gray garbage bin that had been brought up to the room earlier. Davis advised him that he didn’t have to do a great job, since the carpet would have to be replaced anyway because all of the glass that had broken on top of it made it a hazard. Then they began the perilous task of removing the damaged furniture from the suite and trying to get it onto the freight elevator in the back without causing too much of a stir amongst the guests. Allen was definitely not up to the physical demands of the task. The furniture he was moving was not just regular apartment furniture, but that which was made for commercial use. Naturally, it was heavier than regular furniture, much heavier. As Allen helped Davis carry the sofa down the hall, he could feel that Davis was doing more of the lifting than he was. The only thing that kept Allen from feeling like a punk was the fact that he could blame his weakness on the fact that he only had about 2 hours sleep to go on. Maneuvering the sofa onto the elevator was another herculean feat. Allen clumsily attempted to help Davis with it, but in the end, he had to step aside as Davis brought the whole thing onto the elevator himself. Major loss of face.
And it didn’t’ end there. This had to be repeated with several chests of drawers, coffee tables, an oblong chaise, and a futon. And that was just one room of the suite! He and Davis had to keep going until they had carried out three rooms worth of furniture. When everything was all done. Allen felt as if he would need someone to carry him out. Meanwhile Davis didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat.
“I think that’s it for now. I’ll come back tomorrow and start fixin stuff. There ain’t nothin’ done to the hardware in here so serious that it can’t wait.”
“I guess I’ll go around and pick up the garbage.”
“What you mean man? It’s quittin’ time, yo. We out.”
Allen glanced at his watch. It was actually five past the hour. Allen had spent so much time focusing on the jobs at hand, he didn’t even feel the time going by.
“Whoa, time flies, doesn’t it.”
“When you workin’ hard, chief.”
“Guess I’ll head on out then.”
“Don’t forget to punch out your time card. You lucky I saw it yestidday. I did it for you.”
“Thanks a lot, man. I owe you.”
“No big deal. See ya round, man.”
“See ya.”
It was not lost on Allen that this was the first time that Davis had ever spoken more than one syllable at a time to him. It was still mostly work related, but he seemed to be easing up even if just the slightest bit. It was also not lost on him that so far it seemed that Davis was actually a nice guy. Allen began to feel bad about the way he had originally judged Davis. Yet there was something inside Allen that would still have him wary. After all, why all the tatoos? Had he actually been in jail? Allen had never been friends with anyone even remotely connected to the penitentiary experience despite having lived in the ghetto most of his life. “If Davis had been in jail”, Allen wondered, “what could he have done? Was he in a gang? Could he actually be working with someone who killed someone?” Then Allen gave it all a second thought. All of this speculation and fear was just silly. He had some of the same apprehensions when he met some of his other best friends. He thought Jim would be another bully to take his lunch money. He thought Tamiko was a do-good snob. He thought Callie was some brain dead cheerleader. He thought Tim was just some bougie Uncle Tom snob who was just using him for his econ notes (actually, this was true for a while). He thought Richard was a drug-dealing hustler trying to sell him some pot. In every case he would later find out just how dead wrong he was. Hopefully, his initial judgment of Davis would be wrong, too.
Thirty
Tamiko glanced over her lesson one more time. She had spent extra time making sure that she had all of her materials in an accessible place for the next lesson. She had even rehearsed the exact words that she would say to the students during the ten-minute mini-lesson. There were notes from the last observation referred to in the lesson plan. Tamiko made sure the lesson was differentiated and there were different activities for children at different skill levels. In short, Tamiko had done just about all she could do to make sure that today’s Shared Reading and Literacy Centers period went smoothly. However it did nothing to abate the nervous tension inside her. She had to have been observed over ten times by now, and yet every time seemed like the first time, especially since her fiasco of an assessment meeting last week. Today would be her second observation since that day. To make matters worse, now her debriefing sessions were like being put in front of the firing squad.
Tamiko knew that, as with any other observation, there would be a period afterward where the literacy coach, the assistant principal, and the hated Steele woman, and herself would get together to help her see what worked or what didn’t. The last time there was very little talk about what worked and a lot of talk about what needed improving. Tamiko was open to learning more and had tried to revise her thinking about the centers as well as the lessons. She just hoped that today, everyone would see just how much work she was putting into the lessons and the children’s learning environment.
Then as she looked over at the clock above her morning meeting board, she realized that second period was drawing to a close. Tamiko grabbed her tambourine and shook it in the air. As she shook it, all of the students stopped what they were doing and raised their hands in the air. Everyone stopped except James, an especially mischievous student who always gave Tamiko trouble.
“James, everyone knows what the tambourine means and by now you should, too! Go move your clip down to orange!” scolded Tamiko.
“But I ain’t even do nothin’!” the boy pleaded.
“I don’t want to hear it! Everyday it’s the same thing. You stop when it’s time to stop, not when you want to”, she reprimanded.
The little boy stomped over to the color chart and moved his name clip from “good-day green” down to “okay orange”, which was not a bad color, but not a good color either. Tamiko had to send a clear message to him that she was not going to tolerate any silliness from him today. Then she began to address the rest of the class.
“When I give you the signal, everyone except Jinelle and Eric will put away their writing and their writing folders and come to the rug. Today I am going to sing our good morning song. Remember you have to be at the rug by the time I finish my song”, Tamiko warned.
As Tamiko began to sing the song, 24 six and not a few seven year olds raced to different areas of the room to put away their writing folders and their writing tools. Tamiko had to stop her song at one point to remind the children to move quickly, but not to run. Sometimes by ones, or by twos, or by threes they came to the rug and took their places sitting “criss-cross-applesauce” on their rug spot with their hands folded in their laps. It wasn’t long before some of the children started to talk, and get silly.
“Our friends Eric and Jinelle want to share what they worked on in their writing today, but they can’t because there are too many people who are talking and this makes me very sad”, said Tamiko hoping that this would be enough to get their attention, but it wasn’t.
“I don’t know, but if I keep hearing so much talking, I’m going to have certain students pull their name clips down, and then they won’t get to have snack today during reading workshop this afternoon”, Tamiko admonished the class.
Silence.
“Remember this morning when we were working on adding details to our writing, well Eric and Jinelle want to share with you how they added details in their writing. First, Eric was just going to write that he went to the park, but then we had a conference and we talked about all the things he did at the park and so he was able to add many more details to his writing. Read what you wrote Eric”, she continued wrapping up the lesson.
Eric held his paper in front of his face and quickly mumbled, “I went to the park first I got on the swing my sister pushed me and I went high then I put my legs out so I could go higher and my legs went over the gate.”
“Wow, Eric! That was fabulous!” Tamiko praised. “All those details gave me a really good picture of what happened to you and it makes your story so exciting. Good work! C’mon everybody, let’s give Eric a roller coaster cheer!”
All at once the children made the motion of a roller coaster going up the slope and going down with a “Woo!Woo!” at the end for a cheer.
Then Jinelle shared her piece about her mom taking her to the dentist. Jinelle, who was not as shy as Eric, made sure all the children saw the accompanying pictures of her story that she drew as well. When she was done she also received the roller coaster cheer. Then both students put their writing away and joined the rest of the class on the rug.
“So today and everyday, when you are writing, you need to make sure that you add lots of details to your writing so that your story will be more exciting to your audience. In fact, let’s put that on our “What Good Writers Do” chart. Tamiko was gritting her teeth as she recited the scripted language verbatim. She hated using someone else’s words to talk to her students. But they had all this “data” that suggested such scripts made the lessons clearer for student to learn. So Tamiko didn’t argue. She just memorized her script.
Tamiko flipped over a chart on the teaching easel and hastily, but neatly added, “Do I have details” onto a short list.
“Now let’s go over some of the things we are going to look for in our writing the next time we write…” said Tamiko concluding the lesson.
And the whole class chimed in to “Are my sight words spelled right? Are my copy-right words spelled right? Do I have a lot of details?”
As the lesson ended, Tamiko looked up to see Booker, Nettlenerves, and Steele all skulking in to see her Shared Reading/Literacy Centers lesson. It was time for act II. Tamiko put her timer on for the lesson. She had 15 minutes for the mini-lesson. Only 15 minutes.
“Alright everyone, today we are going to be reading our Big Book “The Little Yellow Chicken”. Today as we are reading, we are going to practice something that good readers do. Good readers get their mouth ready when they get to a tricky word by making the sound of the first letter of the word. Then at the same time, they think about what’s going on in the picture to help them figure out what the word is. But before we get to our strategy let’s look at some of the pictures and get a sense of what this story is going to be about.”
Tamiko went through the book with the children and talked about what was going on in each page, taking suggestions from the children at times. After they all went through the book, Tamiko took extra pains to remind the students of the strategy they were using and then they all began to read the book together. There were post-its on certain words on different pages with just the first letter revealed so that students would get a chance to try the strategy. First, Tamiko modeled the strategy herself with a “think aloud”. In a think aloud, a teacher verbalizes her ideas out loud as a way to demonstrate to children how they need to be thinking in order to solve problems they may encounter in a given book. Then for the next few pages, Tamiko had the students join in to help her solve the tricky word. It seemed that the lesson was going well, until Tamiko glanced over at the clock and noticed that she only had 1 minute left to her lesson but several pages of book left. So she basically allowed the students to help her solve two more words, then read the rest of the book with the children while removing the post-its. When they were all finished reading the book, she talked about the lesson of the story with the students briefly before the beep of the timer interrupted them. Tamiko quickly stopped the distracting timer, and told the children that they were going to the reading centers and reminded them to use the strategy during their reading activities. Meanwhile, the women in the back were furiously scribbling onto their pads. Tamiko tried to shut them out as she directed the children to the centers.
“Remember to check the chart to see where you belong. Table monitors bring out the centers to the tables. Tigers you are coming to me first at the banana table.”
After the signal, a flurry of activity ensued and the children got busy at their centers. The Tigers (her lowest group) met her at the big crescent shaped yellow table and Tamiko got right into her guided reading lesson with them. They were all level A’s, which meant that technically they were not able to read. All five of them were English language learners of various backgrounds including Puerto Rican, Dominican, African, and Indian. Tamiko had to feed them most of the language of the text in order for them to manage it. One little girl had trouble pointing under each word as she read. The others had trouble with some of the concepts in the book. For example, one boy had trouble identifying the objects he saw in the pictures. Instead of reading, “I can see the truck” on one page, he read “I can see the car.” Tamiko just pointed out that it was a truck and not a car. The scribbling of the women continued. Finally, she had gotten around to all of them and then it was time for the children to switch centers. Tamiko’s group practiced their books while she ran over to get her tambourine. She shook it in the air. This time James was the first one to stop.
“All right, everyone! It’s time to clean up and switch to your next center. Remember to check the chart.” Remembering James’s wonderful turn-around she also hastily added. “Oh, and James, nice work stopping when I gave the signal. You can move your clip back to green.”
Tamiko stood in the middle of the room for a while to watch the children during the transition period. She found out the hard way that the transition periods were the times when any trouble that could start, usually did. And since she was watching, she could see that Jerome was being too bossy during clean up and didn’t want anyone to help him causing a lot of trouble with his group. Tamiko was able to avert the crisis by saying a few words to the students. She also saw how Nicole was about to start a tickle war with her friend Anastasia. Tamiko warned both girls that they were in danger of having their clips pulled down and found her way out of another potential nightmare. As she returned to the banana table to begin the next round of guided reading, Tamiko noticed Nettlenerves looking at her lesson plan and Booker interrogating some of the children. Tamiko took a deep breath and began to attend to the four children in her second group. They were her second lowest group they were level 3 (or a low level C according to Guided Reading gods Fountas and Pinell) and their book was a little book called “The Lazy Pig”. Before she knew it the women were circling her yet again and scribbling in their pads. After the mini-lesson, Tamiko began to listen to the children read one by one. In the process, she found that one of her students, a little girl named Arnetia, was actually trying the strategy and having some success with it. Tamiko praised Arnetia for using the strategy. “I hope someone’s scribbling that down.” Tamiko thought to herself.
Finally, the bell heralding the end of third period sounded and Tamiko summoned her tambourine once again. Then the women hastily scribbled their final entries onto their pads and left with as much stealth as they came. Tamiko had the children clean up and get themselves ready for the art teacher who was coming the following period. By the time the art teacher came, the children were waiting patiently for her on the rug and Tamiko grabbed her lesson book and her notebook and went upstairs for a meeting with her implacable superiors.
****
“So how do you think the lesson went?” asked Nettlenerves.
They always asked you how you think it went, first. Tamiko decided that she was just going to focus on her weak points. No one really thought her lessons were good, anyway.
“My strategy lesson for the lowest group may have needed some work. Looking back, I don’t think it was focused. I also think maybe the book was a bit too hard in terms of concepts. There were still some management issues with some of the transitions…”
“First things first. Let’s start with the Shared Reading, since that was the first part of the lesson”, Nettlenerves interrupted.
“Yes, of course”, stammered Tamiko “I know I didn’t get to all of the targeted words…”
“It was a bit too ambitious”, said Booker pouncing on Tamiko’s words.
“Yes. I was concerned with that, as well”, added Nettlenerves, “We have to make sure the lessons are done in ways that the children are getting what we teach them. I’m not sure if you’re getting that.”
More negativity. More criticism. Tamiko just nodded her head and looked down at her plan. She bit her lip trying to suppress her tears.
“Yes, the amount of work in the book was a little ambitious. Remember, you don’t have to have so many teaching points in the book to get your point across, and you have to consider time”, advised Steele.
“Yes, timing is key. I noticed that you rushed through the ending of the book”, was Booker’s critique.
“True, however, that move was warranted and she did get back to the meaning of the story by talking about the theme at the end. It was beautifully done. You took them right back to the meaning of the text.” Steele remarked casually “I will also add that the lesson was clear and focused and the children picked it up”, Steele asserted.
“Thank you”, was all Tamiko could manage, more dumbfounded by where the compliment came from, than the compliment itself.
“The strategy lessons during the guided reading groups were a little unfocused like you said. I noticed that when you conferred with some of your students, you did not engage in teaching that was related to what the focus was”, interjected Nettlenerves.
“I know. It’s just that it’s hard to know how they will respond to the books. Sometimes the things I think they will have problems with they don’t, and sometimes there are other things that come up on top of the challenges that I expected them to have”, Tamiko explained.
“I think it goes back to really knowing your students. If you know your students, you will choose the books so that they do engage in the problem solving that will get them to the next level”, added Steele once again.
“Yes, but part of knowing your students is what you are observing during the lesson. If your observations are off then your teaching is going to be off”, Booker commented.
The conversation went on for the next ten minutes or so about Tamiko’s conference notes and what she had written and whether or not it was a true portrait of each child’s ability as ascertained by the women who had been in the room. There was lots of back and forth discussion about them and it made Tamiko feel uncomfortable to say the least.
“How about we work on conference notes for a while. Tomorrow morning before school, we’ll have a professional development session on conference notes, then you’ll come and watch me in my classroom, and then you’ll do it on your own for a week and we’ll check back in and see how things are going”, suggested Steele.
“I think that would be good. And I’m going to schedule an informal observation in December to see how much progress is being made. Then we can work on choosing a focus for lessons as well as appropriate books”, said Nettlenerves.
Conference notes and book choice were the most basic things to teaching. They were like learning how to float to a swimmer. “If I’m not even good at this stuff, then maybe all hope is lost. Maybe I shouldn’t even be a teacher”, Tamiko thought dejectedly to herself. The compliment that had been paid earlier had been completely erased from her mind.
Arrangements were made for Tamiko to visit Mrs. Steele, and the meeting was over. At least, no one would be in her classroom for a week or so. And this time she got to be the observer instead of being the observed and that took a lot of the pressure off of her, but then Steele would soon be prying over her conferencing notes, lesson plans, and materials. It was enough to make her want to scream. Once she saw the other women starting to converse amongst themselves, Tamiko slipped away from the conference room and back downstairs to her own classroom.
****
Tamiko had left her professional development notebook in the conference room and had to wait until lunch before she could go upstairs and pick it up. As she neared the room, she could hear several familiar voices in conversation.
“It was okay, but overall, I wasn’t exactly bowled over. There’s definitely room for improvement. After all, Tamiko is only a first year teacher.”
When Tamiko heard her name it piqued her interest. The voice was that of Steele. It seemed that she and Nettlenerves and Booker were talking about her. Tamiko knew she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, and she was afraid of what she might hear. She knew the three of them did not think very highly of her as teacher. Then her curiosity got the better of her.
“There were a few positive aspects of her lesson. At least the management was okay, but teaching is more than just management”, opined Nettlenerves.
“True, but I think, she needs to learn that teaching isn’t just what you want to do to or for the children, it’s about working with them so that they can be independent”, said Steele.
Tamiko could expect nothing less from her. She knew she would try to sabotage her at some point.
“And do you really think she’s going to be able to learn these things from PD? I think that this is something you should know, regardless”, added Booker.
“I see what you mean. Some people just aren’t cut out to be teachers”, answered Nettlenerves.
“I’m not sure if I believe that. I like to think good teachers are made through good training”, asserted Steele.
“I think we need to be realistic, Rosalyn. We know where this is going. Mrs. Stone was thinking about just making her formal observation early and just giving her a U rating.”
“But then you know what happens when they get a rating like that early in the year. They give up and then it just gets worse. And you don’t want a loose cannon around when it’s time for the quality review”, said Steele trying to steer Nettlenerves away from such a drastic measure.
“You’re right. How about we just wait until the end of the year, and then let her go. I mean we could do it earlier, but I don’t think we’ll get anyone better this far into the school year on such short notice. I mean even though we have a couple of subs on hand, they’re not very good either”, suggested Nettlenerves.
“What about the union?” asked Booker.
“She’s a first year. She doesn’t have tenure, so we can just get rid of her”, remarked Nettlenerves rather flippantly.
“Are we still going to continue with the professional development in the meantime?” inquired Steele.
“Oh, Of course. We’ve got to cover all the bases. But you know as well as I do, Rosalyn, that all the PD in the world isn’t going to help someone who just doesn’t have the ability”, concluded Nettlenerves.
Tamiko was devastated upon hearing their exchange. It seemed that all of this professional development was just a smokescreen. They didn’t think it would help her anyway. She was going to be fired at the end of the year. There was no way she could go in there to get her notebook now. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Tamiko rushed down the hall to the staff toilet. By the time she got inside, rivulets of tears were streaming down her cheeks. Tamiko hated the fact that she always cried when she was upset. When she was younger, everyone called her the crybaby. That was how she felt right now: like a crybaby. Tamiko was going to be fired and she couldn’t do anything about it except cry like a baby.
Despite how she felt, she was not a baby. She was a grown woman and a teacher with students who depended on her. Tamiko realized that she had to stop crying and pull herself together. She went to the sink and splashed some water on her face, and then dried it off with the rough brown paper towels from the dispenser. Then she headed downstairs to her classroom where her friend Joan was waiting for her.
“Did you find your notebook?” chirped Joan upon Tamiko’s entrance.
“No. They were meeting in there, so I just came back down”, Tamiko replied absentmindedly, her mind still in the conference room.
“Are you okay?” inquired Joan who had observed Tamiko’s preoccupation.
“No. It’s nothing. I was just thinking about something.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing important.”
Tamiko was too embarrassed to share what she had heard with Joan. Especially with Joan being so favored by all of the other teachers, and the higher ups like Nettlenerves, Booker, and Principal Stone. Although she didn’t want to admit it, and despite the fact that such feelings ran counter to her Christian upbringing, she was feeling a little jealous right now. The whole thing reminded her of Tim’s situation at work. He too was the black sheep at his place of work.
“O.K. You ready for lunch?”
“I’ve changed my mind. You go ahead, I have to get ready for math centers.”
“I can come back and help you, if you want.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll be alright.”
Tamiko knew she shouldn’t have been letting her feelings get to her, but she just couldn’t help it. After all, she wasn’t in the best mood and she didn’t want to risk taking out what she was feeling out on her friend. Joan didn’t deserve that. Besides she wanted to be alone to really think about things.
“O.K. I’ll see ya later.”
“Later.”
Tamiko went over to her desk and took out her lunch bag. She brought it over to one of the student tables, and took out a sandwich. As she took a bite, she began to ruminate over the events of the day and the conversation that she had just heard.
“That’s what I get for eavesdropping”, Tamiko thought to herself. But then she thought that maybe God wanted her to hear that particular conversation. Maybe He was giving her a heads up so she could make a plan of action. As it stood, the school’s administration thought she was a horrible teacher who was beyond all hope. On top of that, there was that Steele woman who was openly trying to sabotage her, and the professional development they were going to provide was merely a sham. It was this realization that made Tamiko really angry. Nettlenerves, Booker, Steele and the rest couldn’t even be honest with her. They talked about her as if she was nothing and plotted to fire her behind her back. It was as if Tamiko were a lamb they were planning to slaughter.
“I’m not going out like that”, Tamiko thought angrily. “I’ll quit before I let them fire me.” Tamiko decided that she would stay through the end of next week. She would have left at the end of the day today, but she was helping the children to put on a performance for the school concert and didn’t want to bail on them before the big day, which was going to be next Friday. Yes, she would leave. In a way, her decision liberated her and made her feel better. Soon she would not have to deal with Nettlenerves, Booker, Steele or any of the other people at this school the devil was using to try to destroy her.
Thirty-One
When Tim opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness before him, he thought he was dead and had entered oblivion. But as he became more aware of his surroundings he realized that he was in a room where there was no light. He sat up and tried to think, but his head was throbbing, everything was foggy and the sudden rush of blood to his head made him dizzy, so he lay back down. Then it came to him as he rubbed his hands over his face. He had taken Clara’s advice after all, blew off the rest of the day at his job and went to Leandra’s Election Night Party. Was he still there in some back room? Was he in jail? He sat up again, a lot slower this time and peered around the room for signs of where he was. He was obviously on a couch of some kind and there was a table in front of him with something on it. So he checked it out and played with it and the TV came on illuminating the scene and yet blinding him at the same time. After recovering from his initial shock, he finally realized he was in his own apartment at the New Towers.
Then he decided to try to stand up, which took a bit of effort since he was still a bit disoriented, and walk over to the window to open the blinds. Then he decided to turn off the TV because it was making too much noise and his head couldn’t take it. Now that Tim was fully aware he began to take assessment. It was another full minute before he realized someone had taped a post-it on his shirt. Tim peeled it off and read it.
“I called in sick for you. Your stuff is in the bag next to the couch. Your car is in the garage over on 5th by Leandra’s. And you may want to change those pants and take a shower!”
It was times like this that Tim was glad for a friend like Allen. He always knew how to have a brother’s back. Tim looked down at his pants, but didn’t notice anything other than they were a little wrinkled. However, on second notice, they were a little damp in the front. A little damp in the front! And down the legs! Tim decided to take a page from Allen’s book and swore off all drinking from that moment forward. He only hoped that this embarrassing moment did not happen in public, and that Allen would be a good friend and be discreet. Then, all of a sudden, he felt that wave of nausea that would always sweep over him when he woke up. Within seconds he rushed to the bathroom to vomit. It was mostly just saliva and stomach acid, since he emptied out all of the alcohol on Callie’s dress when they were leaving the Election Night party. When he was done he flushed the toilet and leaned his head against the bathtub.
He had been reduced to this: a smelly, drunk loser. Correction: a smelly, drunk loser with no job six months from today, and who in the meantime had to serve as his worst enemy’s slave. Tim eased himself up, kicked off his shoes, and took off his pants and threw them in the garbage. He could hear Allen’s voice in his head say, “Are you crazy? Those are $500 designer jeans!” There was no way Tim was going to try to explain what happened with them to the dry cleaning guy or the laundry guy, and he certainly had no intention of laundering them himself. He walked back out to the living room and over to the couch to inspect the bag with his things. There was his smart phone, his car keys, his house keys, his glasses, and his wallet. Tim could always trust Allen to look out for him. He put on his glasses and checked his phone for the date and time. Wednesday, 4:30pm. Wednesday! 4:30pm! Today was his mom’s birthday, and Tim had to meet her for dinner in two hours! Tim decided to call her and try to get out of it. He didn’t want his mother to see him in his present state, and he didn’t want to have to talk to her about his job situation, though eventually he knew he would. He tried her number at work, but she wasn’t in the office so he tried her cell phone.
“Eleanor Russell”, she answered sweetly after several rings.
“Happy Birthday, mom.”
“Oh, Tim”, she said with some dissatisfaction in her voice. “I was wondering when you were going to call. Allyson called this morning.”
“Sorry, mom. Things have been pretty hectic on my end.”
“Are you alright, dear? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I been going through a lot of stress at work lately and you know how my stomach gets sometimes.”
“Well it’s a good thing for you that we’re going to Lydia’s tonight. They have an excellent chicken consume that would do you well.”
“I’m not sure about that. I really don’t feel well at all.” For the first time Tim was actually honest about his physical state. He had hoped his mother would be selfless enough to excuse him from his filial obligation.
“You’re well enough to work. You are at work, aren’t you?”
“Of course”, Tim lied. He knew that if he told his mother he wasn’t at work it would bring on a fusillade of questions and he was afraid that he might let it slip out that he had been axed. Though six months from now. Tim couldn’t risk it.
“If you can suffer through a few cramps at work, surely you can suffer a few more for your mother tonight, right?”
“I don’t see why not.”
There was no way he could win.
“So Ally and I will see you tonight at 6:30 promptly. I hope you’re not pouting, Tim. You would think that as old as I am now, you would cherish spending time with me. Especially after everything I have sacrificed for your well being.”
“First of all, I’m not pouting, and you know I don’t mind spending time with you.”
“I don’t know, Tim. When a child waits until almost the last possible minute to wish his mother ‘happy birthday’, and then in the next breath begins to make excuses as to why he can’t even spare a few hours for dinner, it’s enough to make one feel very unappreciated.”
“I wasn’t making excuses, mom. I was just telling you how I was.”
“Yes, you were telling me with the hope that I would excuse you so you could go off…tell me, Tim, what could you have to do that is more important than spending time with your own mother? Is it one of those whores you run around throwing money at?”
“No, it’s nothing like that! Why do you always have to read into everything I say?!”
“Tim, I’m your mother, I don’t have to read into anything. I know. And I suggest you watch your tone when you are addressing me.”
“I said I’ll be there, alright!”
“I’m not going to go through this with you, Tim. If you really don’t want to come then don’t come. Heaven forbid that I should be a burden” she retorted angrily before hanging up.
Tim had the better sense to understand that this meant that he had indeed better come.
“I love you too, mom”, Tim mumbled into the dead air.
He chucked his cell phone on the sofa and wasted no time getting ready for his mother’s birthday dinner. This was a formidable task considering his physical state. His head was still throbbing, and he felt nauseous and dizzy. Tim managed to stagger his way back to the bathroom and turned on the light. In the next moment he was once again kneeling in front of the toilet heaving what little intestinal liquid that was left in his stomach. When the fit was over he stood up, and stared at himself in the mirror. His curly hair was going every which way, and his face looked gaunt and haggard. Not to mention the serious five o’clock shadow. And he only had about an hour to change into a semblance of something a bit more human.
****
It was 6:25 when the cab Tim was riding in pulled up in front of Lydia’s restaurant. Tim struggled with his mother’s present, the flowers he picked up at the last minute and his enormous hangover, as he exited the taxi. If anyone had seen Tim two hours ago, they would have been pleasantly surprised by his transformation into his slicked back usual self. He knew his mother was very exacting about dress and decorum for occasions and it would have been an egregious transgression to arrive dressed in anything less than formal attire. So he wore his best black Armani over coat over his custom made dark-grey wool birds-eye suit, with his straight collared pink shirt (his mother’s favorite color) and a red silk tie, and black wingtips. It was raining out, but it wasn’t heavy rain, so Tim hustled under the awning of the restaurant for shelter before entering.
Lydia’s was a small but very expensive Italian restaurant. The décor was old world Italian and very cosy. The place was semi-crowded, but still, Tim was able to spot his mother and sister with relative ease. They were talking animatedly as he approached. The candles on the table highlighted his mother’s deep-amber colored complexion. She was absolutely radiant and it was easy to see how any man could have been enticed by her beauty. Eleanor Russell didn’t look anything near the 50 years she was celebrating tonight. With her slender frame, that looked like it was poured into her one-shoulder deep-pink evening dress and her long black weave parted down the middle, she looked as if she could be the sister to the young woman sitting next to her. Allyson Russell was just as beautiful with her curly sandy blond hair and complexion that was even fairer than Tim’s. Tim knew he was not in his mom’s good graces right now, and his sister, if she was aware of it, was probably trying to add fuel to his mother’s burning resentment. It all made Tim more than a little apprehensive as he approached. He was definitely hoping the night would pass quickly and bring as little conflict as possible.
“Good evening, mom! Happy Birthday!” He said straining to be cheerful while bending over to kiss her on the cheek.
“Hello, Tim.” Eleanor said cordially, if a bit stiffly. However her face began to brighten as she spotted the presents. Presents always had this affect on her. “Are those for me?” she inquired.
“Of course.” he said handing her the flowers and the beautifully wrapped box.
“How lovely. Thank you”, she said as she placed the presents on a cart next to their table “I look forward to opening them after dinner.”
“Hello, Tim”, he heard Allyson snarl at him.
“Hello, Allyson. How are you?” Tim asked without the least trace of emotion.
“Fine, thank you. And you? You look a little thinner than we’re used to”, observed Allyson.
“Yes, Ally. In fact, I’m noticing that now myself. You know he told me earlier that he was sick and I thought he was making an excuse to get out of dinner, but now that I see you I am concerned. I went ahead and ordered the consume for you as I promised.”
“It’s just things have been a little stressful for me lately, that’s all”, explained Tim trying to keep away from the topic of work “But enough about me. How are you, mom?”
“Oh, everything is going so well. And that’s no small thing given everything that’s been going on in the business world these days. I’m not saying that I haven’t had to engage in layoffs to save money, but overall my customer base is stable because the services my firm offers are even more necessary now. And despite the fall of the Dow, Sherman was able to rescue the majority of our financial holdings. I tell you Tim, that man is a more than a genius.”
“I guess that means I still have my trust fund”, joked Allyson.
“At least the modest one that I have for you. The one that your father has been keeping is another story altogether. Thank Goodness Tim was able to get hold of his already.”
“Have you heard from him lately?” asked Tim eagerly.
“Yes. But we’ll talk more about that later. Right now, I want to talk about my trip to Belize”, continued Eleanor bubbling over with child-like excitement.
“Belize?!” questioned Allyson in surprise.
“Yes. Since my firm is doing so well, I thought I would take some time to go on a short vacation. Of all the places I’ve never been, I’ve been hearing from my AKA sisters that it’s the new place to be, especially during the winter. I’m planning to hop down there for the holiday season with Terrence. It will be a wonderful break from the usual cold and dreary New York winter.
“And what about us?” asked Tim.
“What do you mean?” was Eleanor’s reply.
“Did you ever think that maybe you should spend Christmas with your family? After all it is a special day.”
“Well, of course we will be spending Christmas Day together as we always do, just not the days afterward.”
“Fine. Best wishes to you in Belize with your boyfriend”, Tim said in resignation. He realized that it would have been better off this way. Too much time with his family would put him over the edge anyway.
“Mom is allowed to have her own life, Tim”, said Allyson peevishly. Tim knew she didn’t care about their mom one way, or the other. She just didn’t want her own vacation plans interrupted.
“Thank You, Allyson. I’ve spent the past 24 years putting my all into my children. Is it too much, to want to do something for myself now?” said Eleanor almost whining.
“Is dad aware of your plans?” asked Tim. He knew his mother would occasionally have other boyfriends, unbeknownst to his dad. However, she had never been so very public about her dalliances with any of them until now, which made Tim curious.
“That man is no longer a necessary consideration in my life”, Eleanor snapped. “I have tolerated him long enough for your sakes, and now that you are both adults, he has outlived his usefulness. I just hope they have a Four Seasons in Belize.”
“If it’s a civilized place, they should”, commented Allyson.
The waiter appeared with their food. Eleanor had the gnocchi with spinach salad, while Allyson had the spinach lasagna and artichokes. Tim was served his consume as promised. The aroma from the food exacerbated his nausea. It took all his will and then some to keep from heaving at the table. He was also a little unsettled by his mother’s sudden independent spirit concerning his father. It wasn’t long ago that his mother was trying to impress upon him the importance of doing things to please his dad. Most times it seemed that everything he did was to gain the favor of someone who could have cared less. However now she seemed as if she didn’t care one way or the other. The whole thing made him curious as to what had happened to precipitate his mother’s sudden change in attitude.
“You are getting pale, Tim. Eat your soup. It will make you feel better”, Eleanor urged in an attempt to be maternal.
“No, I’d rather have some seltzer water.”
Eleanor waved the waiter over to their table and had him bring Tim some seltzer water.
“You know mom, I’m reporting for the Columbia Spectrum now”, Allyson remarked.
“How nice for you dear. And I was wondering how things were going with rush week. Have you been tapped to pledge AKA?”
“I don’t know if I want to be an AKA.”
“How could you not want to be an AKA! It is an honor that can open many doors!” exclaimed Eleanor in concern.
“Mom, in certain circles… I’ve been hearing that the AKA’s have become very lower class. Nowadays they let in any black girl who has a few dollars and some humanitarian dream. You should have seen them at pledge week. All these burnt ashy looking girls who are likely from the projects. I’m sorry to inform you mother dear, but I think the AKA’s are becoming the laughing stock of our people”, moaned Allyson petulantly.
“I find that extremely hard to believe!” exclaimed Eleanor who felt affronted by her daughter’s claim. “It just may be that particular chapter at your school. I warned you about Columbia. Too many radicals, too many liberals, and nothing but the riffraff of our race there. It’s the absolute ghetto of all the Ivies.”
“I thought U Penn was supposed to be the ghetto of all the Ivies”, said Tim.
“It is. And Columbia is none other than it’s profligate sister.”
“Why can’t I join one of the other sororities?” Allyson continued to whine.
“You can’t possibly mean Delta? Why on earth would you want to join that sorority?”
“I wasn’t talking about Delta.”
“Well, what other sorority could you be talking about? There are only two African-American sororities at Columbia.”
“What about Kappa Alpha Theta?” appealed Allyson sheepishly.
“Allyson Eleanor Russell, have you lost your mind!” exploded Eleanor suddenly.
“They’ve already contacted me and…”
“So tell them you’re not interested!”
Allyson’s lovely cream-colored complexion turned bright crimson. She bit her lip and looked away from her mother. Then Allyson started picking sesame seeds off the complimentary bread sticks on the table.
“Honestly, I am completely appalled by what I’ve just heard. I can’t believe that you would rather consort with beer-swilling, trailer-trash than with quality people of your own kind! Next thing you know you’ll end up like your brother. Hanging out with plebeian types who are good for nothing except trouble”, Eleanor ranted.
Allyson remained silent, but Tim couldn’t help but be offended.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe people who don’t have a lot of money can still be decent people?” asked Tim defensively.
“Not really as it’s highly unlikely”, his mother replied scornfully.
There was quiet at the table for a few moments. Soon Eleanor’s rage dissipated as quickly as it had materialized and it wasn’t long before she was chatting congenially with Allyson once again about less controversial matters. They spent a good deal of time chatting about procuring tickets for fashion week, and social circle gossip. Tim barely entered into the conversation at all except when asked the brief rhetorical question or to weigh in on some shallow observation. Then the waiter cleared their places and brought in his mother’s birthday cake. It was a seven-layer raspberry filled white cake with white icing, with a Roman numeral birthday candle. Allyson picked out a fruity, Sauternes wine to go with it.
Everyone had some cake, except Tim who had his serving wrapped to take home, and then it was time for Eleanor to open her gifts.
“Let’s see what my wonderful children have gotten me for my birthday.”
“Open mine first, mom” said Allyson practically shoving her gift in her mother’s face.
It was a small box covered with silver wrapping paper and tied with a metallic ribbon. Eleanor opened it to find an exquisite gold heart pendant. Allyson carefully studied her mother’s countenance.
“Oh, it’s lovely Allyson”, Eleanor gasped as her daughter beamed and let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“I got it at Tiffany, of course. They say these necklaces are only to be made for a limited run.”
“It will go well with most of my dresses. It’s beautiful. In fact, help me with it. I’ll put it on right now.”
Eleanor held up her hair while her daughter fastened the clasp of the necklace. Then she turned her attention to the other gift left on the cart.
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