Part 84: Two more phone calls

I receive two more interesting phone calls over the next two days. Both are from teachers whom I know well.

One no longer teaches in my school, but for many years, we taught together and were close. We spent time in and out of school together.

I’ve visited her home many times. We once skipped a meeting to hike a mountain together alongside Donna. We routinely pranked each other as a part of the school day.

When she transferred to another school, we drifted apart, but for quite a while, we were good friends.

The other teacher still works in our school. I see her every day.

The first teacher calls because she’s angry. She’s heard about what’s happening to me and is upset that I’ve accused her of playing a role in this affair.

This is interesting because I never accused her of any such thing. I’ve mentioned the names of possible perpetrators to Paul, our principal, and an exceedingly small group of close friends, but her name was never included on my list.

Early on, one of my friends suggested she might be involved, but I didn’t think it was possible.

Why would she be involved?

Admittedly, she wasn’t a fan of our principal, and she’s friendly with people who I suspect might be involved, but I couldn't imagine her doing this to me.

When I started dating Elysha, I found myself with less time to spend with this person, and as a result, a friend suggested she might’ve felt betrayed by me, but betrayed enough to try to destroy my career?

That seems like a ridiculous response to someone who had less time for friendship because he was falling in love and building a life with his future wife.

If that were the case, all of my friends should be angry with me. I had less time for everyone once Elysha and I got together. That’s just how things are when we meet someone and fall in love.

But it's also entirely possible she knew what was happening and said nothing. Maybe she didn’t play an active role, but perhaps she was told about the letters and excerpts from my blog being prepared for dissemination and allowed it to take place without saying a word.

Maybe she saw it all coming and offered me no warning.

Sadly, this seems possible.

It seems even more possible now that she’s on the phone, insisting that she had no part in any of this.

“I never said you did,” I tell her. “I’ve told absolutely no one that you were involved. I never spoke your name once.”

She insists that I did. “I know you did.”

I insist that I did not. I have no reason to suspect her. No reason to think she would ever do anything like this to me.

“You don’t even work at my school anymore. Why would I think you are involved?”

We go back and forth for quite a while before she finally sounds convinced or is pretending to sound convinced.

Then I ask her the most important question:

“Who told you that I was blaming you?”

She refuses to answer.

I ask again and again, explaining that if I knew who it was, I could at least find out why they would say such a thing. They are either lying for some nefarious purpose or have been deceived by a guilty party.

Either way, I want to know.

She refuses to reveal the name every time.

Also interesting, I think.

Why not tell me?

Did someone really tell her that I’ve accused her of playing a role, or is she simply assuming that I have put two and two together?

We end the call on outwardly friendly terms, but I don’t trust her.

It breaks my heart.

The second phone call comes from the teacher who is still working at my school. She asks that Elysha and I both get on the phone line.

She wants to talk to both of us.

Elysha and I look at each other, a mix of confusion and curiosity on our faces.

She says that she’s calling to tell us that, no matter what happens, she thinks we will be okay. As terrible as things may seem right now, she thinks everything will turn out fine.

“I know you two will pull through this,” she says.

It’s an odd conversation. Even stranger than the first. It’s almost as if she’s saying these words to herself more than to us. I get the feeling this is a call from someone who feels guilty.

Elysha does, too.

I don’t think she’s directly involved either, but I also think she may have known what was going on but chose to say nothing. She’s also friendly with the people we suspect are involved.

She’s also a friend of the first teacher who called.

She was also one of the people in possession of the book that I took from the faculty meeting months ago, which contained underlined passages that sound eerily similar to sentences in the letter.

She may have been the book's original owner.

My guess is this:

She knew what was happening, but she didn’t expect it to go so far.

Or she knew how far it would go, but now she's having second thoughts. She’s seen the damage that’s been done and wishes she had said something when she still could.

Either way, this is not a phone call from someone uninvolved offering support. We’ve already received dozens of these phone calls over the past few weeks.

This is something different.

She was almost certainly aware that something was happening, but I can't be sure what.

Here is what I know for sure:

I don’t trust her anymore, either, and it makes me sad. Two colleagues who I thought were friends apparently had some involvement. People whom I thought I could trust are either guilty of playing a role or feeling guilty for knowing it was coming and doing nothing.

The pettiness, vindictiveness, and cowardice of these people astound me. This is our lives and careers, and they are treating us like pawns on a chessboard.

I did nothing wrong to these people.

Maybe they think I benefited from favoritism.
Maybe they don’t like the way I teach.
Maybe they’re upset about the way I push boundaries, move quickly, and bend rules.
Maybe they’re disgusted by my rapid rise to Teacher of the Year.
It’s even possible that my blog offends them.

I get it.

I’m a third-grade teacher who chaperones the fifth-grade overnight trip to Camp Jewell because they need more men, and I have a background in outdoor education.

I chaperone the fifth-grade trip to the Freedom Trail because I know Boston well and am good with kids in unstructured environments.

I built a stage in my classroom — complete with curtains, lighting, and sets — and perform Shakespeare every year.

I’m part of a select group of teachers who travel with our principal to teach our school’s Higher Order Thinking model around the country.

I recently flew to Dever to present our model at a university.

When my principal is absent, I host our Friday afternoon assemblies.

I win multiple grants from the district’s Foundation each year, including a prestigious grant managed by the assistant superintendent that has allowed me to bring laptops and video equipment into my classroom, while many classrooms still only have a single computer.

I have one of three Smartboards in the school, also grant-funded.

I’ve written and published articles in Education Leadership.

I frequently present my work at conferences.

My rapid rise and success might infuriate them, and if so, I might understand that.

But I did nothing to harm either of these people in any way whatsoever.

In fact, I have helped both of them on several occasions. In one case, I went above and beyond on a personal level to assist them in a time of need.

In response, they try to steal my livelihood and destroy my reputation.

Or at the very least, they stood by while others did so.

Had either of them called and said, “Matt, I feel awful. I heard that this was happening, and I didn’t say anything to you and Elysha because I didn’t want to be involved. I regret that now. The person or people doing this to you are…”

I would’ve loved them for this.
I would’ve understood it.
I would’ve forgiven them instantaneously.

But to make these mealy-mouthed phone calls, filled with guilt and maybe even a little fear, to try to rid themselves of any accountability, is just another act of cowardice piled on a mountain of cowardice.

Elysha is as disappointed about the phone calls as me. She, too, trusted these women.

Now we can’t help but wonder who else we can’t trust.

If these two colleagues and former friends knew something and did nothing, how many more people fit into this category?

And will any of them do the right thing and tell us everything?

I hope so.

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