Almost Fired

One brutal Monday morning at 7:25 am, I was yawning outside my classroom door as I tried to welcome students to class and help them feel my excitement for the new week, although I was still reaching deep into my heart to try to find the excitement. A student walked up to me and said “Ms. Davis, I’m not your student but I thought I should let you know that one of your students said last night on Twitter that he was going to kiss you today in class,” then she walked back into her AP English class. I just continued to yawn; the cognitive processing part of my brain was apparently still tucked into my bed at home because I quickly dismissed the Twitter post as far-fetched and the ridiculous comments of a teenage boy.

However, after first period, both Kim and I have our consultation periods and she came over uncharacteristically serious. A different student had reported the Twitter comment to her but in greater detail. Apparently the student was in my honors class and had said that if he got 100 “favorites” on his post, he would kiss me “on the lips” the next day in class. What follows is an interesting insight into the teenage brain. Instead of reminding this student how completely inappropriate this would be, other students of mine plotted ways he could execute this dastardly deed. Thankfully Kim, ever my unpaid mentor, reported this to the assistant principal who called the student down and explained the potential charges he would face if he went forward with the plan such as sexual harassment and sexual assault. Thankfully, those words dissuaded him.

After an uneventful class I decided to read the Twitter feed that was rife with inappropriate comments about my body. I sent a screen shot to Kelsey with the actual post and she texted back “Who is Lyman?” That is when true panic set in because Lyman was a football coach who had to leave Cottonwood two years prior for sleeping with a student. I asked Kelsey what prompted her random question and she showed me a response to the Twitter post that said this would be “another Lyman scandal.” PANIC. DISGUST. I am regurgitating. That is when I decided to start wearing a nun outfit. Not really. But maybe I should.