Mrs. Henderson calls to tell me
that her son says I don’t like him,
as if this one-person popularity poll is important.
She claims Trent had a nose bleed,
and I didn’t let him get up
to grab a Kleenex.
I tell her that’s hard to believe.
I didn’t see any blood, and he didn’t tell me
he was bleeding. Being this is the first week
of school, I’ve only known Trent for four hours.
I believe Trent is very intelligent,
but when he says I don’t like him,
it’s that I don’t care for his behavior.
He seems to think it’s fine to interrupt me
whenever he pleases by consistently blurting out
to gain attention from the class.
With 35 other students to attend to,
my focus is not always going to be on him.
A week later, Mrs. Henderson has complained
to the principal and the counselors
to change Trent’s schedule, so he can be
in an English class with his best friend, Seth.
I can still hear her voice,
“My son would never lie to me!”
And there it is. A parent stuck in the roadside ditch
of denial. She needs a tow truck to get her ego
back on the road. Her son played her
and she got him exactly what he wanted.
Crying that the teacher doesn’t like me
is the biggest cop out since,
“My dog ate my homework.”
