Epilogue: Take a Letter

Saturday, March 20, 1996

Well, here it is... a year to the day from the moment the WASC Visitation Team strode onto the Chumash campus to leave so much shit in their wake. A fitting day to write this.

Summer was semi-busy, filled with rumors fulfilled and jobs not found. Within a week of graduation, we learned that Ortiz would not be coming back. What we didn’t learn--ever--were the circumstances surrounding his departure. Was it retirement? Forced or voluntary? Did it come down from the d.o.? Was it over WASC?

For a week in late June, Aimee was touting her resignation from the Leadershit Team, as well as open pursuance of a transfer over to Bard. Around the same time, Bob was still trying to get over to AcadHigh for the fall. I kept joking that it would be ironic if in September, Bob is gone to Acad, Aimee is off to Bard, and I’m back with Joan as my chief?

Scary.

I pursued some job leads--halfheartedly. Linda from Westwind had a theatre job open up. I applied. The sister of an acquaintance (who worked in a post-production house in Hollywood) was impressed by my computer imaging skills; but of course impressed and willing to create a new position are two different things. Neither lead panned out.

At the beginning of July, Kevin Davis had returned from vacation. Upon hearing the sad-and-sordid (but true) tale of the waning moments at Chumash, he told me to call up Lily and try to get a last minute transfer back to PeeVee. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I was irritable most of July, filled with an ambivalence that I (still?) can’t shake. I was only halfheartedly pursuing job-leads, but I was dreading going back to Chumash, but I didn’t really want a transfer. I tried to explain my ambivalence to Lisa. I didn’t want to return to C.H.S. (I felt snubbed there and I hated the people with/for whom I would work), and yet I wouldn’t transfer to another school (some stupid pride in losing face over the 4H’s? ... paranoia? ... I’m still not completely sure). There was a part of me that wanted to help change C.H.S. for the better, and another part of me that just wanted to rent a Ryder truck and blow the place to fuckin’ hell.

By mid-July, Aimee was no longer on her way off--either the LT or our campus. Joan convinced her not to send the letter that she wanted to send to members of the LT--"not if you ever want to sit in this (the principal’s) chair." Joan also denied all responsibility of the 4H decision; funny, though, Aimee never actually asked if Joan was behind it... it just sorta "came up."

I spent much of August learning new software applications, trying to build a market for myself. Of course, I again failed to do much actual marketing; thus...

I was back at school when it began in early September. When putting the final touches on Frankie’s old room and my new one, room 38, the Friday before the beginning of classes (remember, we’re not allowed to be on campus during the weekend), I was visited by one of my 4H’s from last year. She asked if the rumors were true.

What rumors?

Walters isn’t teaching 4H. Now since she was off to my alma mater in a matter of weeks, I thought she was mature enough for the truth and I told her the story. She was stunned. She couldn’t believe it. She tried to make me feel better, what with the same old "but-you-were-the-best-teacher-I-had-at-C.H.S.-and-I-wouldn’t-be-going-to-the-UC-if-it-wasn’t-for-you" line of incredibly considerate bullshit, but it didn’t work. Instead of making me feel better and loved, it just pissed me off. And I started the year wanting nothing more than to kill Joan and somehow pin the murder on Bruce (oh, the fantasy went, he’d make some bruiser a fine bitch in the big house).

I did try some innovations this year, though. I abandoned the old routine of building a watered down college prep curriculum for the standard level classes (this year I had two sections of Twelves--me, SeniorMan--in place of the Nines... and weren’t some of my Nines from three years ago just so pleased to see me again). I called the classes Walters Enterprises and structured the classes like a job. The students had certain responsibilities, and as long as they fulfilled those responsibilities, they would pass the class. I still had fails (god help the private sector), but many of the students (openly) thanked me for trying explicitly to teach responsibility.

By mid-October, with our staff already grappling with and becoming more and more fatigued by the shift back to the sixth period day--which had brought a whole new set a problems (like, not having enough textbooks for all the students in all the sections of the classes...with some students not receiving books until November)--the d.o. in its finite wisdom unveiled its new proposal: the addition of twenty additional days to the academic year. The simplistic logic went something like this: 180 days is not so good for student achievement, so 200 will be wonderful.

The proposal was met by lukewarm disdain.

But we had bigger fish to fry on the Chumash campus. The cluster groups were not going well. What had begun as an idealistically wonderful way to have true dialogue in the decision-making process--and for which I had volunteered to become a facilitator--was becoming a rudderless whipping boy used by many groups to gripe about last year’s WASC instead of discussing then implementing the Action Plan. There were some groups--which were now being referred to as "cluster-fucks"--that were so off the mark that the Leadership Team, now led by Grey (since she had received "the second largest amount of votes for an administrator after Knight"), was seriously considering pulling the plug on a group or two.

The Team in its finite wisdom instead teamed said group (lead by that standard-bearer for optimistic change--NOT--Jack Harrelson) with mine with no advanced warning or preparation given to me.

It was the last straw for me. And thus the following letter, delivered (and read) in person to the Leadership Team:

October 25, 1995

Members of the Leadership Team:

In the spring of this year, in a daze of malaise, I purposefully withheld my name from the Leadership Team nominating process. At the end of the 94-95 school year, however, I allowed myself to be corralled as a Cluster Group facilitator. I allowed this because--whether I like to admit it or not--I am an evangelist for reform on this campus (this and I felt obliged to a few friends who were on the Leadership Team).

I, like many--but not all--of my facilitating cohorts, listened to, absorbed, and digested the invaluable material presented by Gloria and Aimee in the waning weeks of summer. I led my group to the best of my ability in the first session. At the second session, with a less-defined agenda--but with a session-saving analogy from Cookie--I led my group as best as I could without a partner/recorder.

By this point, it could be discerned that some groups might be having more success than others. This could be attributed to any number of factors: lack of facilitator understanding of the process and/or the goals of the Clusters; particular Cluster Group dynamics; possible failure of the Leadership Team to communicate the Cluster Group aims. Regardless of the root cause, the situation was brewing. And by the in-service day on October 12, it was obvious to all that some Clusters were having problems.

On Thursday, October 19, Aimee asked me if I wouldn't mind hosting a "doubled-up" session with a problematic Cluster. The unspoken assumption was that this would take place some time down the road; thus, I relented.

On Monday the 23rd, I learned that the "doubled-up" session would take place this week. I had yet to be notified about any agenda or double-group-building activities. I was--to put it mildly--disturbed.

When I did receive the paperwork for tomorrow's Clusters, the "agenda" was problematic: Item 1 seemed to have no connection whatsoever to the previous Cluster sessions; Item 2 seemed only partially thought-out, supplying facilitators with no tools or activities to accomplish the task; and Item 3's deadline continued to put immediate time constraints on a cadre of individuals who are participating on a purely voluntary basis. Missing completely from the "agenda" was any discussion of the "doubled" session or any direction as to facilitating such a coupling of Clusters. Even more problematic was the complete abandonment of the Vision Statement direction the Clusters had prior to the October 12 in-service; without a sense of direction, Cluster members will rebel and the Cluster Groups will die an ugly, ignominious death.

This entire experience is becoming ridiculous (as in, adj.: meriting or inspiring ridicule).

I have been saddled with an invisible (though well-intentioned) partner, inadequately defined (though, I hope, well-intentioned) agendas, and now a problematic (though--all together now--well-intentioned) Cluster Group without an agenda that assists facilitators in the coupling of the groups or even addresses the coupling at all.

The road to Hell is paved, as they say, with good intentions; it is, however, a destination that I have no intention on visiting. I hereby resign as a Cluster Group facilitator, effective November 17 (allowing for this doubled session and a final individual session with my group, at which I will assist with the new facilitator's transition). This statement is unequivocal and non-negotiable.

Because I remain an advocate for change, I will, however, still participate in the Leadership Team's "spin doctoring" attempts.

Respectfully submitted,
Bill Walters

Stunned silence was the wind at my back as I left the Leadership Team meeting. Bob emailed me that night, applauding my actions. He knew why I did it. It was a wake-up call. His only worry was that too few would take it as such. He was right. The Clusters’ foundering has continued throughout the year.

In the meantime, the wonks at the d.o. pressed on with their extended-year plan. They attempted to use a National Education Commission on Time and Learning report entitled "Prisoners of Time" to justify the report. Kurtzmann also proclaimed in the press that he had "overwhelming" teacher support for the plan.

We were underwhelmed. The d.o. went into what can only be called "damage control" for them. They sent out reps to discuss the plan at the all of the individual sites’ November faculty meetings. Again, Kurtzmann was the king of timing. He knew that the Board of Trustees would vote on the measure during the first week of December. He also knew that the union would have to take a vote of the rank and file before issuing (what everyone assumed would be) a negative position. He also knew that he could take political advantage from of any vote that was taken before the d.o. could explain its case. And he also knew that faculty meetings are held in the second half of the month. With the Thanksgiving holiday, there wouldn’t be much time for anyone to mount much of a fight against his plan. He had thought out everything.

Well, almost.

The teachers at AcadHigh ganged up on Kurtzmann when he tried to present at their faculty meeting, final reducing him to saying something along the lines of "We’re gonna do this with or without your support." Not good. He knew better to come down to our end of town. We’d send him back with his balls in his hands and his ass in a sling.

He send GoD instead.

GoD didn’t answer a single concern. Not when I hit him with "Prisoners of Time," which really advocates flexible time (cough, block scheduling, cough), not extended school year. Not when Cookie discussed our socioeconomically depressed clientele’s need for summer jobs (nearly eliminated by the extended year). Not when Aimee voiced concerns over attaching extra days when failing to attack outmoded methodologies. He didn’t say a thing.

But we did. And it all went down on tape. Joan recorded it... so that "those teachers who missed (that) meeting (could) hear the district’s discussion of the plan at (the next day’s) make-up meeting." Yeah, right. And I’m sure Nixon said the same thing about his tapes, too.

Well, Billy don’t just get pissed, he gets to writing. Thus, letter two of the year:

November 22, 1995

Bill Kurtzmann
Pleasant Valley Union High School District

Dear Mr. Kurtzmann:

Time is an emotional issue at Chumash High School.

First, the rumors of the 200-day proposal began to surface in late October, and there were no details. Then, the union site reps were asked by the union’s Executive Committee to "get a feel" for staff support--without taking a vote--and yet none of us had any details on which to go. Then your office went public with the proposal, proclaiming in the Los Angeles Times that you had overwhelming teacher support, and implying that any teacher or parent against the notion of a longer school year was a banner-waver for the status quo and someone unwilling to change. Details, at this point, were sketchy, but the tone of the proposal’s presentation was becoming very clear. At the well-attended board meeting, the report "Prisoners of Time" was bandied about as the rationale for the proposal.

When I learned that Dr. Duncan would attend our November 21 faculty meeting to discuss the plan, I read the report, hoping to understand the plan better. I understood the report very well. This is what I gleaned from "Prisoners of Time":

Prisoners of Time: Introduction: "Time must become an adjustable resource." (9a)

Adjustable means flexible, not longer.

Dimensions of the Time Challenge: "...recent poll findings...52% of Americans today favor...plurality favors..." (13a)

So what? These are the same people who won't vote through bond measures. The mere mention of this gives me pause: Are we to develop curriculum by poll? When do we begin surveying students to decide which teachers will teach which classes?

Dimensions of the Time Challenge: "A study of successful urban schools indicates they need up to 50 days of external technical assistance for...strengthening staff skills through professional development." (17a)

And yet the District proposes that we find some of the 20 new days in existing site-based and in-service days.

Lessons from Abroad: "International comparisons of education are difficult." (23a)

Absolutely. Societal differences, linguistic differences, and cultural differences make making comparisons rather that contrasts intellectually hazardous. Japan's society is homogeneous, mastery of English only seen as an economic tool and its reverence for rote memorization and knowledge through recall are completely antithetical to what we have in theory and practice in the U.S. Still, the report uses Japan as a comparison...incredible (in the truest sense of the word).

Lessons from Abroad: "In Japan, schools and the larger society generally ignore 'ability' or 'aptitude' as factors in schools." (25b)

The discussion of the "jukus" are perfect support of this: Hard seat work is king.

Lessons from Abroad: "Examination pressure is even more severe in Japan." (26)

And it has one of the highest teen suicide rates in the world.

But here are the "biggies":

Recommendations: II: Fix the Design Flaw: "Block scheduling...should become more common." (31a)

Not longer years. More flexible days.

Recommendations: IV: Keep School Open Longer: "We recommend...that some schools in every district remain open throughout the year." (34)

Some, not all. And even those "some" are recommended to have staggered-day and -year schedules, not merely a longer year.

The report in toto does not support your proposal. Nowhere does the report recommend a 200-day schedule with the same kind of days as the present 180-day schedule. Longer is not better; flexible is better. Reading the report myself made me question how well (if at all) the members of your staff had read the report.

At the faculty meeting on November 21, Dr. Duncan did his best to distance himself and the district from the report, leaving those in attendance with no impression except that there was either no rationale for citing the report or no rationale for the extended-year proposal itself.

I used to be worried about not knowing the details of the plan. But I realize now we don't need to see all the details. By giving us "Prisoners of Time," you've allowed us to see the fallacious logic you've employed in this entire undertaking. My "read" on this is that someone at the district level had very little respect for teachers and parents: put a report--any report--out there, and the public will assume that it supports the plan because no one will actually spend the time to read the report.

I find that cynical and insulting... almost as insulting as the implication made in the Times article that teachers and parents who are against this plan are not advocates for change. We, at Chumash High, are most definitely advocates for change. We "do" change at CHS.

And you took that away from us.

Did we make mistakes? Of course we did. However, other schools and districts have seen the potential. They are riding the crests of the wave we at CHS created. My suggestion is to look within for the answers, not without -- not to Japan, not to the National Education Commission on Time and Learning, not to polls and surveys. Look to the real power: look to teachers, staff, parents and students.

We can show you The Way.

Sincerely,
Bill Walters

cc:

The courtesy copies were sent to GoD, the members of the Board, and Joan. GoD never responded, neither did the Board members. Kurtzmann never addressed me directly, but he sent his toady Grey to talk to me.

I was sitting in the Professional Room during my prep, working on some English 4 materials on one of the networked PowerMacs, when I felt someone come through the open door behind me. Then I heard the door close. I felt like a low level foot-soldier in GoodFellas; I had a feeling I was about to get whacked. I didn’t turn around. Joan sat down next to me.

She wanted to talk about the letter. She told me that she knew that I was a passionate guy (and suddenly I was worried... I wouldn't have to do her or anything, would I?), that I was prone to become incensed over what I perceived were injustices. But the letter was too much. Someday, I was going to need something from someone in power, and they (read He; read Kurtzmann) weren't going to remember what a "wonderful and innovative" teacher I was (yeah, stroke me faster please); no, He was going to remember me as the guy who wrote that letter. And then I wouldn't get what I wanted. Boofuckinghoo. She told me writing was good; it would purge my system. But the next time I wrote a letter like that, I should just let it sit for a day, then I should throw it away. And bless her heart, that rock that was looking out for my future, the lapdog went scurrying back to the kennel.

Subtle pressure. It doesn't work. The next day, I voted with seventy percent of my comrades against the plan. When news of that majority was leaked to the press (and I still think it was Kurtzmann and not the union that did the leaking), Kurtzmann was quoted in the press as saying, "When are we going to make education a full-time profession?"

Fuck him.

The next Thursday I spoke before the Board as they prepared to vote on the measure. I took him to task personally for his statement. I presented ten studies (seven of which refuted the simplistic logic the district was employing; two sat on the fence; and only one report supporting the claim--and that study was done over twenty years ago... not exactly cutting edge data). I reiterated the argument from my letter to Kurtzmann. I urged a no vote. And I wasn't the only one. Forty speakers. Thirty-six in opposition (mostly students and teachers, a few parents). Four in favor (two district office employees--and one of them retired--and two teachers whose programs depended solely on district support).

Everything was in our favor. Except the Board. Which voted five-zip to approve the measure. With or without our support, the plan went on.

But the BigMan was on campus just before the break to have "fireside" chats with anyone who wished to talk. Of course, I went in. I knew that if I got him one on one, it would be cool. Kurtzmann's not a total dick. One on one, he's human; it's just that when he's in public-address mode, he becomes PompousAssMann. It's not like I thought I would make him see the errors of his ways... but I did want him to know that I didn't have a personal vendetta against him; I mean, I hate everything he stands for and I'd love to see him standing at a Tel Aviv bus-stop on Palestine Drive-A-Bomb-To-Work Day, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

When I arrived during my prep, there was just one other teacher in the room. And Bill was charming. I walked in. Still charming. Then I learned just how many people need to be in the room before he goes into public-address mode. Four (and he's one of them). The second Howard Laws came into the room, Kurtzmann changed. Heckle and Jeckyll, Jeckyll and Hyde, Hide and Seek. Howard left, the changed man stayed. Very disappointing. I never had the chance to talk to NonPompousAssMann. But by that time, I didn't much care.

By the time January rolled around, Joan was intimating to certain well-placed individuals (June, Harold, Aimee) that they were now seen by the D.O. as "negative" individuals. On the surface, this was a joke, right? Aimee negative? Harold, the reformist, negative? June--a more Pollyanna-ish rah-rah for WarriorPride you'll never find--negative? Both Bob and I were depressed we didn't make the list (though, in retrospect, Joan probably didn't tell me because I'm a given, right?). The existence of this semi-explicit District shitlist was creating paranoid all over campus. The Oliver Stone side of my psyche still figures that this was the intention anyway, especially since Joan gave us the directive at the January faculty meeting to think good thoughts or keep the bad ones to ourselves. We were not to voice negative opinions to the District or to the Board because she was "tired of having to answer to" them. McCarthyism lives.

Around this time, with first semester winding down, I was told that one of my English Four sections would be shut down at the end of the term. Low enrollment. I could have seen it coming. Only a knucklehead would schedule an English Four section during sixth period, at the end of the day. But then again, remember where we are... Not only was this section low in numbers, but my other two sections were shrinking according to next terms projections. Some students were complaining again. And they were bailing to the sections of another teacher who shall remain nameless (though word has been trickling back--to both Yosh and Aimee--that said teacher's Honors class has been deemed "too easy" and "a waste" by more than one student in said section... but who cares?). Thus, and here a phrase from last year rises from the dead: A change needs to be made.

Two days before the new semester began, I was told that I would have a new prep. It would be a five-unit elective for those students in need of English credits. This would not be a charming bunch. Bruce was so kind as to tell the administrative powers that be that they would not determine the curriculum, but that it would be my job to do that. Gee, thanks, Bruce. Fun. So I looked through the books. Found it. A course for which I had helped create the pilot curriculum. "Film: a Visual Approach to Literature." Fuck it. If I was going to get stuck with a class, I'm gonna make it at least fun for me.

The new semester started. One student on the roll. By the end of the first day: five students. The first week: thirty-six. Counselors dumped students in, telling them that they's "just be watching movies." Wrong. Watching, analyzing, writing about. And, fancy this, the kids were pissed. Oh, well.

I became the stereotypical burnout, master of the electronic lesson plan. It was depressing. There was only one way to raise my spirits. Thus, letter number three:

March 4, 1996

Bill Kurtzmann
Superintendent
Pleasant Valley Union High School District

Dear Mr. Kurtzmann:

In compliance with Article 11, Section 5 of the Certificated Unit Agreement, I hereby request a one-year leave of absence to take place during the 1996-97 academic year. I am requesting this leave for personal and philosophical reasons.

Sincerely,
W.R. Walters

It was a birthday gift to myself. I only told three people on campus: Aimee, Bob, and Mary. They would and did understand. I didn't even send a courtesy copy to Bruce or Joan. I was curious how quickly news would trickle back. It didn't take long.

While at the ASTD Board meeting on the fourteenth, Jillian Jillen walked in and asked, "So is it true you're taking a sabbatical?" To which I answered, "No, but we should talk..."

Two days later at the McConnell's annual St. Paddy's Day bash, the first words Joan said to me were "So, what are you doing next year?"

"I don't know" was my honest answer.

"Going back to school?"

"No plans to... don't really know... I guess it depends on whether or not they approve the leave."

"They almost always approve them."

End of conversation, though when she passed me at the keg later she said, "Maybe you should write something... the Great American Novel, maybe."

Lisa smiled at me. I laughed. "Maybe I will... maybe I have..."

Today, at lunch, I found what I was looking for in my box. A letter. Short and sweet.

March 15, 1996

Mr. Bill Walters
Classroom Teacher
Chumash High School

Dear Mr. Walters:

At the regular Board Meeting of March 13, 1996, the Board of Trustees approved your request for a Leave of Absence Without Pay for the 1996/97 School Year.

Best wishes during your leave!

Sincerely,
Ed Wainright
Director of Personnel

Joan announced it at today's faculty meeting, to some suprised gasps of some of the staff, making some off-handed comment about me going off to write the G.A.N.. Bob commented later that Joan seemed too happy making the announcement, giddy almost.

There's a part of me that thinks she's actually happy for me. If she was really Frankie's friend, Frankie might have told her of my crisis of faith, of my own doubts as to my future in the profession. If so, then maybe she's happy that I made it out.

But out to what? Do I have a job waiting? No. Am I sure about what I want to do? No. Am I even sure that I won't return to the classroom in September of '97, having missed the kids and knowing fully and forever that I love the job? No.

The only thing I am sure of is that I won't return if I don't miss it, if I'm not in love with teaching again. I won't return for a paycheck. Change is difficult. And in a sense, I'm forcing the change. But I know that if I didn't, I would never do it, and I'd become the kind of teacher I always despised, if I haven't already.

No, I haven't already (and it's not just denial talking). I'm stepping back (not getting out) in time. And Joan and everyone else (especially those who congratuated me and told me they wished they could do what I'm doing) should be happy for me about that.

Even Frankie.