Everybody Say “Hey, Ms. Carter”

            As I walk down the empty hallway, my heels click like time keepers echoing in the emptiness of the cavernous hallways. The wooden floors scrunch underneath the weight of my body, so old that they seem to buckle under the pressure. As I click on the florescent lights, a hum encompasses the room, the buzzing of little bees awakening, acknowledging the earliness of the hour and the beginning of a new day. I plop down in the roller chair, which whines as a turn in circles. What is my plan for the day? A prayer escapes my lips, whispered low on my breath. I ask for his presence in my life today. I ask for his protection. I ask him to bridle my tongue, and please Lord, keep me from wanting to choke someone’s child today, including my own.  As soon as I formulate a course of action, I arise and head to the whiteboard. On the blank canvas, I begin to write with dry erase markers that squeak as my ideas come alive right before my eyes. The odor of the markers, bitter when mixed with my morning coffee, acts as a stimulant bringer me ever closer to being fully awake. I step back, proud of what I have already accomplished today. The silence is golden.

And then, I hear it. The thundering herd of little people as they rush the hall towards the cafeteria, eager for today’s cold Golden Grahams and expired milk. I hang my head in despair, my quiet reverie all but evaporated in the sudden child-filled storm. The flutter of pre-pubescent girls cramming into the bathroom floats across the hall to my doorway, shrieking giggles and twittering hearts. I hear the low murmur of the boys sulking behind, deceptive in the lack of volume attempting to conceal the inappropriate conversations about said girls in the bathroom.  I hide behind my desk, hoping, wishing that no one will see the light I just extinguished behind more door. I find I am not quick enough, when inevitably, my door opens. Standing there are at least four girls, all smiley-faced and excited. And I prepare myself for the familiar refrain: “Everybody say, Hey Ms. Carter.” “Hey Ms. Carter.” They fall over themselves, their merriment reverberating down the hall. There was a time when I loved to hear those words, imaging it created a connection between their originator, a diva, and myself, a school teacher. Now when the children say it, I do my best to refrain from rolling my eyes. It sounds so much better when Beyoncé says it. And my day has officially begun.