A Life's Purpose by Alex Dean

Author:Alex Dean [Dean, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trebor & Taylor Publishing

Chapter 11

Two days later I arrived at work early for a meeting with Gladys Brennan, the school’s superintendent. After finishing my usual morning cup of green tea, I ventured into a conference room where eleven of my colleagues were already seated. I had absolutely no idea what this meeting was about.

But what I did know was that it was mandatory for the entire teaching staff at L. Bowers Elementary to attend. The first bombshell that had been dropped on me was that Mrs. Connie Jacoby, the teacher who I was hired to assist, had just requested five days of sick leave. On top of that, the pool of substitute teachers was so low, and other teachers in the school so overburdened, that by the time capable help was found, Mrs. Jacoby would be back in class. So I was now being formally notified that I would take over her class in her absence.

The meeting lasted for about an hour. But the fact that Mrs. Jacoby would be missing in action for a few days was not the main topic of discussion. What it boiled down to was the powers that be wanted to let everyone know of the school’s bleak future. Its very likelihood of remaining open hinged on how well the kids progressed by the end of the academic year. Most of us teachers and staff were devastated. Not only for the sake of the children, who had already been the victims of one too many district closings and had to be consolidated into existing, already overcrowded schools, but also for us as educators, whose primary area of expertise was in special education. How likely would it be that we could readily find new employment?

I left the conference room stressed, then filed into my classroom, which was filled with energetic and hyperactive kids. Still, I remained positive throughout the day, even when it came time to face parents at the end of my last class. As I stood behind my desk at 2:47 p.m., putting away extra supplies, crayons, and pencils, my eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room. One of the students was still sitting in his chair, with his head buried in his arms.

His name was Malcolm Warner. He was your typical student, with a special talent that I’d noted in the past—the ability to draw really well. Concerned, I walked over to his desk.

“Malcolm, why are you still here? Are you all right?”

He raised his head slowly and shook it from side to side. I could tell he’d been crying.

“I want to kill myself,” he said.

I stood there, shocked. “Why would you say something like that? What’s bothering you?” I asked him. “And what are you drawing?” I picked up a white sheet of paper from his desk and saw that Malcolm had drawn a sketch of a person hanging by what looked like a noose.

“They bully me. They talk about the way I look and about us being so poor. So I don’t want to live any longer, Ms.

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