4

There was no school today, but that didn’t stop Beatrice Beagle from showing up, and tidying up her classroom. Tomorrow was a big day, and she had a big surprise in store for her students. The anticipation of that surprise, and its associated restlessness had driven her away from her quaint home and was now pushing her to ensure that everything would be tip-top when her old friend Roana arrived.

Everything had to be absolutely perfect.

In that spirit, she had spent the last twenty minutes scraping gum from the bottoms of desks and was now headed to the Janitor’s Closet for a mop.

The janitor had already mopped, of course – two days ago on Friday, after school – but that wasn’t good enough. Even if it meant putting in a few extra hours of unpaid work, Beatrice was determined that everything would be…

“Perfect!” She said in disgust.

The closet was locked, and she didn’t have the required key.

“I knew I should have brought one from home!” She fumed, knowing it was too far to go to retrieve one now. Friday’s mop job would have to suffice.

She had never had a problem bringing in items from home to help her do her job. Some of her fellow educators complained about it, sure – both bringing in their own, and her bringing in her own – but Bea just tuned them out whenever they told her that it was the school district’s responsibility to provide those things.

“You shouldn’t set a precedent, Bea!” How many times had she heard that?

Too many.

She knew that school budgets were always tight – never mind her own paper-thin margins – and knew there was no point arguing that point.

Those things were necessary to ensure her little darlings received the best education she could provide them.

So, she brought them in.

“Parents shouldn’t have to provide those things, either!” Her fellow staffers complained. Though, there weren’t as many who complained about that as there were who complained about being pressured to do it themselves. In fact, most of them expected the parents to bring enough, not just for their kid, but for the kids whose parents couldn’t afford the little that was asked of them.

And so what if the extra printer paper the parents were “invited” to supply ended up in the office – used to print the oceans of documents that the students never saw. It was still for the student’s benefit.

And who - other than the teachers and staff - even knew that the dry-erase markers were tossed in a pot and distributed evenly throughout the entire school? No one. The practice supported all the students, so what was the difference?

Most of the teachers, even, weren’t aware that about a quarter of all the items collected were sent off to other schools in poorer neighborhoods – some not even in the same district. Those schools catered to students, too, and those students needed support. It was only kept secret to keep it from becoming a big argument at school board meetings. Outside the upper echelons of the school administration, only a handful of people knew that. But Beatrice had been around long enough to know all sorts of secrets.

For instance, she had been privy to confidential discussions where district big-wigs had openly admitted that it was the fault of the parents – the voters – that they didn’t receive enough tax money to fund all the programs they wanted, and so those parents needed to cough up the rest. One way or another.

Education – like everything else politicians had their hands in – was big business.

Beatrice hated that aspect of it.

But there was nothing she could do about it. It was the game everyone played, and if you wanted to be an educator you had to play, too.

“There is never enough money, and never enough time.” She told herself, angry for having to leave her floor unmopped. “And it looks like it’s going to rain!”

The hallway leading back to her classroom had large windows on one side, and those windows provided an exceptional view of the town – the school being situated on the tallest hill in the county. Over that town, and most of the county, it seemed, a bluish-black storm cloud was gathering – though, she could see, the storm itself was still a few hours away.

“I’d better finish up and get home!” She advised herself. Her three cats did not like thunderstorms, and if she wasn’t there to soothe them, they would leave her quaint little house in a shambles.

As she was about to turn from the windows she noticed four of her students walking into the neighboring woods.

“You’re going to get struck by lightning!” She wanted to yell, but they would not have heard her.

“Oh well, it’s Sunday! They aren’t my responsibility until 8am tomorrow morning!”