Tinfoil Rose (eBook)

Two

As the first rays of light rose to embrace the sleepy little town, welcoming a new day filled with whispers of hope, Abigail woke Chloe and helped her get ready for school. They followed the same routine every day and were ready to head out the door at the usual time. The only change would be that Abigail would not be teaching at Jackson Paul. This deviation from the norm would require some explanation on her part to a little girl who could not fully understand the truth at her age. As she drove past the staff parking lot and pulled into the drop-off circle, Chloe immediately questioned her mother.

“Why are you stopping here? This is where kids get dropped off.”

Abigail shifted the car into park and turned to face the confused child. She placed her hand gently on Chloe’s before breaking the news. She had lain awake all night trying to figure out how she was going to tell her daughter she no longer worked there. A short, simple, albeit vague explanation was all that a six-year-old needed to know.

“Mommy’s going to take some time off from school, Chloe. I would walk you to your classroom but I need to take care of some things right away. I’ll be back to pick you up at three forty-five, so come to the front door when the bell rings, okay?”

Abby prayed her daughter wouldn’t hear the tremble in her voice and she feigned a smile to assure the child there was nothing abnormal about her decision to take a break from the norm.

“Are you sick?” asked Chloe, squinting her eyes and searching her mother’s face for signs of a fever or rash.

Oh, yes, that’s my perceptive little girl. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“No, Honey,” Abigail assured her. “I just need some time to figure a few things out, that’s all. Now be a good girl and get to class. Tell Ms. Campton you’ll be dropped off and picked up from school every day, and remember to turn in your permission slip for the field trip to the Grand Rapids Children’s Museum. You wouldn’t want to miss going to such a fun place with all your friends. Now hurry up or you’re going to miss first bell. Butterfly kisses…”

Abigail leaned forward and fluttered eyelashes with Chloe, who innocently accepted her mother’s excuses as valid reasons to deviate from their customary habit of entering the facility together. She usually trotted down the little kid’s hallway to the Fish Room while her mother took the third-grade wing to the Smiley Face Room. Today would be different and she knew she would have to get over it. Chloe opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, shouldered her purple backpack and waved at her mother. Abigail knew this was just the beginning of some very significant changes for them both.

She already missed her students as she watched the children go into the school, completely unaware she wasn’t coming back. Her lesson plans and all the material for the next two weeks were on her desk, which made it easy for a sub to walk in and pick up right where Abigail left off. Because she was instructed not to enter the school to retrieve her personal belongings she was not holding her breath that the employee file where she kept copies of her evals and cert renewal papers would be included when Jan dropped them off. Besides, who knew when would that be? Her files might already have been removed from the classroom – or maybe not.

Staff knew the outer door on the west side of the building remained open after hours on Tuesday nights for community recreation activities. She could return later that night and try to get the second shift custodian to unlock the classroom door. Perhaps he wouldn’t have heard about her being let go.

Suddenly the question of ethics plagued her. Was this the sneaky, underhanded scheme of a desperate woman stretching her principles and risking the occupational security of an innocent coworker? No. She wouldn’t do it. She would not be accused of misleading anyone or stealing materials. She was determined to solve her problem in an ethical and legal manner, and to safeguard her character from any hint of reproach. There had to be another way. She would call Gail, Chloe’s teacher and Abigail’s good friend, to get the files from the classroom for her.

As she pulled away from what had been her second home for the past two years, tears bathed her cheeks and she felt the loss as strongly as if she were dealing with the death of a loved one all over again. She was not remorseful she had confronted Jan with what she knew to be a violation of the standard oath taken by all professional educators. It was wrong to do what she did: falsify information, forge a signature, conceal reports and lie to a friend. But why?

Abby needed answers. She was on the phone as soon as she got home and logged on to the state website.

“Office of Teacher Certification. This is Mary. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mary, my name is Abigail Dickinson-Bennett and I was hoping someone could check the database to see if paperwork was filed for an emergency extension of my provisional teaching certificate.”

“I can do that for you. Spell your first and last name for me please.”

She did so.

“Thank you. Hold a moment.”

Abigail heard a click, then silence. She would’ve been grateful for elevator music to soothe her nerves as she waited for Mary to return to the line. Even something that mundane would’ve made her feel not quite so alone in this whole mess.

“Sorry for the wait, Ms. Bennett. The request for an extension was filed in December by Principal Janice Banks, who then later withdrew her authorization and stopped the process before it could be reviewed and approved.”

“Does it say why it was withdrawn?”

“No, I’m sorry, there’s no record of that information.”

“Is it possible I could speak with a certification auditor in your department?” Abigail inquired, hoping to find a morsel of encouragement there.

“Hold please.”

She was once again engulfed in silence as she waited for someone, anyone, who could help her. Abigail knew that if an extension had to be initiated by a supervising principal, then to look for answers along that route was out of the question. There had to be an alternative, some way to bypass the system, some angle she hadn’t thought of.

Pick up the phone, pick up, PICK UP!

“This is Leslie, how can I help you?” offered a quiet, steady voice unaware of Abigail’s escalating hysteria.

“Hi. My name is Abigail Bennett,” she said, trying to remain calm. “I was wondering what options there are for meeting the three years of teaching service required for professional certification if I’m on my last provisional renewal and will fall a couple months short?”

“Your principal needs to file an emergency extension with the state prior to the expiration of your certificate.”

It was the cookie-cutter response she already knew and anticipated.

“What if I don’t have a current teaching position?”

“Well, you could send a work experience report to any schools you worked for previously and they will record how many days you taught in your certification area. They then would need to send the information to our office and we would add those days of satisfactory service toward your renewal. Would you like me to send you the necessary forms?”

Everest will never claim I had any days of ‘satisfactory’ service in their schools.

“Uh…” she hesitated, wondering if she should even bother when she already knew the result; but then a new thought stuck her.

I wonder how many days I can get from Howard Public when I subbed for them. It’s certainly worth a shot.

“That would be super, Leslie, thanks.”

Abigail proceeded to give her contact information. Her only concern was that her substitute teaching experience in her home town had been in both the primary and secondary buildings, and she knew her K-8 certification would limit how many days counted toward a renewal. But, she had nothing to lose. It was certainly worth a try.

She went online and Googled the school district in her place of birth. Unfortunately, the computer didn’t yield much helpful information. She was disappointed to see a skeleton home page with no other links than a map and minimal contact information. Abigail shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Howard had been a very small town, a village really, that was unable to grow much due to its large septuagenarian population. Therefore, they hadn’t caught on to the wave of modern technology as quickly as some of the larger, affluent neighboring districts. The vast majority of residents were of an elderly generation who struggled to buy medicine they needed to keep themselves alive, let alone financially support the schools by approving any tax increases that would go to benefit the education of young students in the community. She crossed her fingers and hoped that perhaps they had managed to maintain an organized paper trail, especially if they’d not yet received funding to convert past paperwork to digital files. She decided to contact them by phone. She was a little more confident of getting a live person on the other end in the sleepy bedroom town.

“Allen County ISD, Janet speaking,” answered a pleasant voice.

“Hi. I’m calling to see if you can check your computer to see how many days I substitute taught in grades K...