I was still buzzing from the excitement of last night's charity basketball game when my friend Felicia walked into my classroom this morning with a somber look on her face. "Have you been on Facebook?" she asked solemnly. I froze. "No," I replied, fearing the worst, "what happened?" She brought up my former friend, Shanna's hateful post that absolutely demonized me. My 4th graders were appalled. "Surely, this cannot be!" they howled, "Mrs. Mosiman is, unarguably, a convivial, constructive, and generous individual. Why...oh why would someone disparage our beloved teacher in such a manner?" We've really been working hard on building our vocabulary in Room 24. I'm glad that it shows.
As I often tend to do when faced with constructive criticism, I labored long and hard as I considered my own culpability in the situation. Was it possible that I was TOO helpful in offering Shanna advice as she gathered notes for the event that would eventually transform (God willing) into a somewhat lackluster but marginally accurate reporting of the basketball game; especially given Shanna's limited vocabulary and her over-reliance on one-syllable words? Perhaps my predilection for reporting actual FACTS intimidated her. The adult organizer of the event spoke words, racked with meaning, for the suddenly silent gymnasium. Panic-stricken, pen poised over her mostly empty paper (there was a corner missing that Shanna had used to wrap up her used gum), Shanna reached desperately back for me, seated behind her on the bleachers, comfortingly close. "How much did she say the event raised?" she whimpered, realizing that she was in WAY OVER HER HEAD but not having the guts or humility necessary to hand the reins over to a REAL reporter. I sighed, quelling the impulse to roll my eyes. Shanna was my friend. I needed to support her. "Over $6,000," I discreetly murmured so as not to draw the attention of others to Shanna's outright incompetence. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed Shanna to work outside her comfort zone. Spotting our co-worker Brenna's basketball-related black-eye, I encouraged my budding reporter...my protege, if you will...to snag an exclusive with the beleaguered player. But apparently Shanna was only interested in making unnecessary commentary about my dietary habits. And I'll have you know, I requested a flexi-straw for my Pepsi but they didn't have one in concessions. I can't help that I slurp...my lower incisors overlap the uppers. Way to make fun of the denti-capable, Shanna. Really sensitive to the plight of the under-bite, aren't you?
I have to admit, after hours of soul-searching and reflective prayer, I came away...flummoxed (Shanna, sweetie..that word means confused). I do not understand why Shanna would have released an unwarranted whirlwind of words at me...a loyal and trusted friend who has only ever wanted the best for her. In her...for lack of a better description...writing, Shanna conjured up a farcical (Shanna, darling...I know you're giggling immaturely right now as you sounded out that big word and it reminded you of fart-sicle. You know that you're better than that. The word, if you're truly intentional about becoming a RESPECTED writer, means absurd...oops, that probably didn't help you...it means ridiculous.) analogy comparing the two of us to animal hierarchies in the wild (Shanna, precious...feel free to look up hierarchy...I don't want to enable you by providing ALL the answers.). But as an evolved species, I refused to settle for a pack mentality. Humanity (cue stirring theme crescendo (Look it up, Shanna)), in all its wondrous complexities, wars within itself daily in its choice of cruelty and compassion. Instruct or inspire. Kick or care. While I was seeking to be the wind beneath Shanna's wings, she let loose a little wind of her own. And it stinks. It really does.
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Some of you, with the morbid fascination of being unable to look away from a car accident, may feel compelled to read Shanna's putrid post. With full-disclosure, I have graciously included it in my scholarly blog. Just be warned, it will turn your stomach. And not just because of her writing. The content is nauseating as well.
It was my first reporter stand off.
We faced each other, both with notepads in hand at the same event.
Me, being the kind hearted, sensitive soul attempted to acquiesce the event to the taller, more intimidating alpha female.
I wondered to myself why wasn’t this domineering, very tall woman out there as a staff member playing basketball to support this worthy cause?
Instead, she was obviously standing her ground as a more seasoned (and MUCH older) reporter ready to create magic with her words regarding Hoops for a Cause 🏀
Alas! Alpha stepped down and allowed her less intimidating and meek reporter counterpart to cover the thrilling Letchworth vs Warsaw staff basketball game.
As I sat perched at the edge of the bleacher, pen in hand ready to capture every moment of the game, Alpha starts in with:
“Did you catch that? You should really write that down. How about that? That’s a good point cover.”
I began madly scribbling everything and anything, hoping to prove myself to Alpha that I was a competent reporter. Trying to nod my head and pretend I was listening while also attempting to enjoy the game.
I was so grateful when Micah’s kindhearted teacher rescued me by pointing her finger at Alpha and exclaiming:
“Shanna, I have enjoyed the socks you gave me for Christmas! I was wondering...do you want to borrow one now to stuff in her mouth?”
Silenced by her wise seat mate, Alpha grunted and began chomping loudly on her chips and slurping her Pepsi while grumbling about how perfect Michelle Bergmann was in her bouncy pony tail and making every shot.
I was able to FINALLY ignore Alpha and concentrate on the amazing effort the Letchworth Leadership kids did on setting up this fun event.
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