I went to the hospital for a prenatal checkup because of my pregnancy, and the parents filed a joint complaint against me. “At such a critical time, you as a teacher should be on call 24/7!” “You dare to running off to the hospital?! what if we parents can’t find you? How can you still call yourself a teacher?” “Women really aren’t suited to be teachers, especially not math teachers. Too many issues affecting their work!” I was both angry and anxious listening to this. Over the past two years, I had carefully planned and raised my students’ overall performance by two grade levels, even postponing my own wedding for this. Though the pregnancy was unexpected, I never dared to take leave to avoid disrupting the students’ emotions. I had even become more dedicated than before. Yet these parents condemned me as irresponsible and subjected me to gender discrimination. What broke my heart even more was that after the students learned I’d been reported, they were completely indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with them. Things had come to this point, so I simply quit. A few months later, these parents blocked my doorway: “Ms. Griffin, please come back.”
I was pregnant, just over two months along. This baby seemed particularly considerate—I had no adverse reactions. I just needed routine checkups, and the doctor said I could continue working as long as I watched my activity level. My due date was in July, and I had already prepared my review materials in advance. I just needed to implement them step by step. I had even reported this to my supervisor. After comprehensive consideration, to avoid student resistance, they insisted I remain as their teacher. I never expected that after one parent complaint, the principal would change his tune and blame me first. Though angry, I still patiently replied: “Hugo’s mom, you’re a woman too. You should understand the pregnancy process. The first few months allow for normal work. Besides, my due date is late July. Right now my energy isn’t significantly affected. I guarantee it won’t impact my class responsibilities.” Hugo’s mom replied in a shrill voice: “You guarantee? With what? Precisely because I’m a woman, I know how terrible a pregnant woman’s condition can be. Plus, pregnancy makes you lose IQ for three years. In your state, how can you guarantee teaching quality? The kids only have one final sprint left—this is the most critical time!” After she finished, other parents kept liking Hugo’s mom’s message. Wendy’s dad: “Hugo’s mom’s anxiety is completely normal. Women teachers are just trouble. How could you get pregnant at such a crucial time? This is completely irresponsible!” Lily’s mom: “Last semester, grades barely improved and she took leave to get married. I was already worried about what would happen if she got pregnant now. Turns out she really did!” Zack’s dad: “We initially saw her credentials were decent. The school kept assuring us you were a good teacher, so we agreed to let you teach. Sure enough, here comes the trouble.” This was blatant gender and professional discrimination. I couldn’t help but argue: “Parents, I’ve explained very clearly—I went for my checkup on the weekend. It won’t take up work time. I currently have no other symptoms, I’m in good condition, and I haven’t used my pregnancy as an excuse for special privileges. I’ve always put work first. If I really wanted to slack off, I could easily use pregnancy as an excuse to resign from my teaching position.” Hugo’s mom sneered: “Words are cheap. You just got pregnant and haven’t shifted into that role yet. How can you guarantee you’ll stay in good condition throughout your pregnancy? At the end of the day, it’s about the bonus money. Who doesn’t know teachers get better pay, and you’re teaching the honors class, which adds to your teaching resume.” Hearing these words, my heart went ice cold. High school teachers could be said to be the hardest-working teachers. As a teacher, there are endless meetings and endless class affairs to handle. I also had to constantly adjust review plans and maintain communication with parents. Every day was like being a spinning top that never stopped. Yet the parents couldn’t understand and continued attacking me: “That’s why women teachers are risky. First marriage, then pregnancy, then childbirth. The trouble is pregnant women are emotionally sensitive. Who knows if she’ll be taking care of the students or if the students will be taking care of her?” “No wonder. She’s using her pregnancy to hog the position just to earn a bit more baby formula money!” “Ah! That’s so unethical. Our children are in their most critical final year. We can’t let this ruin everything!” “Get lost! Stop being a teacher. You’re harming others and yourself. You can be short on money, but you can’t lack humanity!” “Ms. Griffin, put yourself in our shoes. If your own child were in this class, would you want a pregnant woman as their teacher?” The questioning kept flooding the screen. I’m someone with stable emotions, but at that moment even my hand holding the phone trembled slightly. For money? If it were for money, why would I become a teacher?
I have a PhD in mathematics. When I first graduated, I had my pick of jobs. But because I grew up in a small town, I decided to become a teacher in an area with scarce educational resources. Yet these parents blamed me at every turn. Just then, Chinese teacher Ms. Garcia spoke up to calm things down: “Parents, let’s not talk about anything else. Why did Class 9 become the honors class? Wasn’t it because Ms. Griffin single-handedly built it up? Her ability is beyond question. Maintaining the status quo is better for the students. There’s no need to worry about things that haven’t happened yet, right?” Class 9 was originally the group with the weakest performance. I had voluntarily taken on the challenge and used two years to steadily improve their grades. The student with the best math scores in the entire school was in my class. The parent group fell briefly silent. Hugo’s mom: “What does the kids’ hard work and improvement have to do with the teacher?” As soon as she said this, the other parents chimed in: “Student success depends on natural talent. A teacher’s role is just supervision. How can we let a pregnant woman do proper supervision work?” Reading their words, my eyes reddened slightly. The students did work hard, but let’s not forget that both society and schools now have a trend toward adultification. Children have poor self-control. Guiding them to study actively and focus on their studies—this ideological work isn’t easy. But I had done it. They saw the results of the students’ progress but ignored how much research and sweat I had put into it. I often used diverse methods to teach students new problem-solving approaches. Sometimes to reward their progress, I’d buy stationery and notebooks out of my own pocket. Precisely because I had benefited from the country’s welfare, I wanted to pass on this simple emotion. More than profit, I was loyal to my heart in doing this work. But now these parents were saying their children’s improved grades had nothing to do with me. That I was dispensable. They completely denied everything about me. My heart went cold: “Since you parents believe students’ grades depend entirely on themselves, then how does my weekend prenatal checkup affect them?” Provoked by my words, the parents exploded again: “Students’ grades are easily affected by emotions. Since you’re pregnant, students will instinctively not want to trouble you. So what’s the point of having you as a teacher?” “Exactly. When students forget to eat while doing problems, or when they feel unwell, they’ll have to consider your physical condition first. They’re already exhausted—now they have to read your moods too?” “You’re a teacher. You should be taking care of students in every way, not having students take care of you.” They disparaged me as worthless. My eyes darkened. Just then, Ms. Garcia called me and told me not to argue with these impossible parents. I could understand the parents’ concerns. Finally, I patiently typed: “Parents, I’ve received your concerns. I sincerely ask you to trust me. I guarantee that my pregnancy absolutely will not affect my work. If anything unusual occurs, I will voluntarily step down from my teaching position.” Ms. Garcia sent a message: “Parents, please stay calm. I will do my best to assist Ms. Griffin and absolutely won’t let what you’re worried about happen.” However, Hugo’s mom sneered: “This pregnant woman is indeed stupid and can’t understand plain language. We told her to stop being a teacher, but she’s still clinging to the position. She really is greedy for money and fame!” These words stung my eyes.
I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at myself. All along, I had accompanied these students for over two years, constantly adjusting study and review plans according to their individual situations. Everyone had received one-on-one tutoring from me, especially in mathematics, where our class had a massive lead over others. Fine. I gave up being this thankless teacher. Stroking my belly and holding the review plan I’d prepared earlier, I walked into the classroom. The students’ faces changed drastically when they saw me, especially when they received another huge stack of review problems. “Teacher, I’m sick of doing these problems.” “I’m dead tired right now. Can we please stop with all this problem-solving? I can’t take it anymore!” I gave my usual spiel: “This is an important period. After the exam, you’ll have a three-month vacation. Then you can do whatever you want!” “Teacher, if we get into good universities, how much bonus will you get?” Hugo stood up, looking at me mockingly. I was slightly stunned. “I asked about other classes, and none of them are like ours—keeping us locked up at lunch, not letting us go back, constantly pushing us to study, study, and study more. I heard you won’t be our teacher soon, so stop wasting effort exploiting us.” Exploiting? What kind of word was that? Did they think they were taking exams for me? Hugo was the biggest gossip in our class, with a mouth like a megaphone that leaked every piece of news. Realizing this, standing on the podium, I looked around at the other students’ reactions. They showed irritation and indifference. The one thing they didn’t show was… reluctance to see me go. They seemed to wish I would leave quickly. From their eyes, I understood they must think they were working toward good universities for my bonus and credentials. I closed my textbook. “Anyone who doesn’t want to do the practice problems, return the papers.” Then I watched as all the students unanimously placed their papers in front of me. I picked up the papers and left the classroom. Immediately after, I heard a burst of joyful laughter. “Finally free! No more looking at that ugly face!” “Her test papers are so hard. Every problem she creates is difficult. You lose half your hair doing just one.” “Finally we can breathe. I’m getting fried chicken tonight to celebrate.” My steps paused slightly, then I straightened my back and left the teaching building. For the first time, I questioned whether I should continue being a teacher. The next day, Class 9’s teacher was changed to a male teacher. He taught English. He had just graduated from college not long ago and also had connections with the principal. Hugo’s mom had already done her research. The new teacher lived near the school, making it convenient to supervise students. “Mr. Morris may be young, but he’s very easy to talk to, answers almost any question, and he’s an Ivy League graduate.” “Hugo’s mom, thank you for thinking of our children. I don’t think pregnant women make good teachers.” “Right, it’s kind of unlucky.” Seeing the group’s discrimination against pregnant women, I finished the handover with Mr. Morris and quit the group. When the principal saw my resignation letter, he frowned: “Ms. Griffin, this is wrong of you. Parents make a fuss—that’s all. You don’t need to threaten me with resignation.”
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