Steven Easton

The iPod

Thursday, May 2

Four weeks from today, we're officially done with school. Teachers are counting down just as much as their students. We want to go on summer break, too. It's not that we hate our job--though, I question why some people chose teaching as their profession--it's just that we like having time off, too. Not to mention I'm getting married in the middle of June, and then we're going to go on a cruise to Alaska for our honeymoon. I'm ready for a vacation because I haven't been on a real vacation in awhile, and I need one now with my new wife.

When I got home from work today, I was exhausted because I didn't get to sleep until late last night because I promised my students that I would have their research papers graded by today, and I didn't get chance to do my last hour's papers until after church last night. I'm the type of teacher that believes in pushing my students to do work that will prepare them for high school. That also means that I'm super against busy work, so when I do assign things, I expect them to be done well. I'm a hard grader, but I give a lot of feedback because I want them to be able to improve, which also means if they take the time to fix their work, I honor that and fix their grade. If they need help, I'm more than happy to work with them, as well.

When I got home, Ava was in her room, sitting on the floor, leaning against her bed. Last year, she always went to our neighbor's house after school, but their daughter, Kimberly is now in middle school, and doesn't get home until around the time I get done with school anyway. I trust Ava to stay home alone after school because she did it for a little bit after school in Alabama. 

"How was your day?" I asked her. 

"Fine." She wasn't doing anything, but she didn't look sad. Something was up.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, coming closer.

Her legs were laid out as she rested, laying her hands, palm down. "Nothing."

I knelt down, watching her hands. "Ava," I said, "what are you doing?" 

"Nothing." She didn't meet my eyes. 

"Stand up," I told her.

"I'm comfortable though."

"Stand up, please." 

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to."

Placing her hand underneath her hamstring, I could tell she was holding something behind her as she stood up. 

"Hand it over." I put my hand out, having no clue what she had.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she handed me a red iPod Touch.

Knowing I didn't have an iPod Touch of my own anymore, I shook my head slightly. "Why do you have this?"

Shrugging, she looked down. 

I turned it on, seeing a Snapchat notification. "Oh, so Stephanie Russell is Snapping you? Okay, well. You knew the rules about social media, you lied to me, and this isn't even your iPod." I slid to unlock it. "What's the passcode?" 

"I don't know."

"That's a lie. Tell me your passcode," I said sternly.

"Pink," she said sheepishly.

Typing in the numbers for P-I-N-K, I realized she also had Instagram on there, too, with a few games. "Who's iPod is this?"

"Paisley's brother."

Paisley is her best friend in her class this year. "Why do you have Paisley's brother's iPod?"

"Her brother didn't want the iPod anymore, and I asked if I could have it, and he said sure."

"How old's her brother again?"

"Like, 14." 

"Okay. Did he already have Instagram and Snapchat on it?"

"Yeah." She sat down on her bed, dangling her feet.

Clicking on Instagram, I saw that she had three posts, containing of a selfie, a friendship bracelet she had made, and her pink sparkly finger nails. Her pink sparkly finger nails was posted on April 30th. She has 29 followers, but is following over 100. 

"Why didn't you ask for permission?"

Shrugging, she buried her face in her hands, about to cry.

"Hey, don't cry. It's not going to undo this." Even though I was stern, I made sure to avoid sounding mad. "I want to know why you chose to do this without telling me."

I waited until she moped, "I knew you would say no."

"Why did you think I would say no?" 

Shrugging, she refused to look at me, but again, I waited. "Because you don't want me to post things because I don't always know who's going to see it, but on Snapchat, I only talk to people I know--I swear."

"What about Instagram? Do you know everyone on there?"

"I don't know." 

"How did you make the accounts? Don't you need an email?"

"My school email."

I sighed. "Well, here's the deal: you lied to me about something you knew you weren't supposed to do, so I am going to have to ground you from your phone and obviously this iPod isn't going back to you because I'm guessing the only reason why you wanted it was so I wouldn't know about you being on social media. Am I right?"

"But how do I talk to my friends?" Her chin quivered. 

"When you see them face-to-face."

"What if I need something?" 

"I'm sure I can find you a flip phone that calls 9-1-1."

"Are you serious, right now?"

Nodding, I pressed my lips together, crossing my arms. "No devices for the rest of the month besides the flip phone and things you have to do at school."

"No!" she snapped.

"If you argue, it will be longer." I put my hand up. "And, apologize for what you did wrong."

She glared at me, trying not to cry. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the iPod."

"And...?"

"And Snapchat and Instagram." It was like I was genuinely paining her.

"Like you mean it..."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Instagram and Snapchat." 

"Okay. I forgive you. Now, give me a hug." 

She gave me a quick pat on the back hug and pulled away. She didn't talk to me much for the rest of the night.