“I’m not going to tell you again. Put your phone down!”

She was the third student this week that had to be warned against texting while driving and the third time I was ignored. I thought teaching high school English had been challenging but it paled in comparison to being a driving instructor. The youthful ignorance of my students was overshadowed by their arrogance.

“I can’t put it down,” Sarah protested. “I might miss out on something.”

“You might get into a car accident.”

“Yeah? So what if I do?”

For a moment, our car swerved into the opposite lane of traffic. Using the dual controls installed on the passenger side of the car, I pulled on the steering wheel while pushing hard in the brakes. When the oncoming dump truck passed by, the driver leaned on its horn. It masked the obscenities muttered under my breath. Another accident avoided, our vehicle slowed to a stop on the shoulder of the road.

“You really don’t understand how dangerous it is, do you?”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you say it is,” she replied without taking her eyes off her smartphone. “What’s the big deal?”

The private school I taught at had a smattering of students who acted like they were privileged, as if the rules didn’t apply to them. A few months back, when the class president got in trouble for vandalism, the arrest was voided. All subsequent punishment from the school vanished as well. Not a surprising outcome when his father, a benefactor of the school, promised to build a new library. Expected but still unfair.

“Your parents aren’t going to bail you out every time you get in trouble.”

Sarah rolled her eyes before she replied. It was the only time she looked away from her phone.

“Of course they are. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have kids. That’s what parents are for.”

“My students are my kids. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Her dismissive attitude was as irksome as the response itself. The verbal shorthand felt disrespectful. She couldn’t be bothered to spend an iota of intelligence to formulate a better reply, just as she couldn’t put down her phone. My grip tightened on the steering wheel. I looked out the windshield, at the road that lay ahead, and caught a glimpse of Sarah’s future.

I stomped on the accelerator. Loose gravel sprayed out behind the car until the rear wheels found traction. The quick start garnered a brief glimpse in my direction but not much more. When the speedometer passed forty five miles an hour and continued to climb, Sarah finally looked up and asked what I was doing.

“Sacrificing one to save the many,” I replied.

While my right hand guided the car towards a telephone pole, I reached down with my left and unfastened her seat belt. On impact, the airbags deployed but Sarah launched through the windshield. She took her final breath on top of the hood.

When the police arrived and asked for an explanation, I said, “She was texting and driving. I kept telling her not to but she wouldn’t listen.”