After she dropped Miguel off, Colleen drove toward the elementary school, the dry dirt road kicking up dust. The weather was still warm. How would they survive all day in a metal box? No classroom with huge windows to open. No redbrick walls that cooled the room naturally.
The entrance to the school was blocked. A police officer directed her around a barricade to the parking lot beside the high school. When she parked, Colleen saw crowds of people dividing the street. Look at all those parents on the sidewalk. What do the signs say? FREEDOM OF CHOICE? Sure. Who exactly has a choice?
Colleen missed Mrs. Wilson’s cheerful morning greeting as she passed the main office in her new school. She knew to meet in the cafeteria, but where was it? Colleen followed a line of black teachers as they walked past a few white teachers who stood in their classroom doorways, as if on guard.
An announcement came over the loudspeaker: “All staff need to report to the cafeteria for the meeting.” The group of white teachers didn’t move. They glared at the parade of displaced teachers. She heard one complain, “Where are all these people going to fit?” Another said, “They don’t pay me enough for this.”
In the cafeteria, the black teachers stood silently in the back while the white teachers sat at the tables. No one invited anyone to sit, so Colleen stood with her colleagues from West Hill. After a compressed, to-the-point “Welcome, we have a busy day,” Mr. Palmer briefed the audience. “New staff will be escorted to your classrooms. Room assignments, class lists, and school maps will be distributed now. Except for the four teachers in the trailer classrooms, teachers will be paired in teams. You will meet your students at your assigned spots. Parents are outside, but I advise you not to talk to them. If a reporter approaches, don’t speak to him. There are some concerns about the high school. It’s possible that police will be called in to assure a safe and orderly transition.”
“More police?” a teacher called from one of the tables, breaking the silence.
A bell buzzed in the hallway.
“Teachers, there’s the eight o’clock bell. Please go meet your students,” Mr. Palmer said.
Colleen followed the white teachers and observed their routine of standing with a class sign along the back walkway. The building hid the demonstrations from the gathering children.
Colleen scanned the yard for familiar faces. “Lulu! There you are! Have you seen Evelyn?”
Lulu stared ahead, gritted her teeth, and hardly moved her lips as she spoke. “Didn’t you hear, Colleen? I don’t have a class anymore. You get six of mine. I get to ‘help out.’ And maybe you shouldn’t talk to me.”
“What?” Colleen whispered.
A white teacher glared at her. Lulu nodded toward the back of the building. Evelyn was standing with her 3C sign. A line of brown faces stood behind her. Colleen’s heart thumped with the sudden realization that the lines behind the white teachers had white children first, with a few black faces at the ends. She searched the faces of her students and realized how quiet they were. They’re scared to death.
A quick head count told her one was missing. Turning, she recognized one of her students approaching with a tall, broad-shouldered boy.
“Good morning, Rachel! Is this your brother?”
Rachel’s eyes darted from her teacher to the class behind her.
Even she won’t speak to me.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Frank.”
“You can meet us here at dismissal, Frank. I hope you have a good day.” Colleen took Rachel’s shaking hand. “Come here, sweetie. Stand with me.”
As Colleen watched Rachel’s brother walk away, she wished she had spoken to him a bit more. He appeared worried. She watched him as he walked toward the high school, his pace hurried. She turned back to her line and counted thirty students.
“Children! Everyone is here. Let’s go see our new classroom. Please follow me.”
As Colleen walked her class toward the trailer, she threw her shoulders back and held her head high. Would she be able to stay and do this? She had never quit a job. Her throat tightened. She was having trouble breathing.
On the periphery of her vision, a figure moved quickly. Was that Rachel’s brother, Frank, running? In the street, a policeman struggled to keep a dog from leaping toward some girls. Colleen hurried to usher the class into the trailer, locking the door from the inside.