Schoolville: Chapter Eight
“The effective teacher goes to professional meetings ready to learn.”
Harry Wong (The First Days of School)
Chapter Eight
Day four of my preparation week came with another faculty meeting. It began in the library at 8:00 a.m. After grabbing a cup of nasty tasting coffee, I sat with Joan and Carmen, my two new-teacher friends from district training.
“How can they expect us to accomplish such a list of special ed. modifications?” Carmen angrily demanded of Joan, who shrugged.
“I’m gonna get some advice.”
I just sipped my metallic-tasting coffee and tried to wake up. Bob Harriman walked up and sat next to me. Leaning back, he smiled energetically and punched me in the shoulder. “Remember what I said yesterday about faculty meetings?”
“Yeah.”
“See that stack of papers up on the table?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, better bend over, because here it comes.”
Joan and Carmen both scowled at Bob, who took the hint and changed the subject.
“Last year, we nicknamed these faculty meetings, “Entmoots”. It’s a perfect name for them, given the similarity of the mind-altering, butt-numbing blather sessions that are supposed to pass as faculty meetings.
“They’re that bad?” I asked.
“You’ll see, young’un.” Then he looked over at the depressed look on my face. “Are you going to survive?”
I shrugged.
“What is a person like that doing in charge, Bob?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Gage.”
“Mr. Gage isn’t in charge here, Sara Getty is the one in charge! In fact, after this week I’d be surprised if you even see Mr. Gage until the Christmas party.”
Looking around the room, it was easy for me to image what a rockin’ good time that Christmas party would be.
“Alright then, what kind of leadership can we expect from Sara Getty?”
“None whatever!” He positively beamed now.
“So, why is she in charge of the school?”
He laughed. “Well that’s easy. It’s because she’s the boss.”
Looking over, he must have noticed my confusion.
He thought for a moment, and then asked. “How many years were you in the Army?”
“Four years on active duty.”
“Four years!” He thought for a minute as he sipped his coffee. “What were those managers like?”
“Some were good, others weren’t.”
“How did someone reach higher managerial status in the army?”
“Huh?”
“How did they rise in rank?” Bob clarified.
“In the military, you got promoted by time in service and time in grade.”
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“Right, that was the service! Did you ever read that book by Dr. Benjamin Peters?” He prompted me.
“Are you talking about The Peter Principle?”
“Yep! That’s the one! Do you remember? You rise to your level of incompetence, and there you stay.”
“I remember.”
“You spent twenty years in the pharmaceutical industry. How were those bosses?”
“A few were idiots, but most were fine bosses. Some of ’em were amazing!”
“Ok. So, what is the difference?”
I sipped my coffee, and shrugged.
He interjected. “Didn’t they first have to demonstrate that they had managerial skills? Didn’t they also have to demonstrate that they had people skills? Lastly, didn’t they actually have to demonstrate success for the organization before anyone ever promoted them?”
“Yes, you are right, unless they were the boss’s kid, or something. So, what’s different here?”
Most managers learn interpersonal skills to bring out the best in their employees, or at least not hinder them, right?”
“Yep. Good help is hard to find. It’s not a hard concept to grasp!”
“Sara’s the only one with the master’s degree in educational leadership. Since we aren’t a wealthy district, she doesn’t need to have a doctorate in education, just a master’s degree in Ed. leadership.”
I almost spewed my coffee onto the floor. “But Bob, all that shows is that she is a good student. That doesn’t demonstrate competence in managing an organization.”
“AAAAHHHH yes! Now you understand!”
“It’s that simple?” I asked him, suspecting that he was bullshitting me. B.D. was nodding in agreement though, so I continued to listen to Bob.
“…and there has to be an opening, and you have to spend a number of years kissing ass at the assistant principal level.” Bob added quickly.
I didn’t know what to say. “Gee…thanks for explaining, I think.”
He smiled his broad smile and replied, “Anytime! Always glad to help!”
B.D. was quick to put all of this into perspective. He liked to parody Kung Fu, so he used his ‘wise man from the east’ voice.
“And that, grasshopper, explains why you fail…” he said. “You expect this to be like a successful organization, and run with the same competencies as any other successful organization. You and Nedermeyer both fantasize that this is a business.”
I didn’t feel complimented being lumped in with Dr. Nedermeyer. But, since I said nothing, B.D. continued. “Except this isn’t a business model, or even a successful organization. This is a running boil on the ass of the taxpayers.”
“What’s your point B.D?”
“Well Toto, you ain’t in Kansas anymore!” I noticed he was now switching metaphors. “You’re in an organization that has no management structure to help it perform its mission of education, just a support structure to keep the doors open, and the managers in power. The management is only interested in maintaining enough power to stay in management. They only want to be in management because they sure as hell don’t want to be in a classroom anymore. And, they want to stay there until they are eligible for retirement under the State Retirement System, so they never have to teach again. That Toto, is where you are now!”
I quietly sipped my coffee, and didn’t bother to reply, so he concluded. “And that is why you won’t make it as a teacher. You’re not like them. You never will be like them. You’re a foolish idealist. You really believe you are here to teach, rather than maintain them in power.” Then after awhile he added, “You don’t fit in. You never will fit in. You expect success. For Sara Getty, success is compliance.”
“Only compliance?”
“Yep!”
We both sipped our coffee for a little, and then he quietly added, almost as an afterthought. “The bigger question is: Do you really want to fit in?”
“Well Geez B.D. You’re a real cheerful son-of-a-bitch this morning, aren’t you?” He looked at me and then extended his middle finger. I got his meaning.
Mrs. Getty’s skills were bringing out the worst in everyone. Sara Getty’s people skills weren’t just bad, they were subtractive; they were retrograde skills. My maturity level was going in reverse.
It suddenly became glaringly obvious how insightful B.D. was. I hadn’t quit a lucrative pharmaceutical job to become her glorified babysitter. I was there because I wanted to teach. Sara Getty and I were at Wilson High for two entirely, and mutually exclusive reasons. My vision was that the students were there to learn and grow. Glancing through the hall window, we both noticed that Sara was in the hall, so we knew that she would march in and the Entmoot would begin.
We both quickly moved to seats far from the front, and zoned out. I didn’t need to pay attention anymore. I had already figured out that this meeting was not meant for my benefit. It was to insure that the parents of the minority, lesbian, special ed., left-footed, place kicker for the water polo team, whose special education modifications I had somehow overlooked, or couldn’t comply with didn’t sue the district, but sued me instead. The district could prove that they had told me the proper modifications to use, should anyone ever end up in court. They could prove it because the attendance sheet was being passed around. I would sign it, and thus it was proved I was there.
Glancing at my watch, it was 8:30 A.M. on the dot. Joan, who noticed my action, nodded.
“It’s gonna be a long time ’til lunch.”
“You got that right!” Bob leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
