Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
My eyes move back to Principal Dana and find that she, along with Anna and Barry, is still struggling to gain control of the students.
“The ambulance guys are here!” one little girl comments, and I look toward the stage to see that someone must’ve called 911, and three paramedics have arrived.
“Is Career Day over?” one boy shouts, and another follows with, “Maybe we’re supposed to be watching those 911 guys do their job?”
I choose to ignore their comments and focus on restoring elementary law and order. When a damn ambulance has to arrive and students fear that someone has died, it’s safe to say someone needs to take action and shut shit down.
With two fingers to my lips, I let out a loud whistle, and it’s piercing enough that most of the students look in my direction. “Everyone needs to be quiet right now!” I announce. “I need each class to stand up from their seats and get in your single-file line immediately!”
Since Mr. Houston never shouts, it doesn’t take a second try for them to follow orders. Kids hop up and over the seats—which Principal Dana eyes with disdain—but find their way into their lines quickly and even begin organizing themselves.
Teachers begin to lead their classes out of the auditorium, and finally, some tiny semblance of order starts to return.
I spot Thatch talking to his son Gunnar, who just so happens to be one of the kids in my current class. When Thatch meets my eyes, he gives me an incredulous smile.
“I guess I’m taking a rain check on my speech?”
“Looks that way.”
“Maybe next time you can give me some notice.”
“I’ve got you on my speed dial.”
“My dad has my mom’s tits on his—”
“Son,” Thatch barks, his beefy hand finding Gunnar’s shoulder and shaking. “I think the good students of Calhoun Elementary have been scarred enough for one day.”
“He really is your mini me, huh?” I say with a soft laugh.
I start to guide my students to the main aisle in a single-file line, but Thatch calls out after me. “Hey. I almost forgot to ask. Can you make it to breakfast tomorrow morning?”
“Does this breakfast include three other men with deep pockets?” I ask, and he gives me a big old smirk.
Hell yes.
“I think I can make it.”
“I’ll text you the details,” Thatch updates before giving Gunnar a hug goodbye and heading for the door.
The now-excited-for-another-investor-meeting part of me almost forgets about what just went down, but it only takes one glance to the stage to be starkly reminded. Katy is still MIA, and Brooke appears to be doing well but is still being assessed by the paramedics and the physician.
God, I hope Katy is okay.
Knowing her, she’s probably blaming herself for what happened here, even though it was completely out of her control. If I didn’t have a class of students to get out of the auditorium, I’d already be scavenging the halls and bathrooms for her.
All I can do is slide my phone out of my pocket and send her a quick, “Are you okay?” text message before returning my focus to my class.
I don’t get a response, but I don’t exactly expect one.
But you can bet your ass once I finish my dismissal duty, she is my number one priority.
Katy
You’ve failed your students and Brooke Baker and yourself.
Honestly, this might be the biggest catastrophe you’ve ever had as an educator.
I am in full-on beratement mode as I swiftly walk toward the nearest subway stop.
A deep sigh escapes my lungs, and it’s loud enough to earn a few curious stares from my fellow pedestrians. All I can do is briefly shut my eyes and wonder how everything got so messed up.
I’m a do-er. An achiever. I’m organized and always stay on top of my responsibilities.
And I’m a planner. A thorough planner who doesn’t leave anything up to chance.
Yet, today’s big Career Day for the students that I was in charge of was an absolute disaster.
You only have yourself to blame.
I can’t deny that. I didn’t put in the time and effort to know each guest who was there to speak today. I should’ve been aware that Brooke Baker has a service dog because of a medical condition that makes her a risk for passing out. Not to mention, she’s very pregnant. In her third trimester, actually.
I should’ve made sure she had a chair to sit down in while speaking. I should’ve had the school nurse available at the assembly in case anything went wrong.
Luckily, she’s okay and nothing tragic happened, but I can’t help but carry most of the weight of today’s chaos on my shoulders. I mean, one of my speakers passed out on stage, peed herself, and had to be assessed by paramedics all because I took zero precautions to prevent it.
If that isn’t an outright failure on my part, I don’t know what is.