Life, Love, and Other Inequalities
Argentina Ryder
Argentina Ryder Books
Copyright © 2021 by Argentina Ryder
Life, Love, and Other Inequalities is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is coincidental and not intended by the author.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the author. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1. August
2. September
3. October
4. November
5. December
6. January
7. February
8. March
9. April
10. May
11. June
About Author
Thank you!
Also by Argentina
August
To: All_Staff_HaysMS
From: Curtis White
Date: August 14
Subject: First week of school agenda
Welcome back Hays Hawks to the new school year! Please plan to meet bright and early Monday August 21st at 8 am in the cafeteria. PTA is providing breakfast tacos and coffee. We will hold department meetings after the faculty meeting at the discretion of the department heads. There have been couple changes since we last met together as a group that you will notice when you return:
• Jon Levy has taken a position at Granger High School as their choir teacher.
• Gina Jimenez and her family have moved to California for family reasons.
We wish them well on their future adventures. We also wish to congratulate Dorothy Lopez on the birth of her daughter, Alexis. Mother and daughter are doing well, and we will see Mrs. Lopez back on campus later this fall.
Please review the attached draft for the required meetings and trainings for the rest of the week.
See you soon!
CW
———
Curtis White
Principal
Sarah Hays Middle School
Estella, Texas, population 32,000, sat conveniently east of San Antonio, west of Houston, and south of Austin. Residents had access to resources afforded the bigger cities when they required it, like medical care and higher education, but Estella still kept that small-town feel that its citizens enjoyed. It boasted an outdoor mall with a couple anchor stores, two grocery chains, and a retail shopping center with most of the big box stores represented. One high school, two middle schools, and a handful of elementary schools made up the school district. But for Matt Ruiz, the most exciting addition in recent memory was the twenty-four-hour gym that opened close to his house this past summer.
Matt arrived at the gym promptly at six. The franchise was owned by a teacher out of San Antonio who offered generous discounts to others in the profession, so he recognized several of the regulars from various district department trainings or from athletics. Matt jumped onto a treadmill and inserted his ear buds, adjusting the volume of his music to something that wouldn’t break his eardrums.
As he jogged he went over a quick rundown of his day: gym, quick shower, stop for coffee, be at school by 8 AM for the faculty meeting, then work in his classroom. His sack lunch was packed and ready (ham and cheese with pickles on white) but if history served him right, someone (Alicia probably) would suggest a group lunch at Gringo’s celebrating (or lamenting) their return to work. Matt would get the enchilada plate; it was always an excellent choice and usually the lunch special on Mondays. Home by five, work on a discussion post for his graduate class, check in on his grandparents, and get everything ready that he needed for Tuesday. In bed by eleven.
A busy day, but those were the best.
Looking up at himself in the mirror as he jogged, Matt couldn’t help but nod in approval at his reflection. Five foot eleven, not the tallest guy in the room, but fit and trim. Dark hair cropped short, dark eyes rimmed by thick black lashes, and a smile described as charming when he felt so inclined. “Que chulo,” his grandma would tell him, her hand on his cheek. How cute. She wouldn’t lie, right?
Two miles later, he sat down on the rowing machine, adjusted the tension and started his workout. His phone vibrated just as the rowing machine’s twenty-minute alarm chimed. It was Cora.
Heading to Starbucks what do you want
Bless that angel. Matt responded with his usual order and headed for the shower, checking the clock on his phone. 6:45am. Right on time.
Pulling into the parking lot of Hays Middle School an hour later, Matt recognized several familiar faces parking in alongside him, all the teachers returning to school after their time away. They waved at each other, friends and coworkers, everyone heading toward the cafeteria for their annual first week back faculty meeting. Matt slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked inside. Every few feet someone stopped him: Felipe Delgado (Spanish) asking Matt what he’d been up to over the summer break; Laverne Shelton (US History) pulling out her phone and showing pictures of her holiday at the Grand Canyon; Stella Day (Science) already complaining about complications with the schedule. Eventually Matt made it to the cafeteria, searching for the other math teachers and spotting them bunched up on the left side of the room. Once he found his table, Matt dropped his backpack and settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair across from his department head. “How long will she be gone?” Matt asked, straight to the point.
“And it’s delightful to see you too, Mr. Ruiz,” Deanna retorted, digging into her vibrant, oversized tote bag, the bright red shade nearly the same shade as her hair. She sighed, pulling out a yellow highlighter and a ballpoint pen. “I’m not sure. Last I heard, it was at least a month.”
“Shit,” Matt murmured. Starting off the year without a math teacher just set the kids up for trouble. Just as he opened his mouth to say that, a large paper coffee cup appeared in front of him. “Venti Americano with almond milk and two Stevias.”
Yes. “Gracias, Cora,” he said to the young woman who sat next to him, her dark skin set off by her bright smile and white shirt.
“De nada, Matt. Good morning, Mrs. Bush.” Cora gave her an approving nod. “Nice tan. You go to the coast this summer?”
“Welcome back, Cora.” Deanna gave a soft laugh, looking down at her arms. “Alas, just stayed home and took the kids to the neighborhood pool.” Tilting her head, she leaned in closer to Cora. “Any news from Dorothy?” Cora was the special education half of the seventh-grade collaborative team, and she and Dorothy had worked together for the past two years. The two women were close.
Cora Mann’s smile fell as she carefully took the lid off her coffee, blowing across the top. “I have, and it’s not good news.” Cora shook her head, looking at each of them. “November. That’s what I was told.”
Deanna and Matt’s faces both froze. “November?” Matt repeated. “But that’s-”
“Ten weeks.” Cora took a deep breath. “She says she can afford it. Any idea what they’ve got planned? Those are the collaborative classes with the special ed kids. We can’t get just anyone,” she added. “A long-term sub needs to teach, not just stand there and hand out worksheets.” She sighed, stirring her coffee. “I think my kids are sche
duled there the first half of the day.”
Before Deanna could respond, more teachers arrived and joined them at the table. The staff usually arranged themselves by department, the exception being the Gordons - Gregg (Reading) and Julie (Science), a married couple who invariably sat together up front, and the newbies who clung to each other at the back table after spending the previous week together at new teacher training.
The chatter grew louder as everybody said their hellos and welcome backs, enjoying their breakfast tacos and bad coffee. Matt spotted Rebecca Hogan, their vice principal, dimming the lights for their slide show presentation, and soon their administrative team all headed to the front of their cafetorium, debating on whether to use the microphone.
New year, same shit, Matt thought to himself as their principal formally greeted the staff. “Welcome back, Hays Hawks,” Curtis White called out to the smattering of sleepy applause. His dark brown goatee looked grayer this year, giving him even more of an intimidating look about him. “Yes, I realize it’s early, but I can speak for all of us up here that we’re glad to have you all back.”
Deanna was texting wildly on her phone. As head of the math department, Deanna Bush was responsible for making certain that Dorothy's sub was in place and ready to go next week. Department head was a thankless job, and while the consensus was that Matt was next in line if Deanna ever left, right now he thanked all the gods that he didn't have those worries this year.
As it was, he had too much on his plate already.
“Matt.” Alex Spencer (7th grade Math) was calling his name, waving a stack of papers in his hand. Matt reached out and grabbed the handouts, taking one and passing the others down. This was the important info: last year’s test scores, various extracurricular duties, and most important- lunch times. Pulling out his highlighter from his own backpack, he began noting anywhere he saw his name and marking it bright yellow.
“We don't eat together this year.” Cora’s face fell as she looked through the handouts. “I’m at eleven, and you’re at eleven-thirty.”
“It was good while it lasted,” Matt replied, reading over the after school duty assignments. “But you’ll find another sucker to borrow change from for the soda machine.” He feigned pain when she punched his arm.
He continued looking through his forms, moving ahead of the official presentation. Test scores were good last year; his classes did excellent. His after-school duty assignment was… bus loop. Shit, he thought as he highlighted his name and turned the page, the meeting droning on.
The morning progressed the same as it had the last five years that Matt had taught here at this school. He remembered that day when he first arrived at Sarah Hays Middle School and sat at the newbie table. Teachers came and left, table positions changed, but the information the administrators presented seemed the same every year. The principal introduced new staff, the vice principal talked about the mission statement, and the assistant principal pushed the PTA T-shirt sales.
Matt’s phone vibrated. Half-past nine and the group chat was already discussing lunch ideas. He was about to answer when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he blinked, surprised to see their principal, who had left the others at the front and wandered over to their table. "Matt, come talk to me when you have a minute, after the meeting’s over."
“Yes sir.” Matt watched as Curtis headed back to the front of the room to dismiss everyone from the morning meeting. Curious. He glanced over at Deanna. "You know what that's about?" he asked, worried as he gathered his scattered papers.
She shook her head. "No idea. Go talk to him and come by my room when you're done if you need to vent." To the table, she called out, "Math department, my room at two this afternoon. Bring your calendars."
“Good morning, Rosa.”
“Hey there, Matt. How was your summer?” Rosa Mendez, the principal’s secretary, always wore vivid colors and today was no exception. Her bright yellow dress brightened up the otherwise stoic front office at the school.
“It was good, ma’am. Curtis said to come by and chat with him. Is he in there?” Matt pointed down the hall.
“Yes, he mentioned he was expecting you.” She gestured toward his office. “I think he’s alone right now, you’d better hurry before someone else jumps in there. Busy day, you know.”
“Mr. Ruiz. Glad to have you back.”
Matt stepped into Curtis White’s office, Dallas Cowboys memorabilia hanging alongside framed diplomas from TCU (Bachelors of Arts in Sociology) and UTSA (Masters in Education). “Hello, Mr. White.” Matt closed the door behind him and took the seat across from the principal’s desk, folding his hands in front of him, feeling a little like a chastened student. “I hope you had a pleasant summer.”
“Likewise,” Curtis replied. “I got your email over the summer about your graduate school classes. Tell me what that's about.”
Matt smiled broadly, proud of this undertaking. “I’m working toward a Masters degree in Educational Leadership. They present most of the classes online, but I might have to run into town for tests and meetings with the professors.”
“Outstanding.” Curtis replied with his own matching smile. “What are your end plans? What is the target we’re going for?”
“District leadership.” Matt answered without a hesitation. “I enjoy the classroom, but I think I can make a difference in a district position. Ultimately, I want to be superintendent one day. Maybe not this district,” he smiled, “but somewhere.”
Curtis raised an eyebrow. “That doesn't surprise me at all. You'll be great at that, and with your work ethic, I have no doubt you’ll succeed. Just let me know what we can do to help you out, if you need to shadow any of us for the day, or just pick our brains for an assignment.”
Matt grinned, thankful for the encouragement. “I appreciate that,” he said to the older man. “I understand that it’s a lot, taking on this master’s degree program along with the Algebra class and helping with the athletics department.” The year hadn’t started, but Matt could anticipate all that needed to be done. “But I'm ready for the challenge, and I don't expect things getting easier next year, so I thought, what am I waiting for?” According to Matt’s master plan (and the accompanying spreadsheet) for his career, he was right on time.
Curtis White’s face fell somewhat. “That makes this much harder to ask. I have a special project for you, for a few weeks. You’re aware that Dorothy’s out for a couple months?”
Shit. Matt took a deep breath, bracing his features. “First week of November, that’s what I was told.”
“Sounds about right.” Glancing down at his desk, Curtis picked up a yellow Post-It note with some scribbling on it. “I’d like you to help out with our long-term substitute. Show him the lay of the land, help with the lesson plans and all that. His name’s-” Curtis looked down at the paper - “Sawyer Evans.” He passed the note to Matt, who reached out and accepted it. “He’ll attend all department and grade level meetings, so he should pick up the curriculum pretty quick.”
“Certified?” Matt asked hopefully.
“No, but a college graduate. Pretty sure.” Curtis wrinkled in thought. “I’ll check on that for you.”
Shit. Matt drew a deep breath. “Curtis-”
But Curtis didn’t let him finish. “I understand. This isn’t an ideal situation for anyone. But Ms. Mann will work in the classroom with Mr. Evans for four periods throughout the day, and while her priority is helping the special ed students, we’re hoping that she helps guide him along as far as classroom management and pedagogy goes. Show him how to work with the kids, especially the ones in the program. But he needs someone from math assisting him with the curriculum. Deanna’s got a lot on her plate this year too, so we’re hoping you can do this for us.” Curtis gave him a hopeful smile. “He’ll be here first thing tomorrow. I think he’s stuck in HR hell today.”
“When you put it like that.” Matt nodded his head but cursed to himself inside. “I’ll find him tomorrow
morning.” This was the absolute last thing he needed right now, a babysitting assignment for a newbie. But another voice in his head reminded him it never hurt to do a favor for the principal; someone who could give him a solid recommendation when it was his turn to work as an administrator.
Well, that was that. Curtis nodded at him, letting him know the meeting was over. Matt stood, scratching his hair and grinning as he changed the subject. “I talked to Paul last night. He thinks the 8th grade team might go undefeated in district this year.” Their smaller district often played some of the bigger schools from San Antonio, schools with more money and support, but of late they’d been holding their own.
“That group of boys had a hell of a year last fall. It’s not inconceivable.” Curtis stood, extending his hand. “Thanks again, Matt. Keep me in the loop with how he’s doing, if you all need more help from us in any way.”
After saying goodbye to Rosa, Matt left the front office and headed down the hallway toward the gymnasium, his fingers lightly tapping the lockers hanging on the walls as he walked. In a week the kids would swell the hallways, grades six through eight. Matt had hesitated at first when offered the job teaching math at Hays Middle School, five years ago now. Teaching had never been his dream, but once that decision was made, changing his major from engineering to education, Matt assumed he’d work at the high school, teaching higher math, inspiring the minds of aspiring engineers and scientists.
But it was the middle school that had a job opening, and five years later here he was. Time had flown by and a wry smile crossed Matt’s face as he thought about his students. Excitable, malleable, silly. It wasn’t awful, he admitted to himself. And it wasn’t forever. Matt had a timeline and so far, everything was right on track.
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