The School Bully

by Fiona Wilde

  “Weird and wrong,” Anna said, shaking her head. “Someone from the private sector of business would have a hard time relating to educators. It’d be a disaster.”

  She paused. “What’s his name?”

  Ginny shook her head. “No one’s saying. We don’t know any of the finalists’ names.”

  “Well, let’s hope they do the right thing,” Anna said.

  “Hey, just as long as they don’t reduce our pay that’s all I care about,” Ginny said.

  Anna turned away so the other woman wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. If she only knew how much other teachers did with a fraction of the income…

  “Yeah,” she said. “Right.”

  She turned back. “Well, I’ve got to finish getting cleaned up in here.”

  “I hear ya.” Ginny moved towards the door. “The announcement’s supposed to be in the staff room at noon. I’ll come get you and we can walk together.”

  “Sure,” Anna said.

  She watched Ginny go and after she was sure she was out of hearing, Anna heaved a big sigh of exasperation. Was everyone at Bridgestone gossipy and shallow and full of false assumptions about anyone different than the sheltered inhabitants of Langford? She promised herself that anyone else who referred to her former school as being in “the hood” was going to get an earful.

  Anna reached into her box and snatched out a laminated poster, which she unrolled and pinned to the wall. It showed a group of teens of all different sizes and nationalities.

  “Diversity is beautiful,” it read, and then considered the irony of hanging such a poster in a classroom full of upper class white kids who drove brand new cars home after school to a huge house and maid service.

  Anna hoped that, if nothing else, her planned one year at Bridgestone would result in some raised consciousness among the staff and students. In some ways, she expected more challenges than she’d faced in an under-funded urban school district.

  She mulled over how she could make a difference as she continued to set up her classroom. When Ginny Carlton came back in Anna was surprised at how quickly time had passed.

  “Wow, this is….different,” Ginny said, eyeing the diversity poster and unusual artwork that Anna had collected on two summer trips abroad.

  “I want to the kids to think outside their zip code,” Anna explained.

  “They’re not all cloistered,” Ginny said defensively. “A couple of them go skiing in Switzerland each year.”

  Anna wasn’t going to bother to tell her that wasn’t the same thing.

  “Let’s go,” she said, picking up her purse.

  The staff room was actually a large conference room by the administration offices. Most of the teachers were already there. Anna was surprised to see one or two from her high school days. There was Mr. Marriot, who’d taught chemistry. He still looked like Einstein, she observed. He nodded, smiled and tipped an imaginary hat to her when she walked in. She smiled back. The librarian, Mrs. Satterfield, was still there, too. She looked as old and dour as Anna remembered. As some of the other teachers laughed and talked around her she scowled. Anna had the impression she’d have shushed them all if she thought they’d listen.

  The teachers sat down around the table as the board filed in. It was the same four people who’d run the place since Anna could remember. They looked serious but optimistic and relieved. The choice of the headmaster would be the completion of the revised staff they all hoped would restore Bridgestone’s good name.

  Everyone quieted down as the board members took their seat and Desmond Fremont, the chairman, began to speak.

  “As you know,” he began, “Bridgestone Academy has faced the toughest year in its long and storied history. The shameful behavior of our last headmaster, whose name I shall not even speak, has sullied a long and proud tradition of a fine institution. At the end of last year we began the work of rebuilding that tradition by purging our staff of anyone who might taint the school by association. As you know, this is a tight knit community, and anyone who might be seen as sympathetic to or forgiving of a man who would abuse his authority as our last headmaster did was asked to leave. We were fortunate that most left without a fight. The others we had no choice but to purge more forcefully. We’ve been fortunate to have attracted new talent, some of which may look familiar…”

  He nodded at Anna.

  “Anna Fowler is back from teaching in a challenging environment upstate. She’s won numerous teaching awards and we are looking forward to her youthful vigor and optimism. Her exemplary record is a bonus.” He paused. “I only wish her return had been under better circumstances, both for us and for her. Miss Fowler, again, I regret to hear of your father’s passing.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered, nodding left and right as the other staffers mumbled condolences.

  “We retained some staff, brought in new and were satisfied and in general disagreement except over the crowing position. Whom would we choose for a new headmaster? We’ve always had educators at the helm, but this time a candidate stepped up from the private sector, a young man who graduated college to work in his family’s business. He was in contention with the former head of Yardley Prep and a noted former board member and retired teacher from prestigious Ravenscroft Girl’s School. It was not an easy decision, but by a slim majority, our board has decided that it may be time for someone from the business world to run this place with the kind of accountability and managerial skills that will shape its future…”

  Anna could hear the word ‘no,” forming on the tip of her tongue. They were actually going to fill he headmaster’s position with someone from the private business sector? Some pencil pusher who’d walked from an expensive university into his daddy’s business? Could it get any worse?

  “So without further ado, I’d like to welcome a new and familiar face back to Bridgestone Academy.”

  Mr. Fremont stood. “Ladies and gentleman, please welcome your new headmaster, Logan Chance, III.”

  “No!” This time Anna said the word, quietly but loud enough to draw curious glances from the people sitting beside her.

  By the time he walked in her head was spinning as all the anxiety she’d thought she’d conquered came rushing back to her in a flood. The handsome that looked self-assured to everyone else looked arrogant to Anna, who felt her pale skin grow even paler as the new headmaster’s ice blue eyes scanned the room and then came to a sudden stop when he saw her.

  “I’m honored,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face even as he addressed the room. “The decision to trust me with the challenge of rebuilding Bridgestone is one that I take seriously. As a young man, I did not always value discipline; as an adult I do and if I had to define the problem this institution has suffered, I would have to say that it’s a direct result of a lack of discipline, not just of the students but of the staff. In the business world I’ve learned that actions have consequences; perform well and you are rewarded. Perform poorly and you are punished. It’s a formula that works for business and works for people.”

  His eyes scanned the room but came to rest again on Anna. She could feel the weight of his gaze. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  “Defiance of order will not be tolerated,” he said. “Leadership will be obeyed. Leadership will lead. Firmness and fairness. Buck the system and suffer the consequences, regardless of age. That is our new mantra. Everyone answers to me; I’m ready for that. And the buck stops with me. It’s a responsibility I’m ready to accept.”

  Everyone around here was politely clapping and nodding and smiling. Anna could not bring herself to join them. Once again, the Big Man on Campus had stepped forward to dazzle everyone with simple words, as if laying down the law would have everyone marching in lock step. She wanted to stand up, to tell them all that the rigid rules and conservative posturing was likely what caused the former headmaster and head cheerleader to do something so completely outrageous as to form a relationship.

  She could feel his gaze still on her. She
summoned the will to look him, finally, and their eyes met. The feelings of anxiety intensified. He was studying her. What was he thinking? That he could return to his bullying ways? The he could relive his glory days of strutting around on campus calling the shots?

  The other teachers were getting up now, pressing forward to shake his hand and welcome him to the staff. Anna stood, too, but hung back. She wasn’t going to shake his hand. All could do was stand there and think the school had made a huge mistake by signing a contract with this pompous bastard, and that she’d made a mistake by signing one with Bridgestone before she knew…

  Chapter Two

  Had anyone noticed that she’d slipped out before the informal reception was over? When Anna Fowler had been a student at Bridgestone, she’d often felt invisible except for those times when Logan Chance or his friends decided to amuse themselves at her expense. On those occasions she wished for true power of invisibility. Now she wished for it again as she returned to her classroom.

  She decided she simply could not deal with this. It wasn’t going to work. Anna looked around her classroom, half-prepared for a new school year. When the school secretary, Darlene Kroger, came to tell her that the new headmaster had requested she come to his office, Anna wasn’t really surprise. It would have been naïve to assume he had not noticed her obvious snub. She wasn’t looking forward to what she had to do, but told herself that it would soon be over.

  “Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said, starting to take her posters down.

  “I think he wants to see you now,” the secretary said almost apologetically.

  She looked at the woman and frowned. “Ten minutes,” she said.

  The secretary left with an uncomfortable look. Anna took the rest of the posters down, boxed them up and then went down to the office, where Mrs. Kroger introduced her with relief in her voice.

  “Miss Fowler,” Logan Chance said. He was sitting behind his desk already. His diploma was already on the wall - an MBA. Other pictures had yet to be hung, shots of him yachting and skiing. Anna noticed an absence of family photos on his desk. He wore no wedding ring; she assumed he’d not yet found a woman good enough for him. The thought almost made her laugh.

  “Sit down,” he said. She complied, taking a seat across from his desk as he got up and shut the door. He leaned forward as he faced Anna, his hands clasped in front of him. The blue coat he’d worn with his suit was tossed over a nearby leather sofa. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at your reaction,” he said. “I wasn’t very nice to you when we were students here. The big tend to pick on the small until they know better.”

  When she didn’t answer, he continued.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You’ve changed. If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re beautiful, Anna.”

  “I do mind.” She looked at him, narrowing her eyes in anger. “It’s sexist, and totally irrelevant to this conversation, Mr. Fowler.”

  He fell silent and then stood. Anna glared at his back as he walked to the window. He looked out for a moment before turning to face her.

  “Alright,” he said. “I’ll accept that. You’re right; I was out of place. But I’m probably going to make quite a few decisions over the next few years that you’ll find out of place.”

  Anna gave a harsh laugh.

  “I’m not going to be around to see them, Mr. Chance. I want out. Coming here was a mistake.”

  “You signed a contract, Anna,” he quietly replied.

  “I don’t care.” Her tone was adamant. “I don’t want to teach here under…you.”

  It was abrupt and to the point, but Logan Chance III did not immediately reply. Instead he walked back over to his desk, where he sat back down and opened a manila folder in front of him.

  “While you were keeping me waiting I requested your file, Miss Fowler. It’s impressive. You’ve won multiple teaching awards for turning a failing class into a bunch of scholars. Kids respected you, parents liked you, schools wanted you. You got other job offers, according to your performance reviews, but turned them down to stay. That’s not the kind of commitment consistent with a woman who now tells me she wants to quit her job before she starts.”

  Anna felt her pale cheeks grow pink with anger.

  “If this school had not misrepresented itself then perhaps I would want to stay,” she said. “I’m not quitting because I’m not prepared to what challenges this place may offer; I’m quitting because I disagree with working under a headmaster with no educational background and the same playground bully mentality that he had when we were students here.”

  “Now you wait just a moment…” he began, but she continued.

  She stood up. “You may have been able to call the shots when we were thirteen, but you aren’t calling them now.”

  Anna turned to walk to the door, but was halted in her tracks when he spoke to her.

  “Sit back down,” he said curtly. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  She turned, about to ask him how he dared to speak to her in such a manner, but now he wasn’t giving her a chance to speak.

  “I’m not letting you out of your contract,” he said. “If that makes me a bully throwing my weight around, then so be it, but school starts tomorrow and I’m going to have a full staff ready for the students. I won’t be short my middle school instructor because of one woman’s tantrum…”

  “Tantrum!” Anna had never felt so angry. “I have every right to be upset. This school has not grown a bit since I left. The atmosphere is still the same. The same mentality prevails as it did when we were students. Are you aware that this place still uses corporal punishment?”

  “I am,” he said. “And I completely condone it.”

  He nodded towards the wall and was only then that Anna realized that the dreaded Bridgestone Academy paddle - the implement responsible for the humiliation and tears of so many students - was no longer relegated to the closet but was now out in the open, a symbol of the power and intimidation of authority.

  He looked right at her. “Quite a few kids could use a good spanking when they can’t control themselves and that paddle is a good deterrent. And a few adults could, too, including one standing right in front of me.”

  “If that is your idea of a joke, Mr. Chance….”

  “It’s not, Miss Fowler. As I said, you are under contract. Break it and I’ll make sure every potential employer will know you can’t be trusted. Stay - which I think you’ll realize to be the wisest move -and be prepared to follow my rules. Or else.”

  Anna opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She was beyond incensed and insulted. She’d expected the new headmaster to be on the defensive, but instead he’d all but laid down the law to her. And the worst part was, he wasn’t going to let her leave and he was right - there was nothing she could do about it. Bridgestone Academy had required her to sign a contract. Breaking it a day before classes started would leave a black mark on her spotless employment record. She couldn’t let that happen. Now she was stuck following the leadership of her childhood nemesis.

  “Do we have an understanding, Miss Fowler?”

  She wanted to tell him that they didn’t have an understanding, not in the least. What they had was a contract.

  “Fine,” she said, and turned back to the door.

  “Miss Fowler, one more thing,” he was saying. Anna, who was beyond eager to leave, summoned the will turn back to him.

  “Yes sir?” she said sarcastically.

  He regarded her for a moment, his handsome face stern.

  “I meant what I said in the staff room. I won’t brook disobedience, not from the students and not from the teachers.”

  “Can I go?” she asked, making it apparent that she was dismissing his comment.

  “You’re excused,” he said quietly.

  Anna resisted the temptation to slam the door as he left, but couldn�
�t resist the urge to stomp down the hallway. She kept her head down, not wanting to look at anyone through eyes brimming with angry tears. When she entered her classroom she shut the door, locked it and lowered the shade over the window on the front. Her hands were shaking as she began unpacking the boxes she’d started to pack.

  At her former job, she’d taught her students to face adversity with courage and self-confidence, to believe in their own power to overcome what appeared to be insurmountable obstacles. She’d taught them to overcome the pitfalls of social cruelty - the intimidation and bullying - by remembering that they were bigger than those things. She’d inspired her students, but when it came time to heed her own advice she found it was harder than she expected. Anna disliked Logan Chance more now than ever, and found him more intimidating. She was infuriated that he’d all but mocked her by pointing out the paddle. What was that all about, anyway? He obviously hadn’t been implying that he’d actually use it; after all, that would be assault. He was just using it as a physical representation of his power. But that didn’t make it any less revolting.

  “I hate him!” she said aloud, and then flopped down in her desk chair. Anna stared out at the empty classroom, trying to imagine the kids who would fill the vacant desks the following day. Spoiled children of privilege. Budding Logan Chance types. Little monsters in the making. If she couldn’t defeat him, she could at least teach them to be different.

  An idea was dawning now. So Logan Chance thought he was in control, did he? So he thought he was going to shape the next generation of Bridgestone students? So he thought he’d use some paddle-wielding, militaristic approach and get away with it? Not if she could help it.

  For the first time that day, Anna Fowler smiled. Her mind was whirring now, weaving a plan of subversion that would have Logan Chance sorry he ever tried to intimidate her. If the handsome headmaster was going to use her contract to bind her to Bridgestone she’d make sure by the time she left, it was her mark that would remain and not his. She’d teach the kids to see their headmaster as the exact opposite of a role model. Of course, it would all be cleverly subversive. But do it, she would.