I looked out of the porch and saw the furious rains battering the rooftops and causing instantaneous floods on the street.
I immediately texted my daughter Minka and advised her to wait up for me as I’ll be picking her up from the school. Minka is already l5 and the school is just a quick 5-minute walk from our place but the mom in me wanted to see her safe and hopefully dry. No response.
A few more minutes and Minka was at the doorstep, drenched and dripping. Before I could even finish my sentence for her to take a quick shower and change into dry clothes, Minka broke down. She was inconsolable. The last time she cried like that was when her best friend of many years flew back to the US and they missed the chance of seeing each other one last time.
“They kicked me out as president of the English Club,” she said in between sobs.
Leadership in the English Club meant a lot to her. During the previous summer vacation, she spent a whole lot of time thinking of projects for the club– storytelling sessions for poor kids, outreach programs and other activities that would make the club shine.
Sitting her on the couch, I pressed for details. Minka revealed details of the English Club session that Friday afternoon. How the club moderator bashed her in front of the 40 plus members, how he practically humiliated her in front of the group and how he unceremoniously ejected her as president. This, despite the fact that their club has just won 2nd place in a recent competition besting l8 other clubs.
I must confess, anger consumed my whole being that very moment. I checked out her teacher’s FB site and wanted to leave a scathing message on his wall. Everyone stopped me and I prayed for calm.
Still, I was furious. Nobody treats my children that way. Especially, a teacher who is supposed to be my child’s “parent” in school.
I knew that there was an upcoming parent-teacher seminar that coming Sunday. And automatically, I thought: : “There’s my chance at revenge. I am going to give that teacher a dose of his own medicine. I will embarrass him in front of the faculty and the parents. I will be ruthless. ” I even practiced my mad lines in front of the mirror.
Sunday came and I was at the school early, swung from one classroom to another (Meira’s Grade 5 classroom and Minka’s 4th year classroom) and while at the general assembly, scanned the entire area in search of this “monster teacher.”
He wasn’t there. My next best option, inform Minka’s adviser on what happened but would insist on a meetup (wage a war would be more like it) with the “monster teacher.”
Minka’s adviser is a mild-mannered, soft-spoken teacher who decided it would be best for me to talk to the Assistant Principal. So talk we did. At that point, I was told that the “monster teacher” had already left. So there goes my chance at my planned moment of revenge. I was even more infuriated but settled for the next best thing: a meeting with the “monster teacher” together with my daughter’s adviser and the assistant principal as witnesses scheduled on mid-week.
Wednesday came and while on my way to the school for the big confrontation, I realized I’ve lost sleep, lost my appetite, harbored angry thoughts. I was so full of negative vibes. That’s when I decided to pray intently.
“Lord, I’m sorry that I have allowed anger to consume my whole being. Wrap me with your peace. Teach me what to say and what to do during that meeting. Let not anger reign in this discussion. Allow me to express my displeasure to this teacher in the most diplomatic way possible. And make him realize his mistake, too.”
Inside the Assistant Principal’s office, I cited my complaints I’ve written down in my red book. The meeting took three hours and contrary to what I was expecting, the meeting went well. The teacher acknowledged his mistake and by the end of the meeting promised to make a public apology to Minka in their next club meeting.
That was enough for me. God answered my prayer by replacing the anger in my heart with joy brought about by the peaceful resolution to the problem that only He could provide.