We get into the St. Mark parking lot at 9:00 p.m., and most of the parents are waiting for us. I don’t get off the bus right away because I don’t want to face the crowd, some of them gushing with thanks about how gracious of me it was to make this opportunity possible for their kids, and others with accusing eyes that won’t meet mine who think I’ve done something bad and that’s why my contract wasn’t renewed. Confronting them doesn’t work. They only believe her more. So I stay on the bus and check for discarded candy wrappers that the kids were supposed to pick up and bide my time. I turn to exit, and one of my dads who has been on 3 trips with his first daughter and 2 with his second, who is a big bear of a man with a teddy bear heart, who has built an airplane, a thrust stage, and a canoe for our plays is standing in the aisle looking at me and crying and saying, “It’s been great,” and for the first time when he hugs me, I can cry about this.

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