“DISRUPTION”

She was transferred into my 8th period class a few weeks into the year. She arrived late, constantly asked to go to the bathroom and would disappear for 20 minutes; did no work. By the end of October, her grade was an 11.

But none of that was particularly unusual: most of my students did nothing; many continually asked to go to the bathroom; a handful perpetually arrived late. But I sensed that Kara would be trouble in other ways.

One day, the class was especially raucous. Kara talked loudly in the back. I decided to make students change seats. The first two groaned but complied. I then ordered Kara to move. She refused. I told her again. She did, but made a production out of it; and, afterwards, wouldn’t stop talking. I told her to be quiet. I told her again. She ignored me. I said that that was the last warning. I then ordered her to go to the office.

She made a production out of this, too; but, finally, she left, making comments the entire time, slamming the door after her. A few moments later, someone, somewhere screamed. My students seemed fascinated, terrified. I told them to keep working. But a little later, one of them received a text: Kara had fallen down the stairs.

Her death was confirmed the next day. The principal made a solemn announcement over the PA during homeroom.

2

In 8th period, a few students looked distraught—mostly girls. One of them, Jessica, said, Isn’t it terrible, to which I said, Yes. A moment passed. Jessica then said, Do you really think so? Of course, I said. It’s tragic. But we have to continue; life goes on. Jessica and some other girls looked at me with, possibly, hatred. The other students regarded me indifferently.

But after a few days, our class was mostly back to normal.

S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, and Elm Leaves Journal, among other places. His short story collection, The English Teacher, is forthcoming from Cerasus Poetry, and his website is sfwrightwriter.com.