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I’m not sure what I’ve got. But I know I’ve got his support. And that counts for a lot.
I step inside the classroom and see seven heads swivel toward me.
I try to take them all in at once, but at the same time they’re a blur, like I see nothing at all.
“Piper,” the principal, Georgia Hopkins, says to me. She gives me a shaky smile and gestures for me to sit down at the front beside her.
I am so nervous I might just pee my pants.
It’s hard to swallow, I feel like I’m almost choking, but I manage to walk across the room toward her without fainting or screaming.
Georgia has always been a great principal, beloved by both the kids and the staff, and I know from the apologetic look in her eyes that none of this was her idea. That puts me a little more at ease, knowing there is one more person here who has my back, even if the other person is waiting outside the door.
Georgia clears her throat and then looks to the unsmiling people sitting in the plastic chairs facing us. Maureen Portier, the chairwoman of the board, is the only person I recognize.
Then I’m introduced to Jerry Bluth, the vice chairman; Angela Kim, the union representative; Marty Howe, the secretary treasurer; Alexander LaCroix, who I’m told will be recording the meeting (and who I also know works for the newspaper); plus a trustee.
Barbara Mischky.
To be honest, I’ve never met the infamous senior Mischky in person, only seen her face posted many times in the paper’s editorials, but in person she looks more like Amy than I could have imagined. A face that could be pretty if it weren’t full of such spite.
And right now, all that spite is directed at me.
“Piper, I’m going to let Maureen speak since she is the one who called this meeting,” Georgia says to me. “Just so you know, this is all a formality of what we must do for every complaint. I know this is your first meeting with the board, but this isn’t a usual meeting and it’s a closed one. Alexander is only recording it for transparency’s sake.”
Maureen clears her throat. I’ve only met her a handful of times, and she’s a pretty stern lady with a pinched face and a close-cropped haircut, but she’s not particularly unkind, just tough.
“Ms. Evans,” Maureen begins, adjusting herself in her seat so she’s sitting up taller, folding her hands in her lap over her notebook. “Thank you for coming here on short notice. I want to reiterate what Georgia said. This is an investigation because it’s what we have to do when a complaint is lodged. We are here to tell you the complaint, why it matters, and then hear your side of the story. We are not judge, jury, and executioner, and the aim of this meeting is not over termination. It is merely a follow-through.”
That should make me feel a little bit better, but it doesn’t. I feel like a little kid up here, being judged and presided over anyway.
“Now, as was mentioned in the email, a trustee member came across several things that put your role as a schoolteacher here in question. I am going to read off the two things that we vowed to investigate. One is that pictures were published last Friday, between you and the bodyguard of the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax, whom we know are staying on the island. The photos taken were a breach of privacy on your behalf, and even if you were having an intimate moment with someone else, it is none of our business. However, the pictures were taken at Lake Maxwell, which has been sectioned off by the Island Committee and the Watershed District board. The lake is considered private property, and under BC law, you are subject to trespassing. So there is that.”
“May I speak?” I ask, raising my hand.
She nods primly. “Of course.”
“It doesn’t say private property on those signs, and how could it be considered private property if there are houses that share it? Are you suggesting that all those houses own the property along with the waterworks department?”
Yeah, I know I’m kind of wasting my time here on this point—there are so many conflicting theories floating around the island about why the lake is sectioned off, it would take all day to unravel them—but I want them to know that I’m not going to just sit back and take a dressing down. I’m right too. There is a fence, there is a notice of no swimming or ATVing due to it being a watershed, but there are no signs about it being private property. Maybe it’s a moot point, but I’m going to take it.
“Regardless,” Maureen says, “the signs specifically tell you to stay back, and going around the fence doesn’t avoid the issue. The point is, you are a schoolteacher of impressionable children, and to see you doing something like this reflects very badly on you and the school.”
