Chapter 4: The Freeze-Out

Bang—

Before he could finish, the conference room door slammed open with a crash.

Tyler Maddox barreled in, flanked by more than a dozen of my students, each one brandishing a chair leg like a baseball bat. They charged in, eyes blazing, and pointed straight at Hanley.

"You gotta be kidding me! Who do you think you are, talking to Mr. Foster like that?"

The sudden chaos sent a ripple of shock through the room. Teachers gasped, a couple of staff members instinctively ducked behind their chairs, and Hanley jumped to his feet, his face drained of color. I rushed over, heart pounding—Tyler was wild enough to do something stupid if I didn’t intervene.

"Tyler, put that down!"

Tyler glared at Hanley, then turned to me, voice trembling with anger. "Mr. Foster, this guy’s picking on you for no reason! Jasper, tell him what you heard!"

Standing beside him was Jasper Miller, better known as Jasper the Third. He took off his glasses, spit on the carpet in Hanley’s direction, and shook his head.

"Give me a break! Mr. Foster, it was him—I heard him in his office, on the phone with somebody. He said you were too high-profile, that you managed the problem class too well, and our parents all love you. He said this was his big chance, that anyone who takes over your class will get rich, but you don’t deserve it. So he’s trying to get rid of you and put in his own guy!"

I stared at Hanley, speechless. The other teachers let out resigned sighs, some shaking their heads.

But Hanley doubled down, playing the victim.

"Look at this! If students are bold enough to threaten the principal with sticks, what’s next—threatening their parents with knives? Mr. Foster, you’re out. And if you kids don’t clear out, I’m calling the police! Security! Get security in here! Call the cops!"

Hanley fumbled for his phone, barking orders. Tyler tossed his chair leg aside, sneering.

"Old man, I’m not gonna fight you with fists—I’ll fight you with money! Mr. Foster, I don’t go to my dad for street stuff, but today? If my dad doesn’t fix this, I’ll ground him myself!"

Tyler pulled out his phone, pacing back and forth, his face set in a stubborn glare. "Dad, they’re firing Mr. Foster—over nothing! Just because he stayed late to help me and used a little extra electricity. If Mr. Foster goes, I’m dropping out. I’ll just be another loser!"

Hanley’s face turned chalk white—he knew exactly what Tyler’s family could do. He tried to save face, but his voice shook.

"Mr. Maddox, your son’s teacher is being let go for not finishing his work during the day, not for helping him."

"If I say it is, then it is! Don’t talk to me—just wait for the call!"

Not even a minute later, Hanley’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his hands trembling as he answered.

"Hello, Mr. Whitaker, yes."

Charles Whitaker—chairman of the board, the man who really ran the school—was on the line.

"What’s going on? Mr. Maddox just called and said you’re firing his son’s teacher?"

"Chairman Whitaker, it’s just—our school—"

"Enough! Are you out of your mind? Didn’t you check the students’ backgrounds before you started? Mr. Maddox donated half the new gym because his son’s here—he’s basically on the board! This is a private school, Hanley. Get your priorities straight. If Mr. Maddox isn’t happy, you’re done. Find his son and fix this—now!"

Hanley’s face went from red to white in seconds. I’d never seen anyone look so desperate.

...

Tyler sidled over and whispered, "Mr. Foster, let me handle him. Tell him to kneel!"

He had that familiar spark in his eye—the one that meant trouble. Before I could say a word, Tyler turned and yelled at Hanley, his voice echoing off the walls.

Hanley looked like he’d just swallowed a bug.

"Are you gonna kneel or not? If you don’t, I’ll call my dad again and say you hit me!"

Hanley’s eyes darted to me, silently begging for help.

I just shrugged. After all the grief he’d caused me, I wasn’t about to bail him out now. I’d spent years protecting Tyler—if he wanted to stand up for me, who was I to stop him? Still, the whole thing made me a little uneasy. There’s a fine line between justice and going too far, and Tyler was always eager to cross it.

But it was clear I wasn’t winning any Teacher of the Year awards after this. I grabbed my bag and walked out. The other teachers quickly followed, grabbing their things and avoiding Hanley’s gaze.

Later, I heard from the janitor that Hanley really did kneel. Part of me felt vindicated; another part wondered just how far Tyler would go for me.

...

After school, Tyler had his family’s driver pick us up and take us to Madison Billiards, the old pool hall down by the strip mall. The place was lit by neon beer signs and the jukebox played a steady stream of classic rock—Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Eagles, you name it. The air was thick with the scent of greasy fries and stale cologne. After we’d settled in, I pulled Tyler aside and warned him not to pull stunts like that again. He was still a kid—he should focus on learning something useful. Tyler just grinned, eyes twinkling, and promised he’d behave, at least for a week. I let him win the first game, just this once.

The next day, I was back in my classroom, teaching like nothing had happened. But halfway through third period, the PA system crackled to life:

[Attention, staff and students. Please listen carefully to the following new school policies.]

[1. All overtime must be pre-approved by administration. Unauthorized overtime will result in a $200 deduction.]

[2. Students must be in class before the bell. Homeroom teachers are responsible; if not, a $100 deduction per incident.]

[3. All students must address teachers as 'Mr.' or 'Ms.' plus their last name. Any nicknames or other terms will result in a $100 deduction per incident.]

[4. Students caught smoking in restrooms during breaks—if due to lack of discipline, the homeroom teacher is fined $100 per incident.]

[5. Any teacher seen socializing with students after school will be fined $2,000 per incident.]

Every rule was clearly aimed at me—and my class.

Tyler muttered, "Son of a..." and slammed his fist on his desk. He started to stand, but I shot him a look. "Where do you think you’re going? Sit down."

"Seriously, Mr. Foster, he’s just coming after you! There’s no way you can pay all these fines."

The rest of the class grumbled, shooting me worried glances. Some rolled their eyes, others snickered, but most just looked uneasy. I shook my head, signaling them to stay out of it. This was my mess to handle.

Knock, knock—

Just as Tyler finished, Hanley appeared in the doorway. He rapped his knuckles on the frame, even though the door was already open, and pulled out his notebook, a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Mr. Foster, you just let students use nicknames. That’s a $100 fine—I’ll make a note of it. As a teacher, you should set a better example. Don’t act like some street boss—those days are over."

He sounded so self-satisfied, it made my skin crawl. "You want a piece of me, old man?" Tyler shouted, and half the class stood up, their chairs scraping loudly against the floor.

I quickly grabbed Tyler’s arm, pulling him back into his seat. "There are laws in this country, and rules in this school. If you break them, no one can help you."

Hanley’s smirk grew wider. "Glad to see you’re learning, Mr. Foster. Let me show you the fines you’ve racked up today."

He tore out a sheet and shoved it at me. Ten violations: three students late, two cases of improper address, five students caught smoking.

I scowled, holding up the paper. "These rules just came out—you can’t punish us for stuff that happened before."

"Nope. The rules were announced yesterday. You just left before I finished, so you missed the memo. Not my problem."

"Principal Hanley, didn’t other teachers leave too?"

"They left, but they all came back."

Tyler gritted his teeth. "Yeah, those teachers all came crawling back after I left—a bunch of chickens."

"Exactly. You heard him. I’ll let you off for leaving early, but now that the rules are out, you’re on the hook. Time to set an example."

Hanley patted my shoulder with mock sympathy, then turned to leave. But I stopped him and faced my students.

"What do you call him?"

"Bozo!" the class shouted in unison, voices echoing off the walls.

I nodded. "Principal, there are 45 students in this class—let’s round down to 40. At $100 each, that’s $4,000. Sound about right?"

Hanley’s eyes bulged. "That’s ridiculous—I’m not getting fined!"

"Not so fast. The rules say principals and teachers are only separated by rank, not by assessment. The bonus and fine system is the same. Want me to pull out the handbook?"

Hanley looked panicked. "You’re just exploiting a loophole!"

"Loophole? Fine, let’s make it official."

I turned to the class. "Who just called the principal ‘bozo’? Stand up."

The class monitor gave the order. "Start from the right!"

"1—Richard Hanley, bozo, I said it!"

"2—Richard Hanley, bozo, I said it!"

"3—Richard Hanley, bozo, I said it!"

...

"Principal, see? No tricks, and I even undercounted by five. So $4,000 plus $4,000 makes $8,000. Should I notify the finance office, or will you? Just let me know when you post the fine notice."

Hanley’s jaw worked, but no words came out.

"This... this rule has a huge loophole."

"Thinking of scrapping it? Remember, school policy says any new rule must be in effect for 15 days, or the issuer is responsible."

Hanley stood there, frozen, then finally tore up the record book and stormed out, humiliated.

The class erupted, some kids high-fiving, others just grinning. Tyler slung his arm around my shoulders, his cologne a mix of expensive and overdone. "Mr. Foster, I think I actually learned something today."

"That knowledge changes your fate, right?"

Tyler shook his head, still grinning. "Nope—it’s not that tough guys are scary, it’s that tough guys with class are downright terrifying."

"Get out of here!"

The room exploded in laughter, the tension finally breaking. For a second, it felt like we were all in this together.

I had everyone sit down and gave them a reminder:

"We might not be honor roll material, but that doesn’t make us bad people. The more you see of the world, the more you’ll realize there are smarter, more satisfying ways to handle things than violence. Got it?"

"Got it, Mr. Foster!" the class chorused, some rolling their eyes, others giving me genuine smiles.

After that, my fine notice never appeared, and the new rules faded into the background. Hanley kept his distance for a few days—just some dirty looks in the hallway, but he never pushed it again.

But just as I was getting ready for the usual Monday staff meeting, I was told I didn’t need to come. I figured maybe it was just canceled at the last minute.

When I got to the office, though, it was empty. Turns out, I was the only one not invited—Hanley was holding a private meeting behind my back.

When the meeting ended, I noticed several teachers from my office seemed to avoid me, only replying when I spoke first. We’d always gotten along, but now they acted like I had the plague. Hanley was trying to freeze me out, and everyone knew it.

That wasn’t the end of it. Soon after, our English teacher was publicly dismissed before the end of the school day, no explanation given.

Before leaving, the English teacher pulled me aside, voice low. "Hanley told everyone at the meeting you’re forming cliques and stirring up factions. No one dares talk to you now. I’m just the example to scare the rest. But I’ll fight him in arbitration!"

He left, and guilt hit me hard. I hated that others were getting caught in the crossfire. But there was no time to dwell on it.

Hanley’s next move landed on my desk: a transfer order. I was to take over the honors class—Class 1. As I stared at the paper, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this a promotion, or just the beginning of a whole new fight?