Chapter 24: The Last Day of the First Quarter
In many ways, the last day of my first academic quarter is fairly typical of my Prospect days. It is filled with joy, sadness, helplessness, frustration, incredulousness, and pure anger. I wonder, do all principals go through this every day?
8:00 a.m.
Clyde, the boss of The Boss, sends an email requiring all five Prospect Schools to send a student to speak to hundreds of people at the annual Ebencorp convention in two weeks. It will be held about 80 miles south of our school on a school holiday. I scramble. Together, my staff and I come up with the names of six students. Five scratch. Only Darius says yes, but his foster mother won’t transport. Shasta to the rescue. She and bus driver Ellie volunteer to take Darius to the convention on their day off. Rusty spends hours with Darius working on his speech: “How Prospect changed me.” Darius practices with anyone who will listen. I want to go to the convention to hear him, but The Boss has other ideas. I am to attend an Ebencorp training on the Ebencorp way of counseling children. I later learn that despite Clyde’s mandate, we were the only Prospect school to send a student and that Darius did an incredible job. I hear indirectly that Clyde is pleased.
9:30 a.m.
Stone has a student who would like to speak with me about her change of address. It is Chloe, a girl who has been living with her sister and stepmother since her father went to jail. In the cool of my office Chloe explains that she and her sister had an argument and Chloe smashed the windshield on her sister’s car with a rock and although the man from DCF promised it wouldn’t happen, Chloe has been forced to move back with her mother. “Ms. Smee I know it doesn’t seem like it, but when I get mad I have an awful temper.” Chloe thinks I will be astonished by this admission believing I can’t see beyond the ”good girl” image she tries to project. She says it isn’t so horrible, living with her mother, but she is tired of her mother telling her she wishes that instead of having Chloe, she’d had an abortion.
Brock’s probation officer asks to see me. He feels Brock is getting into too much trouble here; he cites the marijuana arrest. He has arranged to transfer Brock to ESAK, the alternative high school. I disagree with his rationale and decision, but his mind is made up. Brock reveals no emotion when he is told the news. Goodbye Brock.
11:00 a.m.
A pizza delivery car is stopping at Noreen’s portable. I go investigate. Noreen tells me she ordered pizza for her class to celebrate the end of the quarter. She didn’t ask first for permission nor did she inquire as to whether there is money in the budget, I wonder whether she will request reimbursement. She doesn’t. I hear a rumor Noreen charged her class for the pizzas. Noreen says the students wanted pizza and they brought in their own money. It was their idea. What about the children who don’t have money? Noreen doesn’t see this as an issue, those who did have money bought enough pizza for all. What about the prohibition against Noreen handling money? She says she never collected or handled it.
Noreen has perfected a wide-eyed innocent look. She doesn’t break eye contact or show any of the typical signs of lying even when I know she is not telling the truth. I tell her this must not happen again, either Noreen pays for pizza or the school pays in which case I need to know and approve in advance. Noreen changes the subject to discuss the rumor that one of the teachers is pregnant. Like so many adolescent girls, she counts on exchanging gossip and confidences to cement and repair relationships. When I don’t nibble, she offers me a piece of pizza.
11:30 a.m.
Selma tells her teacher, Daphne, that her stepfather sexually abuses her. Daphne tells Selma she’ll have to tell DCF. Selma isn’t thrilled but when DCF comes to the school to interview her, Selma says she is willing to talk to them if Daphne stays in the room with her. The two DCF workers refuse to allow this. Daphne radios for my help. I explain what I thought should be obvious to the DCF workers: Selma feels safe with Daphne. The DCF workers grow angry and tell me that Selma has made this allegation before and that she is a liar. They say this in front of me, Daphne and Selma. I ask Daphne to take Selma out of the room so I can give the DCF workers a piece of my mind. When I am done, they storm off campus saying they’ll question Selma later.
12:15 p.m.
Daphne stops by my office to tell me about an incident in her classroom this morning involving Edgar. Edgar is a thirteen-year-old Hispanic boy in Daphne’s class. He was sent to Prospect for fighting. In the last twelve months he was suspended thirteen times from his public school for fighting. At Prospect, Edgar asks anyone who will listen for techniques to help him control his anger. With our limited counseling staff we have no ability to delve into the causes of Edgar’s huge reservoir of anger, although his parents’ acrimonious divorce proceedings are at least one likely explanation. Edgar seems so genuine about controlling his anger that Rusty, Daphne and I all spend time teaching him anger management techniques. We can actually see Edgar using these strategies and succeeding. After breakfast, Daphne’s class was sitting in a circle with the newspapers discussing current events. Timmy called Edgar “stupid” when he misread some words in his current events article. Edgar immediately leapt to his feet, face flushed and fists clenched. He took a step toward Timmy but stopped suddenly, closed his eyes, shook out and relaxed his hands and began to count backwards from 25. When he got to zero he sat down. Several students complimented Edgar and Timmy apologized!
12:30 p.m.
I finally meet Salina. She has been on our rolls but never attended school here. Salina was recently removed from her abusive family and is now living with a foster family more than 10 miles south of Prospect. She arrives for school this afternoon in flip flops claiming the bus didn’t pick her up and her foster mother told her to walk. Salina is a thirteen-year-old white girl with very short black hair. She tells me her feet are sore. I offer her a pair of my old sneakers and she is so appreciative I almost feel guilty. She tells me how comfortable they are and asks if they are just for today or if she can keep them. I tell her to keep them. She gives me a hug. Although she is wearing the requisite navy blue collared uniform shirt, it is very tight and barely meets her pants. I assume this is her choice – a tight, sexy, hip look, but I when I notice she keeps tugging at it, I ask if she would like a larger shirt. She nods. I dig through my pile of Goodwill shirts and find her one that is too big and again she is pleased. After Salina leaves my office I call her caseworker. The caseworker explains the DCF stipend for clothes is distributed only once a year and since Salina “entered the system” after that date, she missed it. Her foster family is not obliged or expected to buy her clothes without the stipend.
1:00 p.m.
Karla, who is one of our lowest readers, stops me on her way to PE. Daphne’s class is reading the new Carl Hiaasen book, Hoot. Rarely does the whole class read aloud together. Instead Daphne pairs students - good readers with poor - and lets them spread out on the carpet, under her desk and on the deck outside (with the door propped open). The pairs of students sit, each with a book. The competent reader reads most of the time so the story won’t be lost, but when the non-reader reads, the strong readers are patient and guiding. Daphne’s students are progressing well and everyone in her class loves reading time. Karla wants me to know she LOVES Hoot and she thanks me for buying copies for her class.
1:15 p.m.
The Boss arrives after lunch. His visit isn’t entirely unexpected: last week he sent me an email saying he would be here two days ago. When he didn’t show, I phoned. As usual, I reached his voice mail and heard nothing from him until today when he drives onto my campus shortly after 1:00. But before he comes to see me, he seeks out some of my staff members. After he talks to the first few, they come to my office reporting discomfort with the dialogue. It seems The Boss is asking each of my employees a single question: “What do you dislike about Kathleen and this school?” I can’t believe he would phrase it quite that way, but each teacher, counselor and support staff comes to see me repeating the same quote.
When RitaMae tells The Boss it is hard to find a punishment the children dislike, The Boss shares his secret for success: students should do manual labor. At his former school he made the “bad” students carry a 5 or 10 pound bucket of concrete in circles or scrub bricks with a toothbrush in the hot Florida sun or in the pouring rain. I am unclear as to whether this is the Ebencorp way or The Boss’s way. In my head, I debate whether the focus on punishment and the lack of interest in, or support for, academics is coming from Clyde (the boss of The Boss) and Ebencorp doctrine rather than from The Boss himself. I am hoping that if I see The Boss as merely the messenger, it might help improve my attitude towards him.
It is becoming increasingly apparent that my relationship with The Boss is not good and not getting better. I give my former Ebencorp boss, Stephen, a call at his new job in Chicago. He doesn’t have a lot of suggestions. He sighs and says he told Clyde he didn’t think The Boss was a good choice to replace him but…. He cautions me not to take this matter to Clyde; Clyde deplores people who whine to him. We chat for a while about Stephen’s new job and about running. When I hang up the disparity between the boss I had and the boss I have is painful to contemplate.
I am not the only person who is struggling with The Boss. When he was promoted, The Boss hired Lucy to replace him as principal in Naples. Lucy is a lot like me – we are passionate about our jobs and students and totally devoted to making our schools and students succeed. Lucy and I are both very busy and rarely have time to talk but when we do, we share tales about The Boss and ask each other for advice. We joke that as long as he is harassing one of us, the other can breathe more easily. Together Lucy and I try to understand The Boss. He’s not really a bully - school bullies tend to pick on their weaker classmates, but neither Lucy nor I is incompetent or lacking self-esteem. I hypothesize that The Boss could feel threatened by us and we may need to reassure him we don’t want his job. Maybe his lack of management experience means he doesn’t know how to supervise people. Lucy thinks The Boss picks on us because he likes to throw his weight around – that he is intoxicated by his new power. Whether it is power, football coach mentality or insecurity, we need to find a way to change the dynamics of our relationship with The Boss. Lucy decides she’ll go to Clyde despite my sharing with her the warning from former boss Stephen. I decide The Boss and I need a heart-to-heart talk. I begin to make some notes for a future discussion, a discussion I am dreading but know is necessary.
3:00 p.m.
In the morning meeting today I announced that in honor of this last day of the academic quarter, I will buy ice cream for every child in any class that can go all day without any discipline referrals (no walkie-talkie calls to a counselor). This announcement is met with moans: I’ve set an impossible objective. But at 3:00 I have to dash off to Publix Supermarket to make good on my deal and buy ice cream for both Midge’s elementary class and Daphne’s class: they tied with zero referrals. In addition, no one was arrested today. We joke about hanging a sign “___ days without an arrest.” Probably not a good idea for inspiration or attracting prospective parents, but it makes us chuckle and laughter is what helps us all survive.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Chapter Twenty-Three - Hey Bus Driver (again!)
Chapter 23- Hey Bus Driver
To my students, our busses are cleverly disguised sex nests. It can’t be the aroma: something between mildew, toe jam and dead rodent. More likely it is related to the lack of adult supervision. The driver’s eyes are on the road, while my students eyes are on each other. My students thrive on an audience of their peers for everything from class clowning to sex acts.
The students have all gone home for the day, but Shandon’s mother is on the phone and she is not pleased. She has been very active in and supportive of our school. She meets regularly with Daphne, Shandon’s teacher, she sends notes in response to teacher comments in Shandon’s planner and unlike most Prospect parents, she doesn’t curse in our presence. Daphne reports that Shandon’s mother sometimes seems to baby Shandon, treating him as if he were younger than his twelve years. Shandon is a slight, black, sixth grader who likes to joke around but is rarely a major behavior problem. We hope to send him back to public school at the end of the school year. This afternoon when he got off the bus he was upset. He tells his mother that Antwonn and Elden were masturbating on the bus and afterwards they rubbed their semen on his face.
The following day, at our 8:00 am daily meeting this subject is raised with much tittering and disbelief. Shasta, the transportation coordinator, checks the seating chart for Shandon’s bus looking for potential witnesses and determines two elementary students sit nearby. Rusty offers to interrogate them separately when they arrive. Shandon’s mother is driving him this morning; after yesterday’s event she will not trust the bus until we complete our investigation. The elementary boys substantiate the allegation. Their language is crude, but their descriptions match. Shasta and I question the two suspects. Questioning Antwonn is ineffective. Antwonn is a small, unhappy, thirteen year old black boy who lives with his Grandmother in a very small shack. When Antwonn wants to express himself, (which he rarely does with adults) he speaks as one raised by wolves - growling, grunting and teeth gnashing. With practice I am able to discern random words and much profanity, but the basic message is garbled as though he has rocks in his mouth. And in fact, he often does have a chewed up pen cap in his mouth. Making him remove it only causes more cursing and little increase in intelligible communication. Elden, the other suspect, is also a black thirteen year old, but unlike Antwonn, Elden is very bright, articulate and always smiling. But Elden likes to push the edge of the envelope. If told to stop, he goes; he stands when you say sit. Elden’s mother is a Deputy Sheriff and he never wants her called. Of course we use that threat regularly and at least once a week Elden’s behavior causes us to make good on it. As I reach for the phone to call Mom, Elden confesses they were “pretending” to masturbate but they didn’t really and it wasn’t semen, it was hand cream.
Elden and Antwonn are off the bus for two weeks and we do call Elden’s mother.
Some “bus sex acts” don’t require a moving bus. A parked bus will work just fine. It all began a few weeks after the Elden/Antwonn incident. We wanted to encourage whole families (parents, guardians and children) to have fun together at a Fall Festival. When we brainstorm a list of wholesome activities (apple bobbing, face painting, donut eating, cake walking, pie throwing, sack racing, ball throwing and cheerleading) no one mentions sex on a bus. But that doesn’t stop my students from adding it to the Fall Festival schedule.
At first blush, the Festival seems to be a smashing success (especially the pie throwing at Stone Simmons). About half the parents arrive only to drop off or pick up their children, but others come early and participate. Jillane’s Dad is here all evening. Strangely he does not participate. He stands outside the cafeteria in the dark, just out of reach of the beam from the street lamp, watching. He is a single parent, a white man, and Jillane, a fourteen-year-old black girl is his second daughter. His first daughter had a baby while a teenager and died young. We often have to call Dad about Jillane’s misbehavior. Jillane is by far the brightest and best-educated student at Prospect. She is witty, eloquent and writes decent poetry. Tonight Jillane participates with glee in the cheerleading demonstration. But at the end of the evening, she is nowhere to be found.
Rusty, Shasta and I take flashlights and go hunt for Jillane. Jillane’s father stays glued to his spot in the shadows. Shouting Jillane’s name, unlocking and searching every classroom, we look for over half an hour. I am worried and annoyed. Was she kidnapped? Did she run away? Should I call 911? Why do I organize these evening events?! I feel the clock ticking and my leadership skills faltering when shouts from Shasta pierce the darkness: she’s found Jillane. Jillane and Tayshaun, our football hero, are on a bus on South campus. It is the mini bus, the bus we don’t use except for emergencies.
We stand in the circle of light beaming from the lamppost - the one Jillane’s Dad has been avoiding all evening. Rosie, Rusty, Shasta and I ask questions, chastise, interrogate, reprimand. Everyone is talking at once except Tayshaun, who says nothing, and Jillane’s Dad, who says little. Tayshaun’s mother comes to pick him up. We give her “just the facts” so she can deal with the situation; I have a hunch she will do nothing. Jillane is quite effusive. She tells us we have dirty minds if we think anything was going on with Tayshaun in the bus. She is so genuine and persuasive, I want to believe her, I almost believe her. Shasta tells Jillane she is robbing the cradle (Tayshaun is 12). Jillane’s Dad barely speaks but makes Jillane apologize for inconveniencing us. It is late. We decide to call it a night.
The next morning, students are overhead by their bus driver (eavesdropping drivers provide essential crime tips) saying Jillane and Tayshaun left “something” on the bus. Shasta is off to investigate. A few minutes later I see Shasta walking across campus with her arm extended and items dangling from her hand. I sense something is repulsing her and she is trying to distance herself from the object. Inside my office she ceremoniously places a bra, panties (a thong) and a handkerchief on my desk. She said there was a used condom there as well, but she wasn’t picking that up in her bare hands. I summon Jillane to my office. I phone her father at work and put him on speakerphone. Jillane admits the clothing is hers, the handkerchief is Tayshaun’s. Her father is not pleased. He sounds defeated, tired. This girl is too much for him. Jillane has an explanation. She always carries an extra pair of panties on the pocket of her jeans (she demonstrates by putting the contraband thong in her pocket.) Her father almost sounds like he believes this outrageous fiction. He agrees to come by later and pick up the underwear and talk with me. Dad doesn’t stop in for several days. I put Jillane’s unmentionables in a manila envelope in my out basket. When Dad does arrive he tells me he took our advice and brought Jillane to the doctor for a pregnancy test. Enroute she asked her father whether the doctor would be able to tell if she was a virgin. Dad said yes. Jillane then confessed she not only had sex with Tayshaun but also with another boy last summer, when she was thirteen. Presumably not on a bus.
To my students, our busses are cleverly disguised sex nests. It can’t be the aroma: something between mildew, toe jam and dead rodent. More likely it is related to the lack of adult supervision. The driver’s eyes are on the road, while my students eyes are on each other. My students thrive on an audience of their peers for everything from class clowning to sex acts.
The students have all gone home for the day, but Shandon’s mother is on the phone and she is not pleased. She has been very active in and supportive of our school. She meets regularly with Daphne, Shandon’s teacher, she sends notes in response to teacher comments in Shandon’s planner and unlike most Prospect parents, she doesn’t curse in our presence. Daphne reports that Shandon’s mother sometimes seems to baby Shandon, treating him as if he were younger than his twelve years. Shandon is a slight, black, sixth grader who likes to joke around but is rarely a major behavior problem. We hope to send him back to public school at the end of the school year. This afternoon when he got off the bus he was upset. He tells his mother that Antwonn and Elden were masturbating on the bus and afterwards they rubbed their semen on his face.
The following day, at our 8:00 am daily meeting this subject is raised with much tittering and disbelief. Shasta, the transportation coordinator, checks the seating chart for Shandon’s bus looking for potential witnesses and determines two elementary students sit nearby. Rusty offers to interrogate them separately when they arrive. Shandon’s mother is driving him this morning; after yesterday’s event she will not trust the bus until we complete our investigation. The elementary boys substantiate the allegation. Their language is crude, but their descriptions match. Shasta and I question the two suspects. Questioning Antwonn is ineffective. Antwonn is a small, unhappy, thirteen year old black boy who lives with his Grandmother in a very small shack. When Antwonn wants to express himself, (which he rarely does with adults) he speaks as one raised by wolves - growling, grunting and teeth gnashing. With practice I am able to discern random words and much profanity, but the basic message is garbled as though he has rocks in his mouth. And in fact, he often does have a chewed up pen cap in his mouth. Making him remove it only causes more cursing and little increase in intelligible communication. Elden, the other suspect, is also a black thirteen year old, but unlike Antwonn, Elden is very bright, articulate and always smiling. But Elden likes to push the edge of the envelope. If told to stop, he goes; he stands when you say sit. Elden’s mother is a Deputy Sheriff and he never wants her called. Of course we use that threat regularly and at least once a week Elden’s behavior causes us to make good on it. As I reach for the phone to call Mom, Elden confesses they were “pretending” to masturbate but they didn’t really and it wasn’t semen, it was hand cream.
Elden and Antwonn are off the bus for two weeks and we do call Elden’s mother.
Some “bus sex acts” don’t require a moving bus. A parked bus will work just fine. It all began a few weeks after the Elden/Antwonn incident. We wanted to encourage whole families (parents, guardians and children) to have fun together at a Fall Festival. When we brainstorm a list of wholesome activities (apple bobbing, face painting, donut eating, cake walking, pie throwing, sack racing, ball throwing and cheerleading) no one mentions sex on a bus. But that doesn’t stop my students from adding it to the Fall Festival schedule.
At first blush, the Festival seems to be a smashing success (especially the pie throwing at Stone Simmons). About half the parents arrive only to drop off or pick up their children, but others come early and participate. Jillane’s Dad is here all evening. Strangely he does not participate. He stands outside the cafeteria in the dark, just out of reach of the beam from the street lamp, watching. He is a single parent, a white man, and Jillane, a fourteen-year-old black girl is his second daughter. His first daughter had a baby while a teenager and died young. We often have to call Dad about Jillane’s misbehavior. Jillane is by far the brightest and best-educated student at Prospect. She is witty, eloquent and writes decent poetry. Tonight Jillane participates with glee in the cheerleading demonstration. But at the end of the evening, she is nowhere to be found.
Rusty, Shasta and I take flashlights and go hunt for Jillane. Jillane’s father stays glued to his spot in the shadows. Shouting Jillane’s name, unlocking and searching every classroom, we look for over half an hour. I am worried and annoyed. Was she kidnapped? Did she run away? Should I call 911? Why do I organize these evening events?! I feel the clock ticking and my leadership skills faltering when shouts from Shasta pierce the darkness: she’s found Jillane. Jillane and Tayshaun, our football hero, are on a bus on South campus. It is the mini bus, the bus we don’t use except for emergencies.
We stand in the circle of light beaming from the lamppost - the one Jillane’s Dad has been avoiding all evening. Rosie, Rusty, Shasta and I ask questions, chastise, interrogate, reprimand. Everyone is talking at once except Tayshaun, who says nothing, and Jillane’s Dad, who says little. Tayshaun’s mother comes to pick him up. We give her “just the facts” so she can deal with the situation; I have a hunch she will do nothing. Jillane is quite effusive. She tells us we have dirty minds if we think anything was going on with Tayshaun in the bus. She is so genuine and persuasive, I want to believe her, I almost believe her. Shasta tells Jillane she is robbing the cradle (Tayshaun is 12). Jillane’s Dad barely speaks but makes Jillane apologize for inconveniencing us. It is late. We decide to call it a night.
The next morning, students are overhead by their bus driver (eavesdropping drivers provide essential crime tips) saying Jillane and Tayshaun left “something” on the bus. Shasta is off to investigate. A few minutes later I see Shasta walking across campus with her arm extended and items dangling from her hand. I sense something is repulsing her and she is trying to distance herself from the object. Inside my office she ceremoniously places a bra, panties (a thong) and a handkerchief on my desk. She said there was a used condom there as well, but she wasn’t picking that up in her bare hands. I summon Jillane to my office. I phone her father at work and put him on speakerphone. Jillane admits the clothing is hers, the handkerchief is Tayshaun’s. Her father is not pleased. He sounds defeated, tired. This girl is too much for him. Jillane has an explanation. She always carries an extra pair of panties on the pocket of her jeans (she demonstrates by putting the contraband thong in her pocket.) Her father almost sounds like he believes this outrageous fiction. He agrees to come by later and pick up the underwear and talk with me. Dad doesn’t stop in for several days. I put Jillane’s unmentionables in a manila envelope in my out basket. When Dad does arrive he tells me he took our advice and brought Jillane to the doctor for a pregnancy test. Enroute she asked her father whether the doctor would be able to tell if she was a virgin. Dad said yes. Jillane then confessed she not only had sex with Tayshaun but also with another boy last summer, when she was thirteen. Presumably not on a bus.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Chapter Twenty-Two: Islands of Joy in Choppy Seas
Chapter 22: Islands of Joy in Choppy Seas
Cruise ships depart daily from Port Canaveral, just east of Orlando. These ships often schedule stops at secluded island beaches owned by the cruise operator. Many passengers consider these “paradise islands” the highlight of their trip and later rave to their friends about the pristine sand, warm clear water, parasailing and snorkeling. The travelers often neglect to mention the rainy days, lightening storms or sea sickness. Minor inconveniences and discomforts are forgotten and forgiven as long as there are island memories.
Like a cruise passenger, I seek out and revel in island ports no matter how brief the stay or how small the beach.
Island of Granted Grants
The day starts on a positive note with good news in my email mailbox - all my rewrites of the Memorial Hospital grant have paid off - I have been awarded $61,000 to spend on reducing drug use among my students. I am so excited not only because we have the funds, but also because I don’t need to do any more rewrites of this grant application!
I add this good news to today’s morning meeting agenda. I print up and photocopy an agenda for the faculty every morning. Certain topics keep coming up – use of walkie-talkies, line protocol, cursing, parent communication. I plan to put together a staff handbook with sections devoted to all these topics. Instead of writing the same tired sentences over and over, I will be able to cite the handbook prescriptively. Maybe I’ll have time to write the handbook this summer. All things feel possible now that this grant application has been approved!
Island of Hope
During our morning meeting, Midge wants to talk about Frankie, the nine year old homeless boy currently living in Cressler House. Midge made some phone calls and found a dentist willing to work on Frankie’s infected tooth. She shares the name of the dentist for future referrals. Daphne has news to tell as well. Tyryona auditioned and was chosen for the lead role in a community theatre production. Daphne says Tyryona has been walking around with a script in her hand practicing her lines during every free minute. Daphne promises to keep us all updated regarding play performances.
Island of the Brief Epiphany
Cassandra is out of control and AWOL; both counselors are busy. I rendezvous with Cassandra just south of the baseball diamond. She is scowling. I try to imagine her without the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes and I think she is probably a beautiful child. A few days ago I mentioned to her caseworker that of all my students, Cassandra is the only one who maintains the angry demeanor even talking one-on-one. Our conversations involve me talking and Cassandra loudly cursing at me. The case worker pointed out that given the number of foster homes in which Cassandra has lived, she prefers to have people dislike her. It makes it easier to leave. I think about that as Cassandra and I walk back across the field to my office.
“Something in class made you angry.” I make it a statement and a question.
“Fuck you, you bitch. You don’t know what the fuck happened so just fucking shut your”
I interrupt her tirade. “Cassandra, no matter what you say, you can’t make me hate you. I know that’s what you are trying to do, but I have to warn you. It won’t work. “
Cassandra stops walking. Her long braids stop swinging. She stares at me and then I see this tiny smile, this sheepish, slightest upturn of her mouth. At that moment I want to hug Cassandra. I don’t. Hugging students who have a history of sexual abuse is unwise. But we walk quietly to my office and inside she calmly tells me why she ran from the classroom. Without cursing at me, without yelling, just the facts. By 11:00 Cassandra is ready to return to class.
Island of Yoga Magic
Lynne leans over the filing cabinet wall to tell me I have a guest: the Yoga woman. I hate forgetting things, and I forgot about this. I made this appointment, it was on my calendar, I reminded myself this morning, but somehow in the dance of the day, I completely forgot about it.
A few weeks ago I saw an advertisement in the paper for a Yoga class. I called the instructor and asked if she would be willing to do a demonstration for my students at no cost. I’d read articles about how public schools in San Francisco now make Yoga a regular part of PE and anecdotal evidence says the students are calmer and there are fewer fights. I’ll try most anything in the name of anger control. The Yoga woman is here now to do Yoga with my students. I get on the walkie-talkie and announce that today we’ll have a special activity, Yoga. I ask teachers to canvas their classes for interested parties. Fifteen students raise their hands.
The students respond amazingly well to the Yoga. I need this woman on a daily basis! She has all 15 children in the “corpse” position while new age music plays and she hypnotically chants “feel the white light, let the energy surround you” etc. This goes on for over 10 minutes. Estralitta, Adoncia, Karla, Timmy, Patrick, Claymont, all sorts of wild kids are there. They aren’t shouting sarcasm or rough housing. They are mellow and calm and peaceful. The Yoga scene makes my day. I want daily yoga for Prospect and Yoga woman is willing, but I can’t afford the cost. She suggests I write a grant.
No Islands in Sight
I have a phone call. It is Cassandra’s DCF caseworker. Despite her recent arrest, they have decided to move Cassandra back with her mother. Her mom lives near Tampa so Cassandra will not be returning to school and we’ll have no chance to say goodbye. While on the phone, Lynne picks up another call for me. It is Henry, my school liaison. He phones to say Ionya’s mother, tired of all the Baker Acting, has insisted Ionya be transferred to the Avenue Schools, another alternative school in town. Again, no opportunity for goodbyes. The Deputy stops in to say goodnight and to tell me Torrey won’t be back. The JAC (Juvenile Assessment Center) determined after the water pipe incident, she has enough points to be held at the JDC (Juvenile Detention Center) until she can be sent to a boot camp.
Rosie stops in my office and I share the news of Cassandra, Ionya and Torrey. Rosie says she thinks Cassandra knew this was coming; she had all her friends write their phone numbers on her arms two days ago. Cassandra told a few teachers, but no one believed her. Ionya had no such insight. Goodbye Cassandra, goodbye Ionya, goodbye Torrey.
The Boss calls to continue the discussion he began earlier today on his usual theme: he isn’t happy with me and views my reluctance to change as either defiance or weakness. As he talks I try to see me through his eyes. I see a difficult employee. I see an employee who questions his authority at every opportunity and who doesn’t “buy in” to his way, the Ebencorp way, of doing things. I am not sure what I can do to change this perception or more correctly, what I am willing to do. I think I would get along better with The Boss if I questioned less, protested less, shut up more and obeyed more. I am not good at doing that. I could never have survived the military and I am beginning to wonder whether I can survive here.
Cruise ships depart daily from Port Canaveral, just east of Orlando. These ships often schedule stops at secluded island beaches owned by the cruise operator. Many passengers consider these “paradise islands” the highlight of their trip and later rave to their friends about the pristine sand, warm clear water, parasailing and snorkeling. The travelers often neglect to mention the rainy days, lightening storms or sea sickness. Minor inconveniences and discomforts are forgotten and forgiven as long as there are island memories.
Like a cruise passenger, I seek out and revel in island ports no matter how brief the stay or how small the beach.
Island of Granted Grants
The day starts on a positive note with good news in my email mailbox - all my rewrites of the Memorial Hospital grant have paid off - I have been awarded $61,000 to spend on reducing drug use among my students. I am so excited not only because we have the funds, but also because I don’t need to do any more rewrites of this grant application!
I add this good news to today’s morning meeting agenda. I print up and photocopy an agenda for the faculty every morning. Certain topics keep coming up – use of walkie-talkies, line protocol, cursing, parent communication. I plan to put together a staff handbook with sections devoted to all these topics. Instead of writing the same tired sentences over and over, I will be able to cite the handbook prescriptively. Maybe I’ll have time to write the handbook this summer. All things feel possible now that this grant application has been approved!
Island of Hope
During our morning meeting, Midge wants to talk about Frankie, the nine year old homeless boy currently living in Cressler House. Midge made some phone calls and found a dentist willing to work on Frankie’s infected tooth. She shares the name of the dentist for future referrals. Daphne has news to tell as well. Tyryona auditioned and was chosen for the lead role in a community theatre production. Daphne says Tyryona has been walking around with a script in her hand practicing her lines during every free minute. Daphne promises to keep us all updated regarding play performances.
Island of the Brief Epiphany
Cassandra is out of control and AWOL; both counselors are busy. I rendezvous with Cassandra just south of the baseball diamond. She is scowling. I try to imagine her without the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes and I think she is probably a beautiful child. A few days ago I mentioned to her caseworker that of all my students, Cassandra is the only one who maintains the angry demeanor even talking one-on-one. Our conversations involve me talking and Cassandra loudly cursing at me. The case worker pointed out that given the number of foster homes in which Cassandra has lived, she prefers to have people dislike her. It makes it easier to leave. I think about that as Cassandra and I walk back across the field to my office.
“Something in class made you angry.” I make it a statement and a question.
“Fuck you, you bitch. You don’t know what the fuck happened so just fucking shut your”
I interrupt her tirade. “Cassandra, no matter what you say, you can’t make me hate you. I know that’s what you are trying to do, but I have to warn you. It won’t work. “
Cassandra stops walking. Her long braids stop swinging. She stares at me and then I see this tiny smile, this sheepish, slightest upturn of her mouth. At that moment I want to hug Cassandra. I don’t. Hugging students who have a history of sexual abuse is unwise. But we walk quietly to my office and inside she calmly tells me why she ran from the classroom. Without cursing at me, without yelling, just the facts. By 11:00 Cassandra is ready to return to class.
Island of Yoga Magic
Lynne leans over the filing cabinet wall to tell me I have a guest: the Yoga woman. I hate forgetting things, and I forgot about this. I made this appointment, it was on my calendar, I reminded myself this morning, but somehow in the dance of the day, I completely forgot about it.
A few weeks ago I saw an advertisement in the paper for a Yoga class. I called the instructor and asked if she would be willing to do a demonstration for my students at no cost. I’d read articles about how public schools in San Francisco now make Yoga a regular part of PE and anecdotal evidence says the students are calmer and there are fewer fights. I’ll try most anything in the name of anger control. The Yoga woman is here now to do Yoga with my students. I get on the walkie-talkie and announce that today we’ll have a special activity, Yoga. I ask teachers to canvas their classes for interested parties. Fifteen students raise their hands.
The students respond amazingly well to the Yoga. I need this woman on a daily basis! She has all 15 children in the “corpse” position while new age music plays and she hypnotically chants “feel the white light, let the energy surround you” etc. This goes on for over 10 minutes. Estralitta, Adoncia, Karla, Timmy, Patrick, Claymont, all sorts of wild kids are there. They aren’t shouting sarcasm or rough housing. They are mellow and calm and peaceful. The Yoga scene makes my day. I want daily yoga for Prospect and Yoga woman is willing, but I can’t afford the cost. She suggests I write a grant.
No Islands in Sight
I have a phone call. It is Cassandra’s DCF caseworker. Despite her recent arrest, they have decided to move Cassandra back with her mother. Her mom lives near Tampa so Cassandra will not be returning to school and we’ll have no chance to say goodbye. While on the phone, Lynne picks up another call for me. It is Henry, my school liaison. He phones to say Ionya’s mother, tired of all the Baker Acting, has insisted Ionya be transferred to the Avenue Schools, another alternative school in town. Again, no opportunity for goodbyes. The Deputy stops in to say goodnight and to tell me Torrey won’t be back. The JAC (Juvenile Assessment Center) determined after the water pipe incident, she has enough points to be held at the JDC (Juvenile Detention Center) until she can be sent to a boot camp.
Rosie stops in my office and I share the news of Cassandra, Ionya and Torrey. Rosie says she thinks Cassandra knew this was coming; she had all her friends write their phone numbers on her arms two days ago. Cassandra told a few teachers, but no one believed her. Ionya had no such insight. Goodbye Cassandra, goodbye Ionya, goodbye Torrey.
The Boss calls to continue the discussion he began earlier today on his usual theme: he isn’t happy with me and views my reluctance to change as either defiance or weakness. As he talks I try to see me through his eyes. I see a difficult employee. I see an employee who questions his authority at every opportunity and who doesn’t “buy in” to his way, the Ebencorp way, of doing things. I am not sure what I can do to change this perception or more correctly, what I am willing to do. I think I would get along better with The Boss if I questioned less, protested less, shut up more and obeyed more. I am not good at doing that. I could never have survived the military and I am beginning to wonder whether I can survive here.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Chapter Twenty-One: Absorbing New Recruits
Chapter 21: Absorbing New Recruits
The blasting alarm shudders me awake. It is early October but it feels like summer. I run before the sun rises; it is already 72 degrees and very humid. After my run I get on the scales. I’ve lost 15 pounds since I became the Prospect principal in May; fifteen pounds in five months. I’m not trying to diet although with the upcoming marathon I do watch everything I eat. I think I am losing weight from running around on campus all day and missing dinner at night and maybe from stress. . . . I hope the addition of new staff will help alleviate some of this angst. There are several new teacher names on my class list spreadsheet these days: Jana, RitaMae, Jordan, Buffy and Billie.
Jana took over Rosie’s class when Rosie became a counselor. Jana is a tall, large, black woman with experience teaching English to difficult students in a public school here in Herald County. She lost her job when she failed the math section of the state certification exam, but she is permitted to teach in my school as a “long term sub.” This is a convenient loophole through which I will happily scramble. Jana is soft spoken but tough. She is no-nonsense, unflappable and prepares thorough lessons. Jana’s ability to remain calm helps me decide I will assign DerMarr to her homeroom. Fifth grader DerMarr’s size and aggressive behavior are a mismatch for the elementary classroom and I think Jana will be able to handle him.
Shortly after meeting Jana, Noreen came to see me “in confidence” to tell me that she has inside information that Jana is pregnant. She says it as though Jana has committed a crime (something with which Noreen has some experience). I ignore Noreen’s rumor mongering but worry about Jana’s health and the health of her baby if she is pregnant in such a stressful environment. Before the busses arrive, as we stand outside in the bus circle chatting, Jana says everything is going fine and she reiterates she is ready to take DerMarr when we feel he is ready to leave Orientation. I ask Jana how things are going with her team teacher, Stone, and allow that Stone can be a challenge. Stone’s negativity, sarcasm and dry wit have made him a pariah on my faculty. Jana says she has no problem getting along with Stone. “We both begin our days with prayer.” She explains.
RitaMae is a white woman from rural, poor Kentucky – Appalachia, to be precise. A single parent of an honor roll middle school student, RitaMae is a recent graduate from a teacher’s college and this is her first teaching position. She is certified, devoted, caring and tough. Her voice however tends to be loud and grating. I have to remind her frequently NOT to yell at the students. RitaMae tells me she was a bad kid, a Prospect type kid, when she was younger. RitaMae’s delinquent background is no doubt one of the sources of her strength and determination; she sets high expectations for our students and works nights and weekends to prepare excellent lessons for her classes. I decide to team RitaMae with Neeley. Maybe her confidence, organization and planning will rub off on him.
Jordan is a twenty-something slender, white man from Alabama. Jordan, like RitaMae, explains he can relate to our students because he too was a troubled youth. Jordan is very quiet and as a recent college graduate, has never held a teaching position, but he is a certified Social Studies teacher and his instincts are right on target. Like Daphne he develops a quick rapport with his students. Jordan and his fiancé frequently have dinner with Daphne and her husband. I team Jordan with Daphne.
Buffy is an inexperienced but Florida-educated and certified elementary teacher. She is young, blond, petite and tough. She and Midge will each have a section of the elementary students. With children in grades two through five, the classrooms will have to be multi-grade, but we can divide the students by grade/ability or by behavior. Both Buffy and Midge prefer grouping by behavior. The three of us sit down and make a list of students who work well together and those who need to be separated. Buffy isn’t ready to take her own class yet, so she will team-teach with Midge for a week or so.
Billie is our new PE teacher. Hiring a PE teacher was my staff’s idea. I gave them the choice – I could use the headcount for another classroom teacher thus lowering the student-teacher ratio or I could hire a health/PE teacher. Hiring a health/PE teacher means classroom teachers don’t have to instruct health and PE but more importantly, it means they get another much-needed planning period. We put it to a vote, and with one dissention everyone wanted a PE teacher. Billie is a middle aged, rugged, blond woman. I hire Billie for her enthusiasm, high energy and her experience, but now I am questioning my decision. She has only been here two weeks, but she has been late twice. She makes long, tearful cell phone calls at the end of the day and alludes to family problems: her husband is unemployed; her husband threw all their furniture on the front walk; her daughter was too dizzy to drive; her son’s grades are slipping and he might not get into West Point. Billie is taking classes at night to become an attorney and frequently dispenses dubious legal advice to her coworkers. On the plus side, Billie can control the students; she rarely has to radio for a counselor, and the students enjoy her classes.
The Daphne-Jordan team is clearly my best. I feel I can assign my most troubled students to Daphne and Jordan and they will handle, educate and reform them. As far as the Neeley-RitaMae team goes, I see three benefits to pairing these two: first, it will help Neeley recover from Tammie’s departure; second, it will remove him from Noreen’s negativity; and third it will allow RitaMae to serve as a role model for classroom management. I plan to move Neeley and his class from south campus to north once RitaMae has had time to get settled. I don’t share this information with Neeley, Noreen or any of the teachers - it will just cause an uproar. I’ll wait until I am ready to make the move. I hope RitaMae will be the answer to the Neeley problem. Hope springs eternal.
I try to group teachers into teams taking into account the subjects they teach best, their style of relating to students and their interpersonal skills in working with each other. In the ideal team, or as I call them, “house”, there are three teachers: one Math, one English and one who does both Science and Social Studies. But few teams are ideal. Stone and Jana’s house will be staffed with just the two of them all year. Stone prefers to teach Social Studies and is willing to teach Math; Jana likes to teach English and is willing to teach Science. Jana is tough enough to tolerate Stone and both of them are strict disciplinarians. Daphne loves to teach English, Jordan loves Social Studies and is willing to also teach Science and I will soon hire a teacher to join their team to teach Math (until then Daphne handles it). Daphne and Jordan have a genuine concern for troubled students and rarely raise their voices. RitaMae loves Social Studies and nothing else. Neeley loves English and nothing else. I need a good Math/Science teacher to join their team. Noreen is an incredible math teacher, Yvonne likes Social studies and is willing to teach Science. Once I move Neeley to work with RitaMae, I will need an English teacher to work in the Noreen and Yvonne house.
My goal is to have students who are ready to move out of Orientation get introduced to their teacher on Friday and start with their new class on Monday. This doesn’t always work since some students need more or less time in Orientation. I listen to Stephanie, analyze the data on her worksheet, and try to find the House and teacher where each student will thrive. If Stephanie and I take more than a few minutes discussing classroom assignments, an urgent phone call, irate parent, misbehaving student or flustered teacher will interrupt. We move quickly, I record the changes on my spreadsheet and inform teachers of their new assignments in the bus circle as I hand out newly updated copies of the class list spreadsheet.
I feel a little guilty about, and frustrated with this procedure. My original intention was to include the faculty and make student assignment decisions cooperatively in our weekly meetings. I believe in the benefits that flow from empowering my staff in shared decision-making. But, expediency won out over philosophy. I actually envisioned the whole in-take procedure differently. I wanted to calmly meet and talk with every new student (along with the parent or guardian) before sending the child off to Orientation. Instead new students and parents are sent directly to Stephanie’s room where she has them fill out paperwork while she simultaneously runs the orientation class and addresses the questions and concerns of the new student and parent.
The procedure for inducting new students isn’t the only orientation program in which I am failing to do what I planned and what I know is the best practice. My new employee orientation is almost non-existent. I feel very badly about the lack of an orientation for new employees. I’ve worked in HR, I know the value and necessity of a thorough initiation for a new job. A solid orientation program can increase employee satisfaction, performance and retention. But we just don’t have time for that at Prospect. In lieu of employee orientation, we do rapid-fire introductions around a table at our 8:00 meeting and Lynne hands the new recruits paperwork to be read and signed.
Ebencorp has a “handbook” but it is poorly written and covers only the corporate policies and procedures, many of which do not apply to us. The Ebencorp job descriptions don’t match any of our positions: the “teacher” description emphasizes protocol for overnight boating trips. I am working on rewriting job descriptions and obtaining Ebencorp approval to use them with my staff. My employees need a guide to Prospect of Lakeboro’s policies and procedures. I have a Word document into which I continue to make notes for this future handbook. I am determined to write it this summer, but for now I have nothing. I try to spend some time with each new employee, but even that not very ambitious objective often goes unmet. I do provide new teachers a week before they are assigned a class. During that week I encourage them to visit classes, observe and talk to teachers and set up their classrooms.
I don’t have time to lament the loss of the ideal. I am being attacked by foes I am ill-equipped to battle. My overarching explanation: there isn’t enough of me (and if I keep losing weight there will be less and less of me). I worry my squad of new teachers won’t be able to alleviate the pressure.
The blasting alarm shudders me awake. It is early October but it feels like summer. I run before the sun rises; it is already 72 degrees and very humid. After my run I get on the scales. I’ve lost 15 pounds since I became the Prospect principal in May; fifteen pounds in five months. I’m not trying to diet although with the upcoming marathon I do watch everything I eat. I think I am losing weight from running around on campus all day and missing dinner at night and maybe from stress. . . . I hope the addition of new staff will help alleviate some of this angst. There are several new teacher names on my class list spreadsheet these days: Jana, RitaMae, Jordan, Buffy and Billie.
Jana took over Rosie’s class when Rosie became a counselor. Jana is a tall, large, black woman with experience teaching English to difficult students in a public school here in Herald County. She lost her job when she failed the math section of the state certification exam, but she is permitted to teach in my school as a “long term sub.” This is a convenient loophole through which I will happily scramble. Jana is soft spoken but tough. She is no-nonsense, unflappable and prepares thorough lessons. Jana’s ability to remain calm helps me decide I will assign DerMarr to her homeroom. Fifth grader DerMarr’s size and aggressive behavior are a mismatch for the elementary classroom and I think Jana will be able to handle him.
Shortly after meeting Jana, Noreen came to see me “in confidence” to tell me that she has inside information that Jana is pregnant. She says it as though Jana has committed a crime (something with which Noreen has some experience). I ignore Noreen’s rumor mongering but worry about Jana’s health and the health of her baby if she is pregnant in such a stressful environment. Before the busses arrive, as we stand outside in the bus circle chatting, Jana says everything is going fine and she reiterates she is ready to take DerMarr when we feel he is ready to leave Orientation. I ask Jana how things are going with her team teacher, Stone, and allow that Stone can be a challenge. Stone’s negativity, sarcasm and dry wit have made him a pariah on my faculty. Jana says she has no problem getting along with Stone. “We both begin our days with prayer.” She explains.
RitaMae is a white woman from rural, poor Kentucky – Appalachia, to be precise. A single parent of an honor roll middle school student, RitaMae is a recent graduate from a teacher’s college and this is her first teaching position. She is certified, devoted, caring and tough. Her voice however tends to be loud and grating. I have to remind her frequently NOT to yell at the students. RitaMae tells me she was a bad kid, a Prospect type kid, when she was younger. RitaMae’s delinquent background is no doubt one of the sources of her strength and determination; she sets high expectations for our students and works nights and weekends to prepare excellent lessons for her classes. I decide to team RitaMae with Neeley. Maybe her confidence, organization and planning will rub off on him.
Jordan is a twenty-something slender, white man from Alabama. Jordan, like RitaMae, explains he can relate to our students because he too was a troubled youth. Jordan is very quiet and as a recent college graduate, has never held a teaching position, but he is a certified Social Studies teacher and his instincts are right on target. Like Daphne he develops a quick rapport with his students. Jordan and his fiancé frequently have dinner with Daphne and her husband. I team Jordan with Daphne.
Buffy is an inexperienced but Florida-educated and certified elementary teacher. She is young, blond, petite and tough. She and Midge will each have a section of the elementary students. With children in grades two through five, the classrooms will have to be multi-grade, but we can divide the students by grade/ability or by behavior. Both Buffy and Midge prefer grouping by behavior. The three of us sit down and make a list of students who work well together and those who need to be separated. Buffy isn’t ready to take her own class yet, so she will team-teach with Midge for a week or so.
Billie is our new PE teacher. Hiring a PE teacher was my staff’s idea. I gave them the choice – I could use the headcount for another classroom teacher thus lowering the student-teacher ratio or I could hire a health/PE teacher. Hiring a health/PE teacher means classroom teachers don’t have to instruct health and PE but more importantly, it means they get another much-needed planning period. We put it to a vote, and with one dissention everyone wanted a PE teacher. Billie is a middle aged, rugged, blond woman. I hire Billie for her enthusiasm, high energy and her experience, but now I am questioning my decision. She has only been here two weeks, but she has been late twice. She makes long, tearful cell phone calls at the end of the day and alludes to family problems: her husband is unemployed; her husband threw all their furniture on the front walk; her daughter was too dizzy to drive; her son’s grades are slipping and he might not get into West Point. Billie is taking classes at night to become an attorney and frequently dispenses dubious legal advice to her coworkers. On the plus side, Billie can control the students; she rarely has to radio for a counselor, and the students enjoy her classes.
The Daphne-Jordan team is clearly my best. I feel I can assign my most troubled students to Daphne and Jordan and they will handle, educate and reform them. As far as the Neeley-RitaMae team goes, I see three benefits to pairing these two: first, it will help Neeley recover from Tammie’s departure; second, it will remove him from Noreen’s negativity; and third it will allow RitaMae to serve as a role model for classroom management. I plan to move Neeley and his class from south campus to north once RitaMae has had time to get settled. I don’t share this information with Neeley, Noreen or any of the teachers - it will just cause an uproar. I’ll wait until I am ready to make the move. I hope RitaMae will be the answer to the Neeley problem. Hope springs eternal.
I try to group teachers into teams taking into account the subjects they teach best, their style of relating to students and their interpersonal skills in working with each other. In the ideal team, or as I call them, “house”, there are three teachers: one Math, one English and one who does both Science and Social Studies. But few teams are ideal. Stone and Jana’s house will be staffed with just the two of them all year. Stone prefers to teach Social Studies and is willing to teach Math; Jana likes to teach English and is willing to teach Science. Jana is tough enough to tolerate Stone and both of them are strict disciplinarians. Daphne loves to teach English, Jordan loves Social Studies and is willing to also teach Science and I will soon hire a teacher to join their team to teach Math (until then Daphne handles it). Daphne and Jordan have a genuine concern for troubled students and rarely raise their voices. RitaMae loves Social Studies and nothing else. Neeley loves English and nothing else. I need a good Math/Science teacher to join their team. Noreen is an incredible math teacher, Yvonne likes Social studies and is willing to teach Science. Once I move Neeley to work with RitaMae, I will need an English teacher to work in the Noreen and Yvonne house.
My goal is to have students who are ready to move out of Orientation get introduced to their teacher on Friday and start with their new class on Monday. This doesn’t always work since some students need more or less time in Orientation. I listen to Stephanie, analyze the data on her worksheet, and try to find the House and teacher where each student will thrive. If Stephanie and I take more than a few minutes discussing classroom assignments, an urgent phone call, irate parent, misbehaving student or flustered teacher will interrupt. We move quickly, I record the changes on my spreadsheet and inform teachers of their new assignments in the bus circle as I hand out newly updated copies of the class list spreadsheet.
I feel a little guilty about, and frustrated with this procedure. My original intention was to include the faculty and make student assignment decisions cooperatively in our weekly meetings. I believe in the benefits that flow from empowering my staff in shared decision-making. But, expediency won out over philosophy. I actually envisioned the whole in-take procedure differently. I wanted to calmly meet and talk with every new student (along with the parent or guardian) before sending the child off to Orientation. Instead new students and parents are sent directly to Stephanie’s room where she has them fill out paperwork while she simultaneously runs the orientation class and addresses the questions and concerns of the new student and parent.
The procedure for inducting new students isn’t the only orientation program in which I am failing to do what I planned and what I know is the best practice. My new employee orientation is almost non-existent. I feel very badly about the lack of an orientation for new employees. I’ve worked in HR, I know the value and necessity of a thorough initiation for a new job. A solid orientation program can increase employee satisfaction, performance and retention. But we just don’t have time for that at Prospect. In lieu of employee orientation, we do rapid-fire introductions around a table at our 8:00 meeting and Lynne hands the new recruits paperwork to be read and signed.
Ebencorp has a “handbook” but it is poorly written and covers only the corporate policies and procedures, many of which do not apply to us. The Ebencorp job descriptions don’t match any of our positions: the “teacher” description emphasizes protocol for overnight boating trips. I am working on rewriting job descriptions and obtaining Ebencorp approval to use them with my staff. My employees need a guide to Prospect of Lakeboro’s policies and procedures. I have a Word document into which I continue to make notes for this future handbook. I am determined to write it this summer, but for now I have nothing. I try to spend some time with each new employee, but even that not very ambitious objective often goes unmet. I do provide new teachers a week before they are assigned a class. During that week I encourage them to visit classes, observe and talk to teachers and set up their classrooms.
I don’t have time to lament the loss of the ideal. I am being attacked by foes I am ill-equipped to battle. My overarching explanation: there isn’t enough of me (and if I keep losing weight there will be less and less of me). I worry my squad of new teachers won’t be able to alleviate the pressure.
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