A Man Can Dream
“Good morning everyone. Welcome to the morning meeting. I have a few things to go over.”
My mind starts to drift. I sip my coffee and look attentive as the CEO’s henchwoman snaps a picture of the semicircle of worn-down stumps of humans standing at attention.
“This week, the parents have a few concerns. We must work with them to create the best kindergarten possible for their children.”
She finishes this statement and immediately repeats herself in Mandarin for the staff who do not speak English.
Shhh, don’t tell the parents. We market the school as an immersive English environment even though the head saleswoman doesn’t speak English.
A testament to her sales ability.
I tune out the repeated Mandarin. As long as it’s not during the morning picture, I pick up my phone and wait for the next bit of English.
“Finally, I have one more thing to go over.”
I perk up, one last push, and it’s over.
Then, a few minutes of respite before another day of “No, you can’t glue your face to a chainsaw” or “Stop licking the electrical outlets.”
I force my eyes in place to avoid noticeable eye rolls.
“It’s about the children’s safety. We had another accident in school yesterday. We need to…”
“Fuck that!”
I shout reflexively.
Everyone gasps, and now all eyes are on me. The principal turns, and her eyes widen. I can almost see her heartbeat quicken.
“Every damn time a student gets hurt, you give us some bullshit lip service about paying more attention to them. That’s not the problem!”
Now, I am seething. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The few teachers who speak English know what I am saying, and the ones who don’t can tell the seriousness of my tone.
“These students are stressed out, and it’s your fault, not ours. These are three-year-olds, and they come to school at 8 a.m. They have a full schedule until 5:30 p.m. You push them to sign up for after-school programs. You force homework on them. Sure, you say it’s not homework, but their parents are afraid they will fall behind if they don’t make their kids keep up.”
The principal is now starting to get angry. She can see I am overstepping my authority. Her tenuous grasp of English is still sharp enough to understand that I am disrespectful and my tone is contemptuous.
I can see in my peripheral vision my fellow foreign teachers who care, nodding in agreement.
“They don’t even realize they are stressed. Do you want to know why? Because they are three years old! They don’t know what stress is. They bite each other and kick each other because they are tortured all day. That’s your doing, not ours. No amount of feckless lip service is going to change that. The fucking schedule is child torture. Shame on you.”
Everyone takes a step back. At this point, the CEO’s henchwoman has her camera out filming me. I am boiling.
“I quit.”
I smash my coffee cup on the ground and storm towards the front gate.
A Tooty Ta, A Tooty Ta, A Tooty Ta Ta
I shake my head and look around. Everyone has their elbows back, giving the thumbs up. They are bent over and wagging their butts in the air.
I am standing in my usual place. My coffee is in my hand.
Everyone is Laughing and dancing. The music on the loudspeaker is a familiar silly kids’ dance song.
A Tooty Ta, A Tooty Ta, A Tooty Ta Ta
I shake myself out of my daydream and walk to the coffee maker.
I could do it, I reassure myself.
I could tell the man, in this case, the woman off and leave.
A man can dream