Reason 156

     He sat staring at the broken drum. 

    He knew there was no money to replace it.

    He knew he didn't want to be here any more. 

    What he did not know is which student broke the drum.

    He was the fifth band teacher in three years, one of whom--his friend William- didn't even make it to the end of the first quarter. To be fair, Will had quit during Covid, so that one didn't count in his mind. Will was s a fellow jazz musician that Li had worked with in college. He had quit over administrative issues. Since William had been teaching online, he was unaware of what the student population actually was. 

    Now, at 27 and in his second building, Li should have known better than to apply under those circumstances. He just wanted out of where he was, thinking nothing could be worse. He had blindly applied to every open position. Nothing could be worse than the hell he had endured for the last two  years.

    He had been wrong.

    William had come into conflict with district policies on grading, which he found to be insulting and racist. He had no issues with the building admin, or with the students he was teaching online.

        Li knew immediately that the kids showing up to class online were not going to be the majority he would encounter in person. The live majority were talkative, restless, addicted to their phones and relentlessly rude to teachers. He thought he could handle it, then the Tik Tok "Hot Lick"challenge destroyed their small bathroom and flooded the hallway. 

          But he came back the next day.

         Then his car was vandalized.

          He came back the next day.

          Kids used racial slurs in every exchange with him. 

          He kept coming back.

          He stared at the drum. It was worth more than a month's salary, and they had simply beaten it to death. What he couldn't figure out, was how this happened? He had been in the room all day. At what point did they snap the struts on this thing? How did they kill both the resonant heads and top heads, as well as punch a hole right through the center without him seeing or hearing the attack?

            He sat looking at the destroyed instrument, trying to convince himself that he had somehow left the room unattended. Maybe he had forgotten to lock the door? But his office was off of the band room, he would have heard it. 

            He sighed, a tear slipped from his eye as he gently bundled the drum up and left it silently in his office. He scribbled a few words on a peach sticky note, picked up his trumpet and left the office. As he locked it behind him, he placed the sticky note on the door.

            It read simply "Reason #156".

            He sobbed as he drove home, feeling like he had been beaten in a boxing match. When he got home, he went to bed.