Chapter Four: Send In the Clowns

Chapter 4: Send in the Clowns . . . they’re already here
Or
Good Help is Hard to Find


Summertime… but the living isn’t easy. I have started my new job. The students are off for the summer, but my staff and I are at school. I feel the incredible pressure of the ticking clock, I have a 16 page “to do” list and only two months before school begins in the first week of August to accomplish all my “pre-opening” goals. Step one is staffing. In the beginning there are nine members of my so-called teaching staff:

• Stephanie and Cherill haven’t been to college.
• Gus and Tracy, (who strangely is also known as Paul), have taken some classes but are not college graduates.
• Stone’s BA degree in Divinity and Rusty’s MA in social work may make them eligible to be certified teachers, but they haven’t applied for certification.
• Rosie, Dede and Clint are certified teachers, except Clint let his certification lapse and needs to reapply and Dede’s is at risk of not getting renewed.

In addition, Rosie and Dede are certified to teach elementary school but have been teaching middle school. Cherill is listed as a bus driver on the budget worksheet I was given. I re-categorize her as driver and deal with her as such. Stephanie expresses enthusiasm about the new orientation program I am developing. It permits incoming students to spend at least one week and often more, in a separate Orientation classroom learning the rules and procedures of our school. I make Stephanie the Orientation Leader.

Hello-Goodbye TracyPaul

TracyPaul is a middle aged black woman who scowls and mutters whenever she sees me. When I ask one of the staff about her two names, I am told, by way of an explanation, that she is gay. The morning in May when I first meet her, TracyPaul arrives over 45 minutes late. More surprising is when she prepares to leave at 2:00. The school day ends at 4:00. “I have another job,” TracyPaul tells me, another full-time job as a supervisor for a recreation center. Mel, my predecessor, permitted her to leave two hours early every day with no impact on her pay. TracyPaul and I need to talk. TracyPaul tells me she speaks for the whole staff: “When we got you as principal we feel we just got the shit end of the stick.” Surely she means “short.” I tell TracyPaul I expect her at 8:00 sharp tomorrow and she may not depart until 4:00. Any questions? No? good. TracyPaul leaves at 4:00. She does not return at 8:00 am, she doesn’t return ever. I send her a certified letter of termination for job abandonment.

Hello-Goodbye Gus

Gus is a muscular, thick, young white man with a sunburn. He laughs easily and considers himself the unofficial spokesman for the faculty. He calls a protest meeting on my third day at school. He demands shorter working days and a four-day work week. Gus and I meet one-on-one. Gus is not a certified teacher; he hasn’t completed his college degree. He boldly admits he is not a good teacher.

“Then why should I keep you on my teaching staff Gus?”

“Because I’m a redneck and I know how things work ‘round here. You need me more’n I need you. I work construction full-time; I don’t need this job.”

Gus does not go quietly into the night. He lasts nearly three weeks then he disappears at noon on a Monday. Rumor mill says he went to his construction job. We speak on Tuesday: leaving at noon is not okay Gus. But again he goes to lunch and doesn’t return. On Wednesday, following the second incident, I escalate from discussion to “If you don’t return after lunch today you will be removed from the payroll.” Gus very loudly and very close to my face shouts, “Are you saying you’re firing me? Go ahead and say it so I can get my unemployment.” He leaves again at noon. When he comes in Thursday, I give him a letter saying he is off the payroll for job abandonment. Gus tears up the letter, throws it in the trash, kicks the can and walks to the parking lot where he shouts to his peers and anyone else within hearing range, that I will regret his departure.

Somehow I doubt it.


Hello-Goodbye Clint

Clint, a middle-aged white man, is scattered and disorganized. Every unfinished project or half-baked proposal piled on my desk is covered with Clint’s fingerprints. I am working to clean up the remains of several messes Clint started and neglected: an anti-drug grant, a promotional fund raising pamphlet, boxes of cheap toys for a school store, a dilapidated greenhouse full of pots of weeds. Clint’s peers don’t like him much. They tell me he won’t shut up in meetings, is a know it all and not a team player. They share gossip with me about Clint’s extramarital affair with a woman he met in France; his long distance Parisian phone calls from the school phone, (charged to the school), her phone calls and postcards at work (to keep his secret from his wife who apparently already knows).

But when I first visited Prospect, I had the opportunity to observe Clint in his classroom, and he is a good teacher! He has classroom management skills and instructs lessons. He cares about his students and knows how to teach. I am confident I can limit Clint’s pontification in meetings, stop his international calls and not assign him responsibility for special projects. Clint’s passion for teaching and his knowledge of effective behavior modification techniques make him a keeper. But Clint has a problem: he has his own travel business where he arranges tours of Europe. Given his organizational skills I am not surprised when he tells me tales of losing tickets, missing flights and irate clients. But to run his business, he needs summers off. I am unable to approve this because his job description, like those for all the teaching and counseling staff, is for a twelve-month position. I tell him I will work on changing this, but I can’t promise I will be successful. Clint says he understands, then resigns two days before school opens. He has been hired by the Avenue School, another Alternative School in town. Before he leaves I overhear Clint referring to me as “The Witch.”

Hello-Goodbye Dede

Dede is a thirty-something white female who gives blondes a bad name. Last April, she and her spouse-to-be flew to Nevada for a Vegas wedding. Dede complains to me about how her new husband has burdened her with all the responsibility for his nine-year old son (from a former marriage) and she doesn’t know the first thing about being a mother and she resents having to oversee the morning routine, arrange childcare, take calls from his summer camp program and on and on.

Dede tells me she doesn’t want to teach any of the students she taught last year. They know too much about her personal life since she just had to share all the details about her love life, her wedding and her honeymoon with her students.

Dede is high maintenance.

Dede whines that her permanent certification is at risk of not being renewed because her in-service classes weren’t reported to the state certification office. I remind her this is her responsibility. No, she informs me, one of the “special projects” Clint developed was to be “Curriculum Specialist.” I talk to Dede about how we can overcome her problem, but she wants to vent and blame Clint. All summer Dede is focused on her elusive in-service credits. She requests permission to attend every in-service possible to substitute for her missing credits. I approve them all. One day, when no in-services are scheduled, I ask Dede to brainstorm songs, plays and art projects related to the theme of Florida history. I suggest she may want to go to the public library or talk to her peers for ideas. After eight hours of work I meet with Dede. When I ask to see her list, I get nothing. Dede what did you accomplish today? “Why I cleaned out and organized the supply closet.”

On Monday there is an in-service on Grant Writing. I decide to attend my first in-service. Dede is registered as well. But Dede never shows. On Tuesday I ask her why. Her stepson was ill and she stayed home with him. But you didn’t call me. She shrugs as though I am making a new and bizarre policy. On Thursday, payday, Dede loudly enters my office demanding to know why she wasn’t paid for Monday. I remind her of her absence from Grant Writing. “Well,” she explains, “I was working at home.” She goes on to say that while caring for her sick stepson, she was also organizing all the paperwork needed to file her in-service credits to keep her certification current. Dede launches into a lengthy diatribe about how none of this is her fault, it is all Clint’s fault, and now she needs a college course to renew her certification and the classes she wants meet at 11:00 am. I calmly reply that since her work hours are 8:00-4:00 that won’t work, I suggest an evening or weekend course. She insists those won’t work for her because of her new parenting responsibilities. Then, clearly outraged, she shouts at me “Are you telling me I have to take a class when it’s convenient with YOU?”

We run our first parent orientation at night. Everyone stays an hour or so late for this event. The following day Dede informs me she will be leaving early to “use” the hour she worked at orientation. I explain when you are a salaried employee it doesn’t work that way, but if she ever needs to leave early - medical appointment, sick child etc. I will be reasonable. Dede is angry, she feels she earned a “free” hour.

I am making the two hour drive home from another mandatory meeting at Ebencorp Headquarters in Tampa, (Ebencorp is the private company that runs Prospect Schools), when my cell phone rings. Lynne, my business manager, provides the play-by-play of the opera of three teachers: Dede and Stone teamed up on Rusty and said nasty things to him. Rusty is crying.

Back at school I meet with Dede about the incident. “I didn’t tell Rusty to his face that he is worthless and besides he is worthless, so I shouldn’t be in trouble.” I give Dede a written warning. Dede begins to cry and says she needs the rest of the morning off. I remind her we have another parent orientation this afternoon at 1:00. Dede arrives at 12:30 as we are setting up chairs and putting out refreshments. She tells me she must speak with me immediately. Dede resigns. School opens tomorrow.

And All the Rest

So, my veteran teachers, as I start my first school year, are Rosie, Rusty and Stone. Rosie and Rusty both have Master’s Degrees, Rusty’s is in Social Work, Rosie’s is in Counseling. They both want to be out of the classroom and would like positions as counselors. Stone (a true southerner, his full name is Stonewall, as in Jackson) wants to be a Baptist minister but he doesn’t have a flock. I am guessing his sermons are of the “You’re all goin’ to hell” variety. He hates teaching, he tells me, and furthermore he applied for my job before I was selected and he knows he could do it better.

Support (and unsupportive) Staff

In addition to the teaching faculty, I have five support staff: two counselors, a cafeteria manager, a transportation coordinator and a business manager who also functions as my secretary, receptionist and right hand woman.

Ernie and Stan are the counselors responsible for de-escalating troubled students and getting them back into class. All our students are troubled, so this is a little like doing triage in the Civil War – figure out who is least injured, stop the bleeding and get them back with their unit. Ernie is white and huge: both tall and wide. He has this innocent Miss Piggy moon face, blue eyes and a charming smile. He is full of stories, and I’m never sure what percent of them are true

The history of Ernie according to Ernie

Ernie grew up poor in the slums of Baltimore, the youngest of a tribe of brothers with an Irish, alcoholic, abusive father and a submissive Native American mother. Ernie stole food from the A&P to ward off starvation, taking milk and donuts from outside the store before it opened. He rarely went to school because his father beat him so badly he was embarrassed by the bruises and ashamed he didn’t have clean clothes. As a child he was sent to prison before age twelve and when he got out he called an aunt in Washington DC from a pay phone and she agreed to raise him. He didn’t learn to read until he met a preacher and found Jesus Christ, then he learned to read that very weekend and shortly thereafter he earned his GED. Ernie has a son in prison in Texas, an ex-wife in Gainesville, Florida and a gifted son in high school who just started living with him (the one who made him late today).

At least this is what Ernie says.

I have reason to be cynical about the authenticity of Ernie’s personal history; I learn his GED is a forgery. It is obvious he doesn’t read or write well, but when he talks, which he does quite often, his charisma shines though his grammatically jumbled sentences. Ernie wants to talk to me every day; he practices the humble servant routine telling me how much he supports me, but warns others are plotting my demise.

Counselor woes like dominoes

Before I have a chance to know him, Stan, the counselor who works with Ernie, resigns. Mel, my predecessor, allowed Stan to arrive at work 60-90 minutes late daily to get his children off to school, and to take off midday for golf games. When Stan learns I will not sanction such an arrangement, he tells me he intends to pursue a career in hand therapy. He is a pleasant man who apparently has never once been on time for work and never volunteers for a project; he makes himself scarce when there is work to be done. I select Rusty, currently a teacher, to fill the position of counselor. My choice angers both Rosie and Stone. Rosie, with her newly earned Master’s degree in counseling is desperate to get out of the classroom and Stone, the flockless Baptist Minister, wants any job except teacher. Of the three candidates, Rusty, with his Master’s Degree in Social Work and his almost magical rapport with students, is my choice for counselor.

Rusty: strange visitor from another planet

The students love Rusty; a sixty-something, wiry, black-Hispanic man whose real name in Lazarus. First impression: you expect him to ask for spare change. His clothes are faded, stained and ragged. He is missing teeth and those he has are yellow, crooked, badly broken or chipped. He is not in good health; he has cataracts and can’t read printed material unless it’s touching his nose. He has problems with his heart, stomach and bladder.

Rusty was hired by Mel, my predecessor. Initially I think Rusty is another of Mel’s mistakes, but the students love Rusty. They call him Grandpa and although they joke with him about being an old man, if a new student is rude to Rusty, the veteran students are quick to defend him.

Rusty never seems aware of what he looks like to others. But some days, seemingly for no reason at all, he dresses to the nines with a dress shirt, nice tie, jacket or sweater. On those days everyone compliments him on how nice he looks and he is very pleased. Rusty is never late for work and often stays an hour or two after the children leave. Rusty spends many hours every night calling students who were absent, students who had a bad day, a good day, an unusual day. He talks, they listen; they talk, he listens.

My only complaint about Rusty is that he SHOUTS. And when Rusty shouts, it’s so loud the words are distorted. I’m not a fan of shouting at students -increased volume should be used rarely and strategically. It takes me a while to realize Rusty isn’t shouting at the children in anger; Rusty has a speech impediment and is somewhat deaf. After a while I learn to decipher the words imbedded in his earsplitting, unusual language.

Rusty and I both worked for New York State’s Division for Youth (DFY). He in New York City, me in upstate NY. Rusty was a trainer for performing restraints. He also has a BA in Theology and an MSW from Fordham. I am told he was once a priest in New York. Despite his health problems, Rusty is full of energy, enthusiasm and rarely depressed. Every day I have a higher opinion of Rusty, his work ethic, his counseling skills and his ability to relate to our very difficult students. Rusty’s background, behavior and attitude make me feel confident about my decision to make Rusty a counselor.

Cafeteria Lady

At first I worry about Ruth since she is one of Mel’s relatives and makes frequent announcements about their family gatherings: “Rosie, at the barbeque yesterday Mel asked how you’re doing and he sends his love.” Moreover Ruth isn’t pleased when I cut her hours although she readily agrees that the cafeteria work can be accomplished in five hours. Mel used to “find things for her to do” so she could work an eight hour day. But Ruth, who is sixty-something, clearly appreciates my desire to have employees arrive on time as well as my efforts to schedule and include her in regular staff meetings. Most days Ruth arrives early and stations herself by the front door of my portable and in a stage whisper, informs her tardy coworkers they are late.

Lynne and Shasta keep hope alive

Lynne, my business manager, and Shasta, my transportation coordinator, are both white women who were born and raised in Florida. Neither went to college, but Lynne received a better education than Shasta. From the mouth of Shasta come unconjugated verbs, double negatives and colloquialisms; Shasta says she “didn’t do nothing but mind she’s a-fixin’ to do something.” Shasta is obese but has surgery scheduled to shrink her stomach and shorten her intestine. Shasta is thirty-something with one young son; Lynne is forty-something with two grown children. Although both Lynne and Shasta loved Mel and hated to see him leave (he was Lynne’s therapist and he is Shasta’s brother-in-law), they are starting to accept my presence, adopt my ideas and support the changes I am implementing. They even speak kindly about me to others when they don’t know I can hear!

I could not survive without my business manager, Lynne. She is much more than her title implies. Lynne can do several things at once – she inputs all student data in the Herald County public school database, answers phones, talks to parents dropping off or picking up children and she reads email – forwarding urgent items directly to me. When I need help with a grant or other project, Lynne gets me the information before I finish explaining my needs. After talking to an angry, abusive parent (and we have many), feeling frustrated and defeated, I turn to Lynne. Lynne has become my confidante, sounding board, trusted advisor and friend. Lynne is a buffer between me and the poison dart throwers. She knows to whom she should say, “Kathleen is in a meeting” and when to say it. She keeps all our conversations confidential, even when I am unprofessionally venting about staff members with whom she is friendly. Lynne absorbs my angst and reminds me I am not insane. Without Lynne, insane is what I would quickly become. I do worry about our relationship though. As her boss I may have to correct or discipline her; between friends it can get strange fast.

Shasta, Coordinator of Transportation, Health and Safety, and I have fewer opportunities to talk, but her value to Prospect School is enormous. Her days are long and filled with transportation challenges including supervising drivers, keeping the busses in running order, adhering to the maintenance schedule, dealing with parents angry about bus issues and punishing children who misbehave on the bus. As my health and safety coordinator Shasta is also busy dispensing medication, separating the ill from the hypochondriacs then phoning home for the former and counseling the latter. Shasta’s secret wish is to go to college. I keep urging her to do so. She made some inquiries, took some tests and was frustrated to learn she would need to take a pre-English and pre-math class before she could enroll in a college level class.

Shasta is a humble superhero - she never talks about her feats of wonder. Shasta drives over an hour into The Forest on Sunday mornings to pick up a student who asked to attend her church. She gives her home phone number to students in abusive homes; she has permitted runaway students to spend the night at her house. On more than one occasion Shasta has brought food to homes with empty cupboards. Shasta has volunteered to transport children when doing so meant giving up her evenings or days off. Whatever I ask, Shasta says yes. I am careful not to ask too much, especially when I hear her marriage is dissolving and her son is struggling in school.

Diminishing Expectations

I need to hire some teachers! I put advertisements on Monster and Teach-in-Florida.com. After I read an applicant’s resume, I do a phone screening to determine whether I want to schedule a face-to-face interview. Most of my phone screenings are done in my apartment at night since I have had my hands full with Dedes, Clints and TracyPauls during the day. I develop standard questions to ask each candidate. When I ask, “what book would you read to a classroom of at-risk middle school students?” most applicants don’t have a clue as to what would be a good book. One says “that’s a trick question” another “congratulations, that is the first time I heard that question.” This is not a game show, I am not trying to stump anyone but I am amazed that so many people who want to teach young adolescents can’t name an appropriate book.

I talk with a man who thinks Thoreau’s Walden would be a good book to read to at-risk middle schoolers. Why do you want this job? He wants to reunite with his estranged daughter who lives in Lakeboro. After the Thoreau call, I speak with a man who lives in southern Florida and may want to commute to Lakeboro and stay here Monday through Friday. He is anxious to teach in Lakeboro because his passion is slaughterhouses and there is a slaughterhouse on the outskirts of Lakeboro. I speak with a woman who thinks The Three Pigs would be a perfect story to read aloud to my middle schoolers. She describes lessons in science on pigs, having the students draw pictures of pigs, add and subtract pigs and sing songs about pigs.

I interview a husband/wife team from Texas. Both are experienced, certified teachers who have worked with low income, disruptive kids and they want to relocate to Florida. They are enthusiastic and call me several times with questions about housing, schools, etc. We set up face-to-face interviews. They call the morning of the interviews. They decide they aren’t ready to leave Texas. Maybe next year.

I call a reference on a woman, Mandi, who seems like she might be an okay teacher. When I speak to her former boss, he tells me he wouldn’t hire Mandi to teach his dog.

Late into the night I conduct phone-screening interviews, doing west coast people after 9:00 when it is still light in the Pacific Time zone. I have a promising lead in New Mexico and a less promising possibility in California. I talk with a retired couple from Leesburg, Florida. They are positive and gung-ho on the phone but when they see my campus they suddenly remember a job opportunity in North Carolina. I talk to a teacher from New Jersey who keeps referring to his students as Mulattos.

When I conduct face-to-face interviews I try to get another teacher to join me. When that isn’t possible, Lynne, my trusty business manager, eavesdrops and post interview gives me her opinion. I’ve only known Lynne for a few weeks, but I trust her instincts.

Ivan really wants to teach at my school. He has been a “business man” in Sausalito, CA for several years but recently “came into some money” and now he wants to teach. He once taught in the southwest. I have the impression peyote was involved. He is enthusiastic but doesn’t seem to know much about education or children. Gertie is from upstate NY and bonds with me about working for DFY (the Division for Youth). She is a teacher in a prison. She brings me an armful of documents including her most recent appraisal that is not particularly complimentary - she lost keys and didn’t have control in the classroom. Gertie is jittery during the interview and lingering cigarette fumes waft from her. She keeps talking and talking, interrupting herself and losing her topic sentences under mounds of ill-chosen words. Lynne, my business manager, walks by my office rolling her eyes.

I do not hire Ivan or Gertie. Later I learn that Rocky, the principal of Ebencorp’s alternative high school in town, ESAK (Ebencorp School for At-risk Kids), interviewed and hired Gertie after I interviewed and rejected her. Several weeks later, he had to fire her when she left her purse, with car keys and cigarettes unattended in her classroom. Rocky tells me candidly that he fired her because “she was nuts.”

I interview Neeley from Key West and LaRon from Palm Beach. Neeley is working as a reporter for a newspaper; previously he taught troubled students in Connecticut. He is 23 years old. His former supervisor tells me he remembers Neeley as an affable young man but that when Neeley worked for him, right out of college, he didn’t always know how to set limits with the students. He feels certain Neeley has grown and matured and learned from this experience.

LaRon hasn’t taught but he would like to and he is eligible for certification. Both Neeley and LaRon are due to start two days before the students arrive. They pass background checks although LaRon has had quite a few traffic infractions. Two days before school starts, Neeley arrives with holes in his clothes; LaRon doesn’t arrive at all.

Why isn’t the vetting process working better? Why am I spending precious time conducting face-to-face interviews with people I should have eliminated based on phone interviews?

Can the Scientist become a Teacher?

Tammie is a scientist. She is a twenty-something white woman with a degree in biology and some experience with tutoring. She tells me she is a single parent, wants to teach children, and her ex-husband is a professor at the University of Florida. We talk about hands-on science experiments and I hire her despite her lack of teaching credentials. I believe her enthusiasm and knowledge about science will be an asset for my students. I feel like it’s cool to have a real scientist on my team.

Hello-Goodbye MaryEllen

MaryEllen wants to be a teacher. She just completed her degree and has applied for certification. She has done some teaching with inmates in the prison. She is a single parent, loves kids and is very enthusiastic about teaching. She thinks a good book to read to middle schoolers is The Outsiders. Her background check comes back clean. She is hired and handed keys to her classroom. She comes in early and stays late. The day before school opens, as Dede is resigning, I get a call from Horace, the Director of Personnel in the Herald County Schools Personnel Office. Although the initial background check on MaryEllen came back clean, apparently there is an outstanding warrant for her arrest. Horace knows nothing more; he suggests I contact the Sheriff. I run the orientation meeting with a sick stomach. MaryEllen - a criminal?! I call the Sheriff after the orientation. The warrant is for Sexual Misconduct Felony. The warrant has been out there for two years. I know from the background check that MaryEllen has been at the same address and same job for over two years, why didn’t they find her? The Sheriff tells me they didn’t know where she was. Now they do and they are on their way to arrest her. They don’t want me to tip her off. So I hold my afternoon staff meeting as usual. A knock on the door, I speak with the Sheriff and ask MaryEllen to step outside and join us. Out of sight of the other teachers she is handcuffed and taken to the squad car. She is frightened and sobbing, she seems genuinely confused as to why this is happening and is desperately worried about her three-year-old daughter. Standing under the portico on the sidewalk outside the classrooms, watching one of my teachers led away in handcuffs is not how I hoped to begin the school year.

MaryEllen’s attorney calls me with “the rest of the story.” Over two years ago, when MaryEllen was working at the prison, one of the inmates accused her of molesting him. Her attorney tells me he is sure he can get the whole thing dropped. But my contract with the school says if a teacher has ever been arrested for a felony I cannot hire her: it doesn’t say “convicted”, it says “arrested.”


Hello Noreen . . . but perhaps goodbye?

Noreen is a math teacher. A certified, experienced math teacher! She taught for several years in Indiana and has wonderful, creative lessons and ideas. We discuss a string art project for geometry, m&m math and a classroom currency. She is bubbly and spunky. I feel like I just hit the jackpot.

Just before school opens Noreen makes a confession to counselor Ernie and he dutifully informs me; Noreen has a criminal record. She stole money when she was teaching in Indiana. It was a misdemeanor but she is still on probation. It was money the school collected for a fundraiser. I read and reread my contract. Can I hire her? There is some gray area here.

I try to call Noreen’s former principal but he is in the military in Afghanistan. I contact her probation officer. She doesn’t know Noreen well since she recently moved here from Indiana. She advises me not to let Noreen handle any money.

Horace, the personnel director for the public schools, calls to tell me under no circumstances can Noreen teach. He’s fairly brusque. I feel sick. Noreen is my best teacher, my only real teacher who wants to teach. Henry, my friendly public school liaison calls me to reiterate Horace’s message. It is her status of “on probation.” She would never be permitted to teach in the public schools here so.... I read section 10, page 3 of my contract again and again. My eyes are not focusing and the words start to blur.

My eyes are worse when I am tired and stressed; I am in denial about needing reading glasses.

Must I learn all my lessons the hard way? I promise myself to never again hire a prospective teacher until a thorough background check is completed, and I will read between the lines in the formal application. In my desperation to staff my school I cut corners and now I am paying the price. I will not make this mistake again.

I call the judge who adjudicated Noreen in Indiana. Noreen impressed everyone there with her mea culpa post crime and her hard work to make restitution but he warns me that many of her former coworkers felt very deceived by Noreen. I am working to gather information to make a case for Horace and Henry to keep Noreen. They are willing to meet with me on the third day of school. I give Noreen the first two days of school off (without a clean background check she can’t be in the classroom). On the third day of school I meet with Henry, Horace and Horace’s boss, Raylin. I make my case and after much deliberation, they decide Noreen can stay! I am ecstatic. I phone Noreen enroute home and she is thrilled. Noreen buys me a plant to thank me for my support.

I team Tammie (the scientist), Noreen (the teacher with a felony conviction) and Neeley (the very young Key West journalist cum English teacher with the holes in his t-shirts). They call themselves the dream team.

Here is what I’m optimistic about: Tammie, Noreen and Neeley.
Here is what I worry about: Tammie, Noreen and Neeley.

A Liaison and a Mentor

Henry is not my boss, yet in many ways I am accountable to him. Henry is the Director of Student Services for Herald County Public Schools. He is in charge of Special Education, Home Schooling and Alternative Education. Part of his job is to hammer out the contract with private corporations such as Ebencorp to provide alternative schooling to Herald County’s most troubled students.

Henry is demanding but he provides suggestions and support. An atmosphere of mutual respect quickly develops. Henry, like me, is a runner. He has run many marathons and shares tips with me as I train for my first. His office walls are covered with photos of his five children and awards from his many races. Henry is well educated and values education. Henry’s job is to manage the Prospect contract and in this capacity, he represents the interests of the Herald County public school system – a system that has chosen to contract out services for their most difficult children in order to save money. I understand the potential conflict of interests, but Henry regularly expresses his joy at working with me and draws complimentary parallels between me and Mel, my predecessor. He frequently compliments me on the academically rigorous program I am developing. Intoxicated by Henry’s compliments, I tend to minimize our differences and avoid disagreements. Henry does insist that every mandate in our twenty-six-page contract be met, this includes regular meetings I must attend. One such meeting is the monthly meeting for all principals in Herald County including those in public, charter and contract schools.

In the beginning I grumble about attending these two to three hour monthly meetings. With my volatile staff, anything that takes me off campus jeopardizes the smooth running of my school. But I quickly come to appreciate the value of the Herald County principal meetings. Unlike the Ebencorp meetings, the agendas here are robust and fast-paced. There is a sense that we are all busy professionals and wasting our time would demonstrate an unacceptable lack of respect. At every meeting I learn about new initiatives and programs in the pipeline that impact me, my faculty and my students. I learn the nuances of the Federal Law known as “No Child Left Behind” and precautions to be taken when the national alert level is raised. Although I am not an employee of the public schools, I am treated as a peer by the other principals. The opportunity to mingle with principals discussing mutual challenges and students, proves to be a valuable benefit. Best of all, it is at my first principal meeting that I am introduced to middle school principal Rex Stewart.

Rex is my first real mentor. When I worked at Verizon there were formal programs to find mentors and mentorees. These relationships always felt to be artificial as people were assigned somewhat randomly. In this mentoring situation, I select Rex. Rex is the principal at King Middle School, the middle school nearest my campus. He is responsible for the education of over 1200 middle school students and he supervises 80 full-time teachers. Rex has worked for over thirty years in the Herald County Public School System, 18 years as a principal. His district boundaries include some of the poorest neighborhoods in Herald County. When I first meet Rex I am impressed by his caring and concern not only for his students but also for my students. I am in awe of Rex’s knowledge, enthusiasm and experience. When I rave to Henry, my public school liaison, about Rex, Henry suggests I ask Rex to mentor me. I do and he agrees. In addition to frequent phone calls, we schedule monthly breakfast meetings. I learn more at those pre-dawn meals than I have in any graduate course. I become a much better principal under Rex’s tutelage.

We have to stop meeting like this…

As June and July race toward August and opening day, I feel trapped in a wild, chaotic vortex. For my sanity, and to present a calm image to my team, I try to impose a sense of predictability and order on our summer days. I schedule staff meetings. At 8:00 every morning I stand before a wall of disgruntled faces for our fifteen-minute daily meeting. My team hates these morning meetings - mostly because the meeting means you have to arrive on time. This is not part of the Prospect culture. Maybe it’s a Florida thing. A friend sent me an email entitled “You know you’re in Florida when…” and one item says: “you don’t have to wear a watch because it doesn’t matter what time it is.” Then again maybe it’s just my team. They believe coming in at 8:25 is close enough to 8:00. I explain, cajole, plead, then end up doing formal discipline for tardiness.

After a few weeks of this, my team starts to arrive by 8:00. But they still grumble. They grumble less on Fridays. I always bring in treats on Fridays -chocolate donuts are quite popular.

My morning meeting audience consists of veteran teachers Rosie and Stone, my two counselors, Ernie and now Rusty, my new hires: Tammie, Noreen and Neeley, along with my support staff: Lynne the business manager, Stephanie the orientation leader, Ruth the cafeteria manager and Shasta the coordinator of transportation, safety and health. The folks who were here last year never miss a chance to tell me how they used to do things and how much better things were before I showed up. My predecessor, Mel, was their hero. He was their friend, counselor, relative and neighbor. He was laid back and didn’t set high expectations for his staff (or students) and he was never demanding. He accepted tardiness, early departures and extra days off. Clearly I am not Mel.

I talk to my team about my goals for the school. I want them to share my dreams. I describe a school where our students achieve academically and get excited about learning. I want our team to create a community of learners, a school that is a safe, warm, nurturing place. I want to implement a formal curriculum to help students with anger control and moral reasoning. I describe multi-grade classrooms, meaningful homework assignments, family literacy projects including a daily newspaper for every student to bring home, extended school days, teaming teachers to work together in “houses”, monthly parent events and activity periods. But the school I describe is not the sort of school Prospect has ever been. Especially considering former principal Mel was a counselor, not an educator.

My team does not share my goals. At worst, their objective is simply to work less for more pay. At best some of them believe my focus on academics is foolhardy; they feel these students need counseling, punishment and sports.

In desperation I break out a team bonding game I learned from an HR director in telecommunications. At first it seems to work. As people select and show cards describing themselves, productive discussions ensue. Slowly it occurs to me that my employees are bonding with each other, but not with me. I am still, in former teacher Clint’s words, “a witch.” This is new territory for me. In my previous jobs, my employees regularly rated me an excellent boss and I am usually fairly persuasive. I dig deep to harness all my charm and charisma but I don’t make a dent in the hostility emanating from my faculty. I worry the negativity from the “veteran” employees will taint my new hires. It has been hard enough to find, screen and hire new teachers I really don’t want to bring them aboard to join a dysfunctional, dour team.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe it would be so difficult to find just a few good teachers. But somewhere between the screamers, schemers and quitters a few champions did arrive or in some cases, evolve. These heroes, through small acts of kindness and generosity, fought the tide of apathy, cynicism and hopelessness that surrounded and threatened to drown my students. These dollops of cream floated vulnerably in a pot of curdled milk. I tried to nurture them while containing or removing the soured bits.

During my 18 months as principal, I hired more than thirty teachers. Some lasted a week, some a month, some a year. Only two outlasted me. But I am getting ahead of myself. School in Florida starts in August and before school can start, we have to get the students here.