For three years I fought tooth and nail. I documented everything that had happened in regard to this student, from her bringing me a cookie, to her driving by my house with friends, to her writing me notes and making horribly inappropriate comments during class.
And every time these parents came to my school administration with allegations of something else, I had documentation to show it didn't happen. Or, in my best case scenario, I had witnesses in my favor.
Students are attracted to my office everywhere I go no matter what. I take a vested interest in all my students and I take a vested interest in everyone I meet. I like to get to know people, their stories, and that includes my students. I give good advice because I've gotten good advice, and students enjoy having conversations with me.
I was having a lesson, and thankfully, it was with two boys and two girls. We were nearing the end of the semester, and it was getting close to graduation. The students were in my office, watching a video on proper singing, only it was a humorous video showing someone improperly singing (Miranda Sings - look her up if possible because she's hilarious!).
And then I saw her. She had come down to the music wing, even though she had been told by administration (so they told me) that she was to stay away from the music wing, since she was no longer a part of the music department. But there she was, peaking into the choir room, while I sat in my office looking in dismay, a clear shot of her.
I'm not sure if it was fight or flight that made me suddenly get up from my seat around the computer, but I told the students to keep watching and went into the music library, which was an internal room surrounded by my office and four others. My first thought was to run the other direction, but I knew I couldn't possibly see her as it would throw me (or had already thrown me, whichever way you want to look at it) into a tailspin.
So I took a deep breath as the video came to a stop, and asked one student to close the door. I didn't want to give this girl any reason to think we were talking about her or any reason to make anything up about what she "thought" she had heard or seen. I began asking the students various and sundry things about "next year" just so I could keep them in the office. I didn't want to risk opening my door. I'm sure they thought it was a weird lesson, but I just kept the conversation light. Really, my heart was beating horribly, I was shaking, and I was trying to keep my cool in front of my students.
Finally the time came for them to go, and I dreaded them having to open my door. So as they did, I went back into the music library and hid, hoping and praying that nothing would come of this awkward encounter, if you can even call it that.
Oh, but something did come of it and as the day came to a close, I was called down the principal's office. How many times had I made that trip? How many times had I made that trip with these exact same feelings? How many times had I wondered what he was going to say to me?
And when I got there, he asked me to sit down and closed the door. This time, instead of saying, "What happened today between you and this student?" he said, "This student came forward (again). She stated (for the millionth f-cking time) that you were in your office with some students. What is it that you were doing with those students?"
"I was giving a lesson."
"What was the lesson about?"
And I proceeded to tell my administration the story. Again. The same story I had been telling for the last three years. "I didn't do anything wrong."
And then they threw a curve ball at me.
"SHE alleges that as those students were leaving your office, she spoke with Student A and Student A said you had asked HER was she was doing down in the music wing (yeah, what the f-ck was she doing down in the music wing? Didn't you tell her that she wasn't supposed to be down there?) and then proceeded to make some snotty comment about how she's not allowed to be down there. So we called in this particular student and questioned him, along with the others who were in your office for that lesson."
WHAT?! And again, the feeling of the floor coming out from underneath me that I knew all too well began, the room started swimming and I was in shock. They conducted an investigation, within hours of this girl coming down the music wing, without my knowledge? They questioned "witnesses" and allowed this girl to, yet again, sit in their office and spew her dirty, dirty lies? Witnesses that may or may not have been friends with this girl?
I had been shaking the entire walk to the principal's office with pure anxiety. What was he going to say to me? What had happened now? But after he told me what had transpired that day, I started shaking with anger. How dare this school official act in this incredibly unprofessional manner. How dare this school official make me feel like I am the problem? How dare this school official, who is supposed to make sure I have a safe work environment, create an environment where I am threatened, scared and quite frankly, sick of?
But I had a wild card that this girl hadn't thought of. I take a vested interest in my students. I like to get to know their families, I love hearing their stories of their shopping trips to the mall; I genuinely care about everyone student I see on a daily basis. Even when I have to kick students out of class, I still like them as people. Even when I have to discipline a student for a stupid decision they make, I still like them. They still have a clean slate with me the next day.
I had taken a vested interest in these students who were in my office that day, and because of that, when questioned by the administration, stated that they had no idea what this girl was talking about. And then, all of a sudden, the tables had turned.
Here I was, a victim of this girl, her wicked lies, her witch-hunting parents, her sick and twisted friends. These students saved me that day. They proved this girl was a liar. They proved that this girl was out to get me. They told the truth. The truth about how I was professional in every sense of the word. The proof that they were truly having a lesson, and learning something from me. They spoke the truth when they said that this girl was the liar. They pointed the finger, which broke the camel's back.
In the next days, I felt like I had won. I was done with this girl. The administration had had enough. My union representative had stated that this was probably the last I would hear from this family. Finally, she told the lie that sealed her fate and I had won. I had won. I had won.
But this was April. July had yet to come.
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