Would you believe it if I told you once upon a time that a certified teacher kicked my door, TWICE, and called me a bitch? Well, it’s true. Many crazy things happen in schools, especially in Title I schools. It teaches us where we are in education, where we are going, and what we need to do differently. Professionally we have to be upskilling and reskilling our employees because learning never stops. We need to restructure things, but that will be a post for another day. When employees do not have the necessary skills and training around culture and competency, we breed environments of insecurity, conflict, and opposition.
I have always been a fantastic teacher. I finished my first year teaching with 98% proficiency and exceeded growth expectations. I loved my students, I was very professional, but professionally and personally, unlike Cady, I am never concerned with fitting in. Teaching is an interesting profession because professional means different things to different people. In my second year, I came across a teacher that would eventually, in their mind, frame me as their worst enemy.
Backstory. My classroom was on the way to their classroom. Every morning, “They” would come in late and say good morning to all the teachers. “They” were the definition of a social butterfly. When they came by I would simply nod. Little did I know that really really bothered them. It bothered them to the point “They” eventually pulled me aside even though I was talking to other teachers. The conversation:
Them: “Ms. Mayes, do we have a problem?”
Me: “No, and I am sorry we don’t work together intimately; what problem would we have?”
Them: “Well, you never say good morning, and where I come from, that is rude; you need to learn to speak when someone speaks to you. You could understand why I would think we have a problem.”
Me: “I nod at you, and where I come, that’s not rude, it was never my intention to offend you, but this seems like a small cultural difference, not a problem.”
Them: “Well, how would I see a nod? I mean, we are both from the south, right? If you smiled more and spoke, I wouldn’t feel this way and it is rude regardless of culture; it’s unprofessional.”
Me: “I acknowledge how you feel, but how you perceive me and whether I smile or speak is not a reflection of my professionalism.”
Them: “I have been teaching for a while. This is me trying to help you; you don’t have to take this personally. Us black women have to stick together. Do you just not want me to speak to you, I don’t have to say good morning or anything to you.”
Me: “I think that would be best.”
(I promise I did not say this to be petty; I just wanted whatever this was to end)
My teammates overheard the exchange and told me, Kim, don’t worry about it; that was crazy. I didn’t bring it up again, but the administrator pulled me aside two weeks late to talk to me. It really wasn’t a problem in my head. I was shocked.
Fast forward. My principal asked me to move to the eighth-grade team the following year and asked, “Is there going to be a problem being on the person’s team.” I hadn’t thought about them. My focus was on growing my students and myself. I had 96% proficiency, met growth, published my first curriculum unit, and logged professional development hours in coding, learning management systems, and Edtech. I was above it all. I received attention in-house and out of the house, awards for pushing the boundaries and bringing tech and experiences to the class with grants; the whole school knew my name. Let me tell you, your light agitates people’s demons.
Looking back, there were a lot of little moments that came to a head. For example, when I first moved on the team, we had to decide Google Classroom or Canvas. I advocated for Canvas; if we want our students to be college and career ready, they use Canvas in college, and the district no longer supports Google Classroom and advocates for Canvas. “They” advocated for Google classroom because it is easier for the teachers and students. We went with Google Classroom because most teachers hadn’t done their training. This is what laid the groundwork for a lot of future problems. It was also what differentiated the high-performing teachers and the low- performing teachers. “They” were great with the kids. Their relationships were on point; but they did not use technology, or utilize a lot of movement, and “They” rarely did anything novel. Although I was stoic, TFA trained us to be “no-nonsense nurturers.” My class was controlled chaos where the kids would do stations daily, walk around and create and experiment. We had a platform known as Dyknow, so you could monitor the student’s screens, so even when the kids were moving, I could walk around on my phone or laptop and monitor what they were doing, send messages directly to their laptop and block sites.
Finale. On the day “They” kicked my door, I was in the first fifteen minutes of class. I always lectured for 15 minutes and then released the kids to do their inquiry-based activities. That fifteen minutes was critical. That day, I forgot to exit my Dyknow from the previous class. I had done the training, so it wasn’t necessary to end it; a teacher could steal whatever kid they wanted, it was literally two clicks, but “They” didn’t know that. As I was teaching, “They” sent their teacher’s assistant. I looked. I gestured to a kid, THE designated door opener (DDO), to open the door, and the assistant said Mx. XYZ said can you end you Dyknow so they can monitor ABC student. I said, “I can, but they can just take them,” and continued teaching. Three minutes later, I hear another knock; this time, a student, I gesture for my DDO to open the door, and I say, “tell ’em to take him.” Five minutes later, I am wrapping up the lecture, and I hear a knock. I barely looked back and held up a finger. It didn’t register; it was the teacher. Not until I hear, “Open the door,” and I told my DDO, don’t open the door and kept teaching. We all know school shootings and violence are an American problem, so one of my strict rules was that my students did not open the door without my permission. So when “They” said “Open the door” again, my student shook their head no. “They” started banging on the door. I kept teaching, harder, then “They” kicked the door twice and yelled “You bitch.” I apologized to the students, and we started the class. I went to lunch, took my kids to electives, it did not cross my mind to tell the office, etc. When I tell you teaching Title I, you see so many fights and blow-ups you become desensitized. So when I was on the bus lot waving goodbye to my kids, imagine my surprise when I heard the principal ask for Ms. Mayes to come to the office.
I had a mediocre principal; the school had dropped from a D to an F under their leadership, and the kids did not respect them, and neither did the teachers. They had left a high school for a middle school, and now they are at a failing elementary. If you are unfamiliar with education politics, that is professional punishment. The principal asked to hear my side, I told them, and they said, well, “They” said you yelled at the TA to get out, rolled your eyes at a student, and when they came to your door rolled your eyes, kiddies your teeth and told the kids to ignore them. I told her the easier way to solve this was to look at the school cameras. My principal instantly hesitated and said we don’t have to do all of that (later on, I found out the assistant principal had looked at the tapes and said it was crazy that I was in trouble). They said you are both at fault, and maybe if I was kinder to my fellow teammates and SMILED MORE, this would not have been an issue, the kids come first. I responded that had “They” done the Dyknow training, this would not have been an issue. And if the kids came first we would make sure everyone completed training, including social-emotional competency training, so that the kids have a safe experience. That we all had to be held to a higher standard. She said she hears me but wanted to arrange a meeting with the teacher the following day. I asked for a neutral third party. “They” recounted their altered version, to which I simply responded, that doesn’t sound like me. “They” even said at one point they felt disrespected I asked for a third party and if they wanted to fight me they could just jump across the table right now. My third party tried to be objective, the principal was not, but the standing resolution from the principal was just nicer to each other. I didn’t talk about it after that, but the problems continued.
The kids created a betting pool of who would win in a fight. Another teacher came to me and told me, “They” talked about me to other teachers. We had a team meeting with all the teammates and the AP. It was eventually revealed that “They” thought that I thought I was superior, they knew I talked about them in the teacher’s lounge, that I thought I was better, and that I was selfish for not helping or offering to help them in the training sessions, because I just did my work and left, that I made them uncomfortable because I didn’t contribute to birthday celebrations or gifts, that I always brought up why certain things might not work or be in the best interest of the kids, that I did not go to happy hour or sit with them at lunch (I ate in the teacher’s lounge), and I never said good morning. One teammate was “They” best friend so they also retweeted everything that was said. One teammate said “They” actually made them feel uncomfortable, because they are passive aggressive and tend to talk about others which makes them think about what is said about them. One teammate said they thought I was a good teammate and appreciated what I did to manage the students and team. Another teammate blew me away and actually stood up and said, “Ms. Mayes is brilliant”, “she always helps me because when I ask,” “this isn’t high school. She doesn’t have to smile at you or be your friend,” “I have never heard her say a bad word about any of you, and it’s in your head; you are so focused on her, focus on yourself.” I cried. I told my team, “I know I am different, and no, I don’t socialize, I have one goal when I get here, which is to focus on the kids, that’s it, and if our job is to accept the kids for how they are and who they are I don’t understand why a problem is created where there is none” My assistant principal spoke up to “bless their heart,” and said “‘They’ are good with the kids, Ms. Mayes is great with the content, you two are the kids favorites. Hands down. You don’t have to work together, but you two should be able to coexist.”
I left that school at the end of the year.
It was the biggest exodus of educators in school history. Over half of us left the entire building. But “They,” “They” are still there. My Assistant Principal Awarded me Teacher of the Year for the Eighth Grade for the eighth-grade graduation. So I guess I was doing something right. 🤷🏾♀️
Classroom to Corporate 