Chapter Nineteen
Maintenance Requested
So today was the day I reached my boiling point. Today was the last straw. It wasn’t my choice to come back to school after Thanksgiving break, it was something I was forced to do. But could I just come back and deal with a normal day at work? No… I had to be greeted at 6:30 a.m. by someone pissing all over my art department. I hadn’t even made it into the fucking door of the school yet!
Here’s the backstory: In the spring of last year, my advanced art class had completed a Learn and Serve project. Basically, this was a project that would somehow serve the community, fit into my curriculum, and out of it, the kids got to go on a field trip and they would receive money to complete a project that would normally be impossible. Trips and money are two very rare things in my school district. And surprise – I actually go out of my way to try and give my students opportunities and experiences that they would otherwise miss out on.
The project that we chose to do was create large sculptures for our new (and barren) school grounds using recycled materials. It was a very successful project that spawned life-sized warriors (our mascot), over-sized wind chimes that spelled out our school initials, and a 20 foot tomahawk. The tomahawk was the prize of the project and it was cemented into the ground outside of the school entrance, near a set of huge windows belonging to the cafeteria.
Of course, this amazing project that the kids had worked so hard on was the subject of my anger. As I approached the school doors, I realize that the project looks strange, like a large mass peering out of the darkness. At first I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, that I’m still half asleep or something – after all it has been a few days since I’d been up that early. I reach the end of the sidewalk and just stand there, dumbfounded, and I just stare that the heap of ¾” rebar, wire, and recycled items. Somehow this massive, sturdy artwork had been rolled up into an unrecoverable pumpkin roll over the Thanksgiving break.
Someone must have really hated me. Someone must have really wanted revenge for something. Someone must have had a lot of help. And that someone must have had a truck.
I have to wait a while before the principle gets to school. Meanwhile, I stay in my classroom, stewing, getting even more pissed with every second that goes by. Finally when I know she has arrived, I storm to the office. I’m shaking with rage by the time I get to her office and I ask to see the video footage from the outside cameras from over break. I ask as calmly as I can, but it’s not hard to know when I’m fucking pissed. Well, after a long conversation on the situation and a few attempts to recover the footage, it’s deemed that the outside cameras were down over break. There is no way to tell who did it.
Irony. A cruel joke. A sign that says ‘Get the Fuck Out as Soon as You Can!’ Whatever it is that I take it as, I go back to my classroom and slam the door. I shut out the world until 7:30 – I wish I could shut them all out forever.
Of course, I felt angry, but it was the surge of wanting to do physical harm coursing through my body that made me pick up a hammer and take all the rage out some random pieces of metal that were sitting around my technological artwork. I almost wanted to take it out on the artwork itself. But I knew better. I think that the only reason that thought even crossed my mind was the fact that I felt that this artwork held the possibility of failure.
I hated the prospect of disappointment. I cringed at the mere speck of not getting approval. I was afraid to fail. It was as simple as that. I didn’t want to go forward for fear of setbacks. I didn’t want to try anything new for fear of not succeeding. Was my constant need to please everyone the only reason I was miserable myself? Was it the assurance of doing well financially the only reason that held me here in this hellhole – keeping me from getting away from it all and starting my life? Perhaps, it was even the fact that someone had gotten the better of me in destroying the tomahawk, making feel stupid – a failure to my students for not protecting their accomplishments.
And at that moment, I realized I was done. Completely done with the fear of failure. Done with my hesitant outlook on life. Done with taking everyone else’s advice and not my own. Done with listening to my head and not my heart.
With that determination still coursing through my veins, I went to my desk and grabbed the neglected Art Show application that had been sitting on my desk for days. Before I knew, the form was faxed, the endeavor was complete, and a weight was lifted. I almost felt like I had got my revenge at that moment. It was like the asshole that had destroyed my students’ artwork and the years of denying myself happiness had melding into one - and at that moment, I defeated both of them. And for the first time, I felt like I was coming out of my own abyss and finally living my life – even if that feeling was only briefly relished and was suddenly interrupted by the sound of 7:30 a.m. school bell and the rush of the world intruding upon me once again.
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