It Doesn't Matter, Mrs. Elizabeth

Mrs. Elizabeth had wondered when she should get milk and eggs to complete her fridge for her new apartment since she arrived at the elementary school campus. The morning didn’t start right with her boyfriend, and she was glad the errands would stop her from approaching her apartment too soon after work. Now that lunch had started, and most of the kids had just left their desks and other classes, she was able to eat some of her lunch. She stuffed her wallet in her purse next to her, then, in defeat, put her lunch away under her desk, getting ready for the next few hours of work, unknowing now why she did it, or thinking why she wanted to teach children in the first place, now she’s 25 years old. Desperately, she wanted to hear a voice outside of the school’s closing walls and couldn’t hold herself steady while thinking about her apartment; although the quick errands she wanted completed, she would need to hurry after work if she wanted to be home and in bed before 10. Being glad she painted her nails this morning before 11, she looked over to the clock on the wall for confirmation - eleven-thirty, it read, and already the conflict to take her aspirin brought anxious anticipation for the arrival of Nelson’s parents.

Recently, many children have told Mrs. Elizabeth about Nelson's troubling behavior, and out of the many complaints, which were the only meaningful action she considered worthy, A boy named Alex, who was 11 years old, was the most likely, and is, a victim of Nelson’s small but effective wrath. Nelson knew where his stance would be and continued this for two days: swearing, hitting other students, and causing Alex to sit near Mrs. Elizabeth, which he felt embarrassed but relieved to have made the decision. Once this came to attention by one call yesterday late-afternoon, by a voice of a woman around late fifties, or maybe somewhere early sixties, Elizabeth thought, the woman had ordered Elizabeth an appointment for a conversation during lunch hours and to be ready by eleven-thirty, to mostly speak about other matters. “I don’t mean to sound argumentative, but would it be okay to set an appointment after school hours tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked on her smartphone. The lady’s voice trailed off, seemingly speaking to someone in her home.

Then: “I’m sorry, we would need to speak as soon as possible, Mrs. Lizzie.”

And, as Elizabeth was afraid to give off any indication that her throat was dry or her movement on the phone was being affected, she swallowed and asked, “Your Nelson’s parents right?”

There was silence, a sudden jolting in the phone on the woman’s side, and another jolting, and her voice saying, “Of course. We are Nelson’s parents; I apologize if I haven’t told you before.”

“It's fine,” Elizabeth said, wiping her hands due to sweat. “Let me go ahead and give you the room number to my -”

“That won’t be necessary, we’ve figured out which classroom after Nelson told us,” the lady said; Elizabeth imagined Nelson was somewhere in the room with her, probably just listening but not watching his mother.

“Oh, well, I’ll be sure to tell the front office to let you through tomorrow morning,” Elizabeth said, hoping what she indicated gave enough to appease the lady. She was determined to bring about this appointment and take it as seriously as her voice, not that she had taken any serious circumstances before, mainly for events where parents can join their kids for parties or show-and-tell.

“Please do,” the lady said, and added, “We’ll see you then. Good-bye.”

“Have a good rest of your -” before Elizabeth had time to finish her sentence, the lady had already hung up.

The time had now reached eleven-thirty-five, and by the ringing of the phone, which startled Mrs. Elizabeth at her desk, the phone connected throughout the school. She answered, and the woman at the front office said, “Mrs. Elizabeth?”

“This is her,” she said cautiously.

For a few seconds no one responded. Then, “Mrs. Smith and Mr. Smith are here to see you.” Another silence came, and the lady added, “Are you still available?”

“Send them in. Just make sure to tell them to take the stairs on the left, it would be closer to my classroom.”

“Sure thing. Good luck.” The lady hung up, and before she did, a slight giggle could be heard, and Elizabeth giggled along by herself once she set the phone back on the machine. The silence took over, and she looked around through her door, seeing the empty hall and kids outside through the two-doorway at the end. She felt they were close and quickly walked back to her desk and checked that no mishaps were easily noticeable. She wondered whether texting her boyfriend to pick up the groceries would be responsible for her to act upon, and thought, I am old enough to ask, it's not as if he’s my dad or mom. And by turning her head back to the door, steps could be heard coming up and a woman's voice saying, “I hope we're not on the wrong stairs.”

With the sun still shining outside and the kids having half an hour before re-entering their classrooms, Mrs. Elizabeth enjoyed the glass windows on the right of her that gave her classroom a warm tint. And while taking one last look, Mrs. Smith and Mr. Smith walked through the door. And, as quickly, Elizabeth thought to stand up and shake her hand, however, she immediately felt this would be inappropriate on her part to start it off as neat before entering into a possible, brittle conversation. Mrs. Smith, of course, said hello, as did Mr. Smith, who followed her between the desks to Elizabeth. Mrs. Smith stopped and looked around where to sit and Elizabeth, with strong anxiety, helped her by pointing out that she could use the chairs stacked against the corner of the room; Mr. Smith saw Mrs. Smith staring at him and he walks over to pick out two chairs and comes back and places neatly in front of Elizabeth’s desk. The two sat, hopefully, comfortable in their seats, and Mrs. Smith questioned whether to leave her purse on her lap or near her ankle. “Mrs. and Mr. Smith, it is very nice to finally meet you,” Elizabeth began. “I apologize we couldn’t schedule this any sooner.”

“No problem,” Mr. Smith said, smiling over at Mrs. Smith, then went back to Elizabeth. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing quite fine, thank you.” Elizabeth then turned to Mrs. Smith, and all she did was stare around the classroom before returning to her husband and Elizabeth. “And how are you, Mrs. Smith?”

“Quite fine, thank you,” she said quickly. Finally making her decision, Mrs. Smith kept the purse on her lap and added, “Nelson is sitting in the office; should I have brought him in?”

“Um. It would be okay to have him here,” Elizabeth said awkwardly. She placed her arms on the desk and leaned forward to copy how other teachers, older than eight years, made their stance in front of parents.

“Alright,” Mrs. Smith said and looked over at Mr. Smith. He looked at her, and clearly took pride in knowing how one husband learned their wife’s ways of instructing others, and got up and went out to get Nelson. Mrs. Smith glanced back as though Mr. Smith would suddenly object to her and turned back to Mrs. Elizabeth, moving her purse slightly, reclaiming whatever train of thought she had, and smiled empathetically. “He’s just gonna go get him. I know Nelson could be quite shy - is he like that with you?”

Elizabeth nodded and felt the headache she feared would come early in the afternoon; she thought about her aspirin in her purse and prevented herself from moving down to pick out her purse. “He does have his moments. Nelson has sometimes been a great helper and wonderful with others,” Elizabeth said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Smith said, “I know he tries to get along as much as he can; all kids do, really. I bet there's a lot to handle for you.”

“Not at all. Some, yeah; but in all, they are pretty good kids,” Elizabeth said flatly.

Mrs. Smith seemed to have caught on and added, “Well, I mean, of course, but some do like to test their limits, you know. Kids like Nelson, however, have always stayed put where they can handle.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Elizabeth said, and both turned when Mr. Smith and Nelson walked through the door, and Elizabeth stood up.

“Nelson, go ahead and sit between me and Daddy,” Mrs. Smith said. With a swift breath, Nelson strolls to a small seat Mr. Smith grabbed from the corner, and both came and sat in front of the desk. Elizabeth only watched and told herself she needed to do better, if any of these appointments were to occur later down the line, questioning if her headache had anything to do with it. I need to make sure to get bottles of water and supplies for the kitchen, Elizabeth thought, and looked on as Nelson, Mrs. Smith, and Mr. Smith looked at her and began preparing what to say next. “So, shall we start?” Mrs. Smith said.

A few minutes of gesturing their actions, presenting names, and forming a clear picture of each other’s motives, there was a shift getting ready to happen when Mrs. Smith began with, “Well, Mrs. Elizabeth”, holding her appropriate tone. “Mr. Smith and I have been going through a rough time. Sometimes, Nelson, when talking to the youth pastor last weekend, doesn’t like my latest boyfriend, Robert.” And without looking at Mr. Smith adds, “He lives with us: sometimes he helps us with the rent and groceries.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said. At least my boyfriend pays the rent, she thought.

“Though, I must say”, Mrs. Smith said, as she scratched her head for effect, “Nelson has been getting bold around me and Robert; I just wouldn’t expect it to be happening here with you”.

Mr. Smith placed his palms on his lap, glanced at Mrs. Smith, and then back at Mrs. Elizabeth with a quick smile.

“He comes to me on the weekend”, Mr. Smith said suddenly. “Just last weekend I took him to see a movie.” Mrs. Elizabeth nodded, feeling she hadn’t done anything but agreed, and looked at Mrs. Smith for approval. Mrs. Smith attempted to stuff her purse under her chair, only for it to fall out and drop. She quickly picked it up as if she had been caught with something foolish, a face she is used to giving. “Nelson kept talking about it,” Mrs. Elizabeth said.

Keeping her hands neat and peaceful, Mrs. Smith glanced at Mr. Smith, whose smile was profusely elegant, then said, “Tell me about it, my son watches movies like no other; it’s harder to take it away from him.” Seeing Mrs. Elizabeth give an awkward expression Mrs. Smith explains further, not believing Mrs. Elizabeth needed one. “Well, he gets so ruthless with his choices; I sent Robert to give him corrections and force that great boy to get some work done around the house.”

“He’s a good boy”, Mr. Smith said.

“It’s just that, with this tough place in our life”, Mrs. Smith begins, “this could have some odd effects on Nelson; we should take deep measures to keep our children safe from themselves, especially from boys like Nelson.”

Mrs. Elizabeth scrolls her eyes to the clock, as Mrs. Smith adds, “Of course, you would know exactly what I’m talking about?” she asked firmly.

Startled by the tone she usually got from the older teachers, Mrs. Elizabeth said, “of course”, in the calmest voice she could conjure. “It’s just that-”

“About what?” Mrs. Smith said deeply, slowly removing her grin while observing Mrs. Elizabeth.

Thinking about her two years working at this elementary school, constantly being confused as other students, Mrs. Elizabeth continued in her clearest voice yet. “I think it would be best to get Alex's parents involved; and maybe ask Nelson’s pastor to tutor him after school”.

“That would be best for everyone”, Mrs. Smith said quickly.

Both turned to Mr. Smith, who was dreamily staring around the classroom, thinking how often he’s heard his wife speak unlimitedly to other people. He nodded when realizing their eyes and smiled neatly at Elizabeth. “That would be best”, he repeats.

Before Mr. and Mrs. Smith got up slowly, making their way out of the room, Mrs. Smith, glad she spotted a portrait of Mrs. Elizabeth’s young boyfriend on her desk, asked proudly, “Tell me, do you plan to have kids of your own?”

“I’m not sure. My husband and I haven’t thought about it much but I’m sure he’s thinking of it too,” Elizabeth said, hoping it satisfied Mrs. Smith, humorously thinking to even have said ‘husband’.

“Of course,” Mrs. Smith said. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Have a good day.”

“You too,” Elizabeth said, and both Mr and Mrs. Smith walked along as Nelson was told to go outside and play, having only nine minutes of recess.

A few minutes later, the students came back into class holding their identities weakly, but relieved at their liberties. Mrs. Elizabeth said good afternoon to her class, taking attendance, and having the principal watch her with numerous intent. After he left to go whisper to the other teachers, Mrs. Elizabeth asks one of the girls to pass out the papers they completed and goes back to her desk to call her apartment, hoping her boyfriend would answer. Sadly, no voice answered on the other side. Taking out a small aspirin from her purse, saving the last for next week, Alex comes through the door and takes his usual seat. Putting his backpack on the floor, Mrs. Elizabeth calls over his name. Alex walks over with a small stroll and sits in front of Mrs. Elizabeth, glancing at his ripped shoes, as Mrs. Elizabeth begins writing whatever on her sticky notes. “Your parents called me after the appointment. Nelson will no longer be bothering you, alright.” Seeing an empty expression come from Alex, Mrs. Elizabeth felt this is the only time she would ever be useful to a student, and says, “But sadly, we would have to put another appointment for your parents to talk to. I’m sure you’ll be fine no matter what.”

Mrs. Elizabeth, sensing her mind going blank and becoming absolutely stale, dreams about her apartment and wishes for the weekend to come faster. Thinking silently how dark the sidewalks would be when she leaves back home, alone and depressed, going to bed, grading the work, patiently thinking where she would be in the next few years, and quietly going insane as the life she lived goes into a dark spiraling hole.

Alex’s eyes slowly melted away numbingly; the girl completed handing out the papers. “I’m done, Mrs. Elizabeth”, the young girl said proudly. Mrs. Elizabeth sinks into her seat when Alex says weakly, but stubbornly, “I don’t think it matters, Mrs. Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth quickly takes her last aspirin and says, in a whisper, “Let me tell you a secret: Me too.” She giggles.

Soon, the last bell rings and the class begins as if nothing went further than the last minute. All halls in the building slowly get swallowed back to their origin, melting away with no voice coming about, just closed doors and halls laying silently. Mrs. Elizabeth could finally go home.