WHY I TEACH-Part 15: Understanding

Kaylie crumpled into a pile of disheveled goo at her desk, put her head down, and sobbed softly. I looked at the kids around her, they shrugged.

“Kaylie,” I said, “Can you come here for just a second?”

Kaylie heaved herself up, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and walked slowly to my desk.

“What’s going on?”

“I had a miscarriage,” she stammered.

“Oh, Kaylie,” I stood and put my arms around her, “I’m so very sorry! Let’s go in the old office and talk.” I ushered her into the room and turned back to the class, “Get busy, do your work.”

“Sit, sit,” I encouraged Kaylie. She obliged.

“First are you ok? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

Kaylie looked up at me and fresh tears welled up. I looked around frantically for tissue and found only paper towels, but I grabbed a handful and offered them to her.

I knew Kaylie was a junior, maybe 17, but other than that, I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.

“I’m fine.” She sniffled and wiped her nose. “It happened this weekend. And I know I’m young, and I know a baby is a bad idea, and I know I need to finish school and I know I love my boyfriend.”

I nodded along.

“But I’m not a whore.” She began to sob again.

“Wait, what? Why would you say that?”

“I told Ms. Keen about it. She’s always asking how I am and about Brent, because he took her accounting class last year, he’s a senior.”

“OK.” I nodded.

She took a deep breath. “I told her I had a miscarriage and she said, Kaylie you are such a whore. Thank God you had a miscarriage.”

“I’m sorry, what did she say?”

“She said she was glad I had a miscarriage.”

“What the fu..” I began, “I mean what’s wrong with that woman? Kylie, I’m sorry anyone would treat you that way. I’m sorry you had a miscarriage. You are not a whore, you are a beautiful young woman.” I scooped her up and hugged her tightly.

“Some people are just idiots,” I whispered. “Not you, you are amazing, just in case you’re wondering.”

She cried more. I smoothed her hair back behind her ears. “Why don’t I get you a pass to the nurse’s office. You can go lie down and just take care of yourself.”

Kaylie nodded and blew her nose into the paper towel.

“Hey everyone,” I said to the class, “Kaylie isn’t feeling well, who would like to escort her to the nurse’s office?”

Kaylie started to object. “It’s a rule, no one goes to the nurse’s office alone, wouldn’t want you passing out or throwing up by yourself.”

She smiled weakly. Several hands were up. “Anyone, in particular, you’d like to take?”

“James,” she said.

A large boy in the back bounced up. “Do you need me to carry you?” he asked.

Kaylie smiled again. “Maybe just my stuff.”

“I can do that,” James said cheerfully, “Let’s get you to the nurse.”

I managed to make it through the next 90 minutes. When the bell rang, I darted right to Ms. Keen’s classroom. I found her by her desk, talking to several students. I walked up and waited, arms folded until she noticed me and shooed away the students.

“So Kaylie came into my classroom crying last period,” I began.

Ms. Keen huffed, shook her head, and made a disgusted sort of face.

“Did you tell her you were glad she had a miscarriage?”

“Damn straight I did. We don’t need another teenage mom, welfare baby.”

“Why would you tell a woman you were glad she had a miscarriage? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not a woman, she’s a slut who can’t keep her legs closed,” she said the words in such a calm matter of factly way.

“You are a seriously screwed-up person. No sane person would ever say that to another human being. How can you be so callous?”

“Someone’s got to set her straight and be honest with her.” She took this air of superiority as she stood up and squared her shoulders. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Fine, I’m going to report this to Mr. Myers. What you did isn’t right.”

She laughed a nasally snort. “Goodness, you go right ahead. Mr. Myers. What a joke.” She pushed past me as she left her classroom.

I clenched my fists and started walking toward my classroom. I passed by Mr. B.’s room and turned back to enter it. I walked into his soundproof audio/visual room, closed the door, and screamed.

Mr. B. found me in my classroom later. “You OK?” he asked. “I noticed you came into my room during lunch.”

I looked blankly at him.

“I’ve got cameras,” he offered.

“I just needed a minute,” I stuttered.

He sat down beside me and waited.

It took me a minute or two to compose myself. As I told him everything that had happened, his jawline tightened and he ground his teeth.

“Thank you for taking care of Kaylie,” he finally said. “She’s a good kid. The devil, she is pure evil.”