Subject: Classroom fight. Hypothetical.

 Subject: Classroom fight. Hypothetical. (Rough draft.)

Setting: Modern classroom, elementary perhaps, crowded with tables, shelves, stacks of colorful wire crates filled with books, manuals, school supplies.  On each table:  piles of notebooks and iPads, canisters stuffed with fat markers, highlighters, crayons, colored pencils, sticky notepads. As fight starts, furniture will be overturned and carpeted floor will be strewn with books, computers, markers, highlighters, crayons, colored pencils, notepads, fallen crates. 

Four students per table. Mostly quiet. Some murmuring, but nothing that isn’t ordinary. 

 

Suddenly, one small human, hair in braids, rises from seat and crosses room toward another small human, ponytailed, who, seeing this human approaching, rises from seat and crosses room. They meet in the center. 

Noises: Distinguish between fighters and non-fighters. 

Fighters. No words. A thud starts it all, fist to face. Then more thuds: fists to stomachs, backs, faces.  Slaps. Lots of slaps -- open hands to faces, torsos, limbs.  

Grunts. Gasps. 

Hard breathing during hairpulling. 

Non-fighters encircle fighters. Mostly yells, high-pitched, also muddled sounds that are word/ scream combos.  Twenty-plus voices that blend together. Mood is chaotic. 

One voice is louder, deeper, but ignored by all. Teacher. Experienced. New to building. First day in this classroom. Yells words like, “stop,” and “everyone to the door” several times. On phone to office, says, “Two students fighting. Need assistance NOW.” Emphasis on now. Followed by more, “Everyone to the door,” and “Get into the hallway” as the punching, slapping, hair-pulling, grunting, gasping continues for several minutes. The crowd stays put, yelling and screaming. 

Then one fighter, exhausted, pulls away. The fight stops. The crowd noises continue. Words emerge: “Are you okay.” “Look at all that blood.”  “Check the floor."  "Is that blood on the table?”  “Oh my God, your hair.”

This fighter pushes students aside, walks to the hallway, the only one to listen to the teacher. (Is that ironic?) Braids, neat that morning, unraveled. Eyes vacant. Affect flat. Body stiff, zombie-like. Blood, scarlet, runs from nose to chin, drips onto white T-shirt. 

Office people arrive. One takes both students. The other, an administrator, stays to talk with class, which is louder now. 

Students jostle for spots on rug. 

Administrator teeters on tiny student chair. Signals for quiet. 

Teacher sits at office chair behind desk. Takes measured breaths with hand to chest, eyes closed.  

Student calls out “What will happen next?” 

“Yes,” teacher says, opening eyes. “Hi. I'm the teacher. First time in this building. Please explain. What will happen next?” 

Admin blinks rapidly. Nods.  Says "It's nice to meet you." Turns back to students, speaks robotically, like she is reading from a teleprompter. Recites platitudes. “You are all safe. There is nothing to worry about. The grown-ups will take care of this.” 

The students nod. 

The teacher, experienced veteran, raises an eyebrow, hand still on her racing heart. 

The admin nods toward the teacher, her voice syrupy now, says how lucky the students are to have this teacher visiting for the day, and how she hopes this teacher will return to this building another day because they sure could use the help. She tells the students to “do a good job, be mindful, remember our school rules.” Then all together, administrator and students recite the school pledge, which includes words like “safety, responsibility, kindness.”

A student calls out, “But what will happen next?” 

The teacher clears her throat so loudly that some students ask if she is okay.

The admin has been in the classroom for two minutes, less than one third of the fight time. 

The admin stands up and rubs her hands together, checks the watch at her wrist, obviously preparing to wrap things up. For a split second, the teacher and administrator lock eyes, then the admin focuses on a spot above all their heads.  

Her tone is wheedling. She does not answer the question. “Now boys and girls, is it a good idea to talk about this fight with anyone? Would it be fair to those two students to talk about this anymore?  We need to all put this behind us, don’t you think? It’s time to get back to work. We're going to have a great day."

While the admin talks, the teacher gathers her coat and bag and crosses to the exit. This obviously surprises the admin who has been talking to the ceiling this entire time and only realizes that the teacher is leaving as her speech comes to an end. 

The teacher waves to the class. “It was nice meeting all of you,” she says. “But now I have to go.” 

To the administrator she says, “Thanks for explaining next steps. Good to know.” 

She walks out the door, muttering, “Exactly nothing will happen next. Same old story.  Won’t be back here. Nope. Cold day in hell before that happens. Nope. Same old story. Won’t be back here.”