I was still a probationary teacher when I was assigned to teach the Cooperative Office Education (COE) program.  It was only for seniors, and, to be selected, they had to apply and be interviewed. This vocational block allowed students to attend school in the morning and earn credit hours for working in the afternoon.  The successful applicants signed a contract, as did their parents, the school principal, their employer, and me. It was an amazing opportunity for them–and for me. What could possibly go wrong?

There was a clause in the contract that specified they could not quit their jobs without my approval. And, if there was a problem, they were to contact me immediately. Not doing so, would lead to expulsion from the program. It was clearly spelled out. And I reminded them on the first day of class. Again, I say, “What could possibly go wrong?”

It seems high school seniors don’t necessarily adhere to contractual obligations. I had called a student’s employer to check on her progress and was informed she had quit—weeks ago. Perhaps it was with good reason, and we could have resolved the issue together. Unfortunately, she chose to keep it secret and was thus dropped from the program.

What happened next, was nothing short of an uprising from her incensed classmates. I had a room full of hostile, unresponsive, mean-spirited teenage girls. And this uprising didn’t blow over in a day or two–it lasted the rest of the school year. It seemed every day they did something to convey their anger and “hatred.”

As part of their class experience, we not only refined office skills, but we also read and discussed Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People. It had been a game-changer for me, and I was passionate about sharing it with them. One morning I walked into my classroom and was greeted by a huge note on the blackboard, “Practice what you preach, Teach.” And something to the effect of “We hate your little book. Take it and go back to your sophisticated world, and leave us alone.”

I was a wreck every morning, knowing I had to face the Mean Girls, wondering what they had planned. Sometimes breakfast was a Screwdriver (vodka and orange juice) to take the edge off the overwhelming anxiety. It’s only by the grace of God, I didn’t develop a lasting dependency.

At the advice of an experienced teacher-friend, I scheduled conferences with every girl individually. I let them air their grievances, and it did defuse some of the anger, but there was still Cold War. It was just not going to end well, and it became about surviving until June. The following year, I left the program and asked to return to teaching individual classes.

I thank God for giving me the desire to persevere in education, however. I went on to teach at a University, retired after thirty years, and then, after retirement, taught music to preschoolers. It’s been a rich and satisfying career. Nothing like the Mean Girl Class ever happened again. Did I make mistakes in my early years of teaching? Absolutely. Would I handle some things differently now? Most certainly. But it was “baptism by fire,” and, I chalked it up to experience.

Forty-some years later, I received a message on social media from a “Janet” asking if I was the same “Lorraine” who taught at Start High School. She explained she had been in my COE class in 1973 and had never stopped thinking about me. She wondered if I kept on teaching and if I was okay. Yes, there were a few ”sweet girls” in the Mean Girl class, and she was one of them. Ironically, Jan is now a mental health professional.

We began messaging back and forth and became fast friends. We discovered we shared a deep faith in God.  And, she provided details about the class I never knew.  Apparently, the two ring leaders had drafted a petition to have me fired. They were tough girls, and Jan felt pressured to sign. But she stood firm and refused. She also went to see the principal to plead with him not to act on that petition. What a remarkable teenager! Thankfully, nothing ever came of it. Even given my rookie mistakes and sometimes poor judgment, there had been nothing to justify dismissal.

Most teenagers will “cave in” to gain acceptance from their peers. Jan didn’t. And now I have a friend for life. But, wait, there’s more…

A few years after that reconnection with Jan, I traveled back to my hometown for my fiftieth high school reunion. I was having a blast reminiscing with my former Spanish class buddy, “Senor Kowalski.” We were laughing just as hard at our antics as we did at age 16. When there was a lull, the woman he was with approached me and asked me if I had taught at Start High School.

“My name is Candy, she said, “and I was in your cooperative office education class.”

Candy was arguably the Ringleader of it all. What are the odds that she would have married a classmate of mine and that we would both be attending the 50th reunion? Slim to none. I knew this had been Divinely orchestrated.

“I just wanted to apologize,” she humbly stated. “I have felt guilty and ashamed all these years for what we did to you.”

She did not have to do that. I would never have known who she was. What courage it must have taken for her to speak to me. I told her how touched I was and how much her words meant to be. We shared a hug, but I’ve not seen nor heard from her since. I would have loved it if—like Jan–we had developed a friendship. But it was just a moment in time–but one I’ll cherish always.

Recently, I was visiting my home town again. While I was there, Jan and I met for dinner.  It was exactly fifty years since we’d seen each other, but it seemed like we had always been friends. She reminded me that she was let go from her first COE job, but she told me about it right away. What happened was clearly not her fault, and her new placement led her to meet to the “boy” who would later become the love her life and the father of her two children. Unapologetically, I say again, “What are the odds?”

As the years passed, I rarely thought about the Mean Girls, but clearly God wasn’t finished. That circle is now complete. And, after fifty years, there is newness and healing.