I turned around and saw one of my students’ mothers marching toward me.
Mrs. Miranda.
I had seen it before during a parent conference when she argued that her son Evan was bored because I was “wasting time” helping other children catch up. She spoke about teachers the way some people talk about waitstaff, as if our usefulness only counted while we were serving her child. She had once called me at 8:40 p.m. to ask why Evan’s spelling words were not “more competitive.”
She stopped a few feet away and looked me up and down with open disgust.
Now she was walking across wet concrete in wedge sandals, staring at me like I had done something filthy.
She stopped a few feet away and looked me up and down with open disgust.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” she yelled.
Nearby parents turned.
Children stopped splashing.
I felt Daisy’s hand slip into mine.
“You have no business walking around in a swimsuit”
Miranda pointed at my swimsuit with vitriol.
“You teach children. And this is how my son sees his teacher? You have no business walking around in a swimsuit where your students can see you. It is shameless.”
I was wearing a plain yellow one-piece with a high neckline and a skirted bottom. There were women around me in bikinis and men around me with their shirts off, but somehow I was the problem.
Daisy gripped my hand harder.
“You should be reported.”
Then she started crying.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “This is my fault.”
My heart dropped.
“No, baby, no.”
Miranda kept going.
“You should be reported. I’m calling the school Monday morning. Teachers should not be allowed to parade around like this in front of students.”
So I started gathering our things.
My first thought was out of fear.
I needed my salary, my health insurance, my sick days, my routine, every piece of stability it gave us. Daisy still had follow-ups ahead of her. We were not done needing hospitals, paperwork, gas money, or grace.
So I started gathering our things.
I picked up our towels, shoved sunscreen into the tote, and tried to speak in a voice Daisy would trust.
“We are going home,” I told her.
