Which Witch

(photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash)

Being summoned to the Principal’s office as a first-year teacher is just as scary as the time I had to go there after I smeared glue on a classmate when we were in 5^th grade. I take the long way down the hall wondering what on earth I did this time.

Mrs. Harrumph (no, not her real name) is sitting behind her desk. Her hair is a mess (my mother would call it a rat’s nest), her cardigan sweater is askew and her glasses-on-a-chain look bent.

“Ah, yes, thank you for coming in.” As if I had a choice. I am ten again.

“I suppose you’d like to know why I want to speak with you.” Maybe I’m being fired? Otherwise, no, not really.

“You’ve been teaching some Halloween-themed music, yes?” A statement-question.

“Yes, I have. Lots of variety.” Halloween is this Friday and the kids can’t wait.

“What is this piece regarding witches?”

Uh-oh.

“Were you not having them impersonate witches flying about the room?”

“Well, we’ve been listening to Symphonie Fantastique. The Fifth Movement: Dreams of a Witches’ Sabbath. And yes, doing some improvisatory movement.” Meaning witches flying around the room on broomsticks but I’m not going to announce this.

“Oh dear.” Mrs. H looks toward the door where Gladys the secretary is ushering someone in. A mom. The mom of a kid in my class. Oh no.

“Hello Mrs. C,” says Mrs. H, and introduces us. I have not met this mom yet since it’s only October. I know instantly she’s the mother of Clarice, who is a passive aggressive student who scares her classmates and me.

“I will get right to the point,” Mrs. C will not meet my eye. “I will NOT have my daughter indoctrinated into blatant anti-Christian Satan-worshipping. I will NOT have it. What do you think you are doing to our children? This is unacceptable!”

I stammer something about Berlioz.

“The Sabbath is not for witches! It is for Jesus Christ. What you are doing is blasphemy. Worse than blasphemy!”

I think that explaining that the witches’ sabbath is the somewhat grotesque finale of the “fantastic” symphony will not be helpful. And that I have never once considered worshiping Satan in my entire life.

Mrs. H suggests that I simply discontinue using the piece in class and I readily agree. Mrs. C gets up to leave, turning back to say, “You should be ashamed. I will be watching for any further irreverent content that you subject my daughter to. I will pull her out of this class if needed.”

I am shaken. I think that-is-that, but no. Gladys is escorting another parent into the office.

Mrs. W is warm and friendly. She is wearing colorful, flowy clothing and a gigantic pendant. She also gets right to the point.  “My family practices Wicca. We are a bit worried about the piece of music you played in class the other day. We feel that it may be disrespectful of witches.”

I have no idea what to say. Mrs. Harrumph tosses me a weary glance.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” I say. I explain the origins of the piece and why I wanted to use it in class. Mrs. W listens thoughtfully. What exactly is Wicca?

Mrs. H interjects that I will not be using this particular music from now on. Mrs. W smiles and says thank you for that. She pats me on the knee. “Look up Wicca. It’s very approachable. We believe in respect for all. And some of us could be considered witches.” Did she wink at me?

I mutter something about how Berlioz probably didn’t realize that. She smiles again and flows out the door.

“That went as well as can be expected,” Mrs. H says.

“I should stick to pumpkins,” I suggest. She nods. “Yes. You definitely should.”

An interesting and unusual excerpt from The Witches’ Sabbath. Happy Halloween!