Teach me How (Baldi x Principal)

Chapter 7 - Worry

Yesterday, I was thinking about the stuff that's been going on recently, and I came to the conclusion that I'm overly attached to those who are close to me. I acted nonsensically for a grown man, and I should calmly act like the responsible adult I am instead of panicking blindly.

I sit at my desk reviewing today's math practice sheets. When I feel even the slightest tinge of apprehension, I push it out of my head and clear my thoughts. I'm in control. Not my worries.

My morning class spills into the room quickly, and as I feared, they too seem to be ignoring me. A few unmotivated greetings are all I receive. It's as if the whole class fell into some sort of depression that I was the root of. I scrunch up my brows at the thought.

Either way, I have a job to do.

"Okay everyone, open up your notebooks," I say while walking in front of the board with my ruler. "Today you'll be doing some simple practice sheets."

Usually, my classes respond to tests, practice sheets and the likes with some satirical groans and sarcastic enthusiasm. But this time, nothing,

"Nothing? No reaction? Man, you guys are acting weird."

A few students shoot glances at each other, widening their eyes angrily towards one another. I pretend to not notice as I walk to collect the sheets from my desk.

"Yeah, Mr. Baldi, that test next week must be putting us all on edge," says a student.

The comment catches me off guard. I look over my shoulder and laugh a little.

"You kids have nothing to worry about," I answer, "I'm sure you'll all do just fine. Now, for this sheet, you have the right to consult your notes at any given time. You can work in partners or however you like. Today's all about studying and testing our skills."

I pass a few sheets to each desk at the front of the class for them to distribute backward.

I allow a sliver of relief to deluge my senses. Someone actually spoke. That's an improvement.

Or, it seemed to be an improvement until I remember my analogy of the students' behavior, and how it seemed like they were trying to act normal. It seems very fitting right now.

I glance up and meet the gaze of Kenneth. He's leaning on the door frame behind all of the students. I'm surprised to see him, and I walk back towards my desk keeping my gaze on him. I think he's observing.

He gives me a warm smile, turns, and walks away. I guess he was just checking up on me. The thought makes me feel at ease.

My morning class goes fine. The chatter was definitely toned down a bit, but at least it didn't seem like everyone was a walking corpse.

I collect the practice sheets at the end of class, and grade them during the break that I have until my second class arrives. I hear a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Hey Baldo, how's it going?" says Kenneth with a laugh. There's a hint of uneasiness in it.

"Not bad. Hear anything from the other teachers yet?" I ask.

I catch a fleeting stiffening of his expression, but he quickly forces a weak smile and looks down at the floor.

"Actually, that's what I came here to talk to you about. Well... not really talk to you about. I, uh, I just came to let you know that I need you to come see me in my office after your final class."

"You seem troubled," I comment.

I can't quite read his expression. Kenneth keeps averting my gaze. Something isn't right.

"I am." With that, he turns and walks out of the class once again – this time hanging his head.

I feel malaise coursing through me. Something is definitely wrong. He heard something bad. Very bad.

Me having to go to his office gives that instinctive feeling that I'm going to be in some sort of trouble. I let my thoughts elaborate on this further. Kenneth had been coming to my class to eat lunch and talk for the past few days, when usually it should be either the other way around or in the teacher's lounge. Now I'm going to his office.

I catch myself before I worry too much. Deep breaths. It could just be a problem between students.

I then think about the looks that the kids shot each other in class; the pursed lips, the silent interactions.

No, no, no worrying!

Kenneth will sort things out.

Kenneth.

Kenneth...

My stiffness melts into weakness, the difference being like a giant tree trunk to a flimsy piece of bark. I rest my face in my palms and sigh. This is so confusing.

After some time, the next class enters. Same thing as the last one. More talk, more acting normal.

I eat lunch alone. Kenneth isn't in the teacher's lounge. He's not in my class either.

It's funny how far downward my mental health has spiralled since yesterday.

I feel sick to my stomach as I realize that I haven't seen my afternoon students in this weird state yet.

When I only see a few kids acting odd during my final class, it relieves me a bit.

But the relief is only temporary. It's kind of like drowning. One second, you're above the waves, mouth open for air. Then yet another wave sweeps over and pushes you back under unforgivingly, filling your lungs with water. You push yourself towards the surface and the cycle repeats until you're too tired to keep fighting. Then you sink.

It sends shivers down my spine.

My students exit the class, and normally I'd have the rest of the day to finish up any work I have, but I need to go visit Kenneth. And I'm assuming it's not for a friendly talk.

I stand up from my desk and push my chair in. I make my way to the door but stop when I notice something in the trash. A crumpled-up piece of paper. I remember a group of students from my second class passing around a sheet of paper and giggling, then throwing it into the trash on their way out. Curiosity peaked, I bend down and retrieve the wrinkled ball and uncrumple it.

There's a drawing on the paper. I can't figure out what it is yet because of the creases and wrinkles. So, I try smoothing it out, and I can vaguely make out the shape of a person with some writing next to it. I flatten the paper further. Bingo.

It's a caricature of a man, wearing a rather stern expression with his mouth open. He has a dark grey sweater and is disappointedly waving a finger. The words 'No running in the halls!' are written next to him. But, what's most unsettling is that his eyes are completely dark. Like a void. Just blacked out.

My heart sinks as I realize who this drawing is of.

It's of Kenneth.

I stare at this cruel depiction of my best friend in abhorrence. And with a tinge of hurt. I don't know what to do with it. I want to burn it. I want the kids who laughed at it to, I don't know, fail the math test or something.

Should I tell Kenneth? I probably will sooner or later. I'll keep it just in case, I guess, but I really don't like being in possession of it.

I place the paper in one of my desk drawers and head to Kenneth's office, trying to forget about what I just found.

I finally reach his door and take a deep breath. I can do this. It's going to be okay.

I extend my hand for the doorknob.

My chest and stomach feel like they're in knots as I realize that I'm probably about to get my ass handed to me by my own best friend.

But this isn't a time where Kenneth is my best friend.

This is a time where he's my superior.

Not a friend.

A principal.