D-Day

Thursday, April 6, 1995

A few weeks ago, just after speaking to Sandy about possible career opportunities, after she had recommended I contact the American Society of Training and Development (since she felt that my first love was still teaching...just maybe not at the high school level anymore), I received a flyer in the mail from Jillian Jillen. She used to run staff development in our district before retiring a few years ago. Her flyer was a promotional one for the upcoming technology day put on by ASTD. Karma. I signed up for it.

There were workshops there that I definitely wanted to attend, especially one on the use of the "Persuasion" multimedia authoring software. The only problem was that it was on a school day. Today. If I was going to be able to sit in on the "Persuasion" session, I would have to miss second period, leave the charmers with a sub. Right. Oh, well. I really didn’t want to learn another software application. I picked other sessions to attend, and set up for Bruce Metcalf to cover the second half of second period (if I could get them started on something, like free work for a term-ending deadline while watching a video, then I could leave them with someone for the second half of class), and Student Government Heir Apparent Brad Scofield for third period.

Of course, the conference registration was before WASC and before our fearless leader announced last week that there would be a MANDATORY meeting after school today at which Bill Kurtzmann, the district superintendent, would address the staff. I begged off from the session, telling our principal of my conference. When I did this, I asked if she knew what this was all about. She muttered something about WASC and was otherwise tightlipped. She let me go--both from her office and to the conference(like she really had a choice)--and she mentioned that the meeting might be videotaped; if it was, I could watch it in all its glory...if not, she could have Kurtzmann call me at home and give it to me personally. It seemed like a weird joke. And all I wanted to do was leave.

As I go, I began to think of all this. Supposedly, Kurtzmann had been infuriated when the first words spoken at his meeting with the WASC visitation Committee was a report on the feeling held by many staff members that the district has not been wholeheartedly in support of our programs at Chumash. He had watched the WASC Committee deliver their report to the staff, saying nothing in support, then a week later announced his papal audience with the true believers.

We were all pretty sure that he was going to come down and try to clear up any "misconceptions" about district support for the school and its staff. The only debate was on which tack he would take. Would it be a "rally the troops speech" a la Henry the Fifth before Agincourt or would it be an angry father disappointed at his brood? We all hoped it would be the former, knowing that the latter would only serve to create even more rancor on our campus toward the district office. He couldn’t be that dumb, no matter what I’ve said earlier of my perception of district intelligence (an oxymoron if there ever was).

Anyway, I wasn’t going to be there, much to my disappointment (I did want to hear the speech, though, see the response, if for nothing more than to report it semi-objectively in this journal), and the tongue-wagging teasing of my colleagues (one even called me chicken, though most called me lucky).

Today, with the final days of the term winding down, I used the penultimate day of the English Nines to show side one of Searching for Bobby Fischer, a film that exults intelligence and giftedness, qualities I wouldn’t mind my Nines emulating. This they could watch or they could finish up any old, late, or make-up work before the period-end deadline. This allows for returning work tomorrow so that students can put together complete term notebooks for extra-credit...anything to get some of these kids to pass. The Honors class, after an exhausting term (yesterday capped with group presentations on the various narrators of Frankenstein), would finally finish watching Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing (after a five week break between viewings. This was the plan...not a bad one.

The only problem is that the thirty-year-old wiring of our wing is starting to show its wrinkles. The school was never wired for computers, and my south wall is adjacent to the computer lab, and for the last few weeks we’ve been having breaker failures. This morning, first period’s showing of the laserdisc was interrupted twice by power-outages. This gave me great pause about second period, unforgiving bastards that they can be. And sure enough, the disc player and televisions went down a half dozen times (I’m not sure they even finished the side). So when Bruce came in, and I sneaked out to the conference, I was feeling pretty shitty about my working conditions. This was the perfect mood to attend a conference centered around what I’ve started examining as an alternate career.

The seminar workshops ranged from the mundane and useless to the exciting and enticing. I met Jillian Jillen there, and (wonderful lady she is--so wonderful Kevin Davis once said she’s so nice, they named her twice) she introduced me to a number of people, including a past president of the organization, to whom she blew my horn, and before I knew it he had handed me his card and asked that I give him a call concerning possible part-time training positions (part-time, since Jillian told him she’d kill me if I left the district... get that uzi ready, baby). So this is networking... I’m not overly sociable, but I think I can do this.

By the end of the day, I had networked my way into another possible job interview, met with two other representatives of the district, both of whom knew Kurtzmann would be on our campus and semi-congratulated me on finding a way of not being there. Also there were three old-timer members of our staff--two business teachers, one science teacher, all IBMers--who were tangibly thrilled to miss the meeting this afternoon. All this talk was beginning to disturb me. Did they know something I didn’t? Was I out of the loop again? They claimed no other information, but I was getting a bad feeling nonetheless.

I left the conference a touch early, and headed back to school, to pick up what grading had been turned in. I figured I could walk back on campus--it was now nearing three-thirty--and get this work done, since the meeting should be over by now. Wrong. The lot was full when I pulled in. The library door across campus from my room was closed, the lights on. I went into my room and did my grade-stuff. The library door was still closed. Three-forty. I did the preparation of the room for tomorrow. The library door was still closed. Three-fifty. I didn’t want to go in. Not now. If it was still going on, something must be up. And I didn’t to stroll in like some Johnny-come-lately. I might as well paint a target on my ass. No thanks.

So I went home.

And I called Mary at the library at four-o-five. She sounded bummed. And she told me why.

Kurtzmann pulled our schedule.

We’ll be back on a six-period day in the fall.

I pressed for details. Kurtzmann came in and was at first conciliatory, commiserating with us over WASC. Then he hit us with changes.

Mary put Aimee on the phone. She sounded devastated, and said, "Thanks for being there for us today." She sounded seriously hurt I wasn’t there. Then she recounted what Mary said, adding that there might be "some kind of flexibility," but she didn’t know what that meant. I asked her where that puts our action plan. She said she didn’t know since it was based on continuing reform and change on campus, using the four-period day as a springboard for further change. Not that it matters, she said, and she sounded so down that I almost didn’t ask why, but she told me anyway. Kurtzmann said that it was his perception that we would receive only a one-year term of accreditation.

When I pushed on this, she told me that Kurtzmann had said that he had been "privy" to discussions that led him to believe that a one would be our accreditation, but that not even a six could save our block schedule. WASC isn’t the real reason, Kurtzmann had said. Concerns have been raised from every corner of the earth it seems. I asked her how the rest of the staff took it. She said that after you’ve been kicked in the teeth, you really don’t feel your knees being cut out from under you. She told me that she had to go, that she’d talk to me tomorrow. I told her to call me tonight. She said she would, but I know she won’t.

When the phone rang an hour ago, it wasn’t Aimee, but Cookie Harris. Her first word was "Chicken." Her take on Kurtzmann’s presentation was much more brutal, even more than the teeth and knees imagery. She said one of his first statements was that we have "several good teachers" on our campus. Well, that’s nice. The rest are shit, I suppose. She said after that positive opening, his big statement was that changes would have to be made. It took twenty minutes for the staff to ask if that meant the end of the four-period day. And it was only at that point that he said yes. Whether he would have made the statement on his own is still debatable according to Cookie. I told her all this is unbelievable... that I thought it was going to be a "rally the troops" speech, to which she said he was probably a lieutenant in ‘Nam. Frag’ the bastard. She told me that her most lasting image of the meeting was that of the Crusher standing alone in the back corner of the library, smiling, seemingly enjoying all this, almost gloating. I wasn’t sure I got it, then she told me that the word has it that he has filed a grievance with the district, claiming work-related stress over indignities endured, and that he has received a fourth-term exile into substitute-land. I didn’t want to get into the tale of the Crusher, so I moved on and I questioned the timing of the hook. WASC was just an excuse, she said, we should have seen this coming. I asked if it is any coincidence that he drops the bomb after the yearly deadline for requests for voluntary transfers. We’re stuck on a sinking ship. He has torpedoed the boat and stolen the life rafts. She said tomorrow will be even more dismal than the day after WASC... nobody went drinking tonight, they all went home to sulk.

One day left. Fatigue and WASC had kicked our ass. At our lowest point, we are now told that our program is a casualty. This sucks.

I hope somebody videotaped the meeting. I’d love to see it. Otherwise, I’ll be hearing as many versions as there were staff there today.

It’s going to be a very long minimum day.