Conferences have begun. For my school district, this means the middle and high school teachers line the edges of the gym, all at white, fold-out desks with two white, fold-out chairs facing us. It’s a drab, depressing scene. We wait for hours during the week, all trying to busy ourselves between the parents. Of my 40 students, I may speak with 5 families over the week. There are only two unique aspects of each desk during conference week; the names taped to the side and the rolling chairs each teacher brings from their classroom.
The name on my desk is spelled wrong. For some reason, they’ve switched the ‘E’ and the ‘I’ around at the end and while this may not be the end of the world, it is an annoying mistake at a school. Another issue is that my classroom is located far away and would make for an overly difficult trip with my rolling chair. Because of this, the women who work in the office kindly allowed me to grab a chair from the conference room.
I was presented with a choice of three chairs. The first chair did not roll or adjust in any way, nor did the cushions on any of them look particularly healthy anymore. In fact, they were in various states of disrepair, appearing to have been purchased over 30 years ago. The second was your average rolling chair. It appeared to have serviced many butts over the years, though not as old as the first chair, and the cushions were still in fair condition. It was an unassuming chair that would do just fine. I nearly took that one before considering the chair at the head of the table.
It was the only one in the room and very obviously where the Principal would sit during meetings. It was a beautiful chair. Its cushions were plump and colored a rich black. There were no obvious wear and tear marks on it yet and the back support and height adjusted. It was a big, comfy chair.
I thought about how long I would be sitting in that stuffy, loud gym and my butt begin to ache. I took the big chair. The Principal won’t be needing it while we are in conferences because he doesn’t have a desk in the gym and could just grab the chair out of his office right next door. I deserve to be comfortable while I’m taking time out of my day in order to sit around waiting for parents who will never come.
I think any Satanist would pick the big, comfy chair. It suits us to be comfortable.