You always try to hope for the best, no matter what. These days especially, you hope for supervisors to be reasonable. After all, half the country is traumatized and terrorized, and the other half is deluded by demagogues on cable news. 

Given the tension everyone is feeling, you'd think some of Bloomberg's crazy supervisors would restrain their worst instincts.

Of course that won't happen. Their worst instincts are their only instincts, and hey, they used them to score the gig. If it worked this time, why wouldn't it make them principal? Superintendent? Chancellor? Dictator for life? Whatever works.

So I shouldn't be surprised to receive a story like this one in my email. But I was. You'd think, at my age, I wouldn't be so naive. But there it is:

Today my boy wonder AP comes in for a "walkthrough." Boy wonder AP takes note of the board, the bulletins, the lesson plan folder, and then says "It's very crowded in here. There's no social distancing right now."

That bastard Chapter Leader is making a stink again. Of course, of course. That's all he ever does. He lives for this stuff. Now it's all, "Oh, you CAN'T give Mr. Scwartz a program with four preps." I told him it's three preps, you sucker, but he's all, "Yes, but one of them is two periods, and it takes twice as much time to prep 90 minutes as it does to prep 45.

Moron.

Now, he's all,"Oh, I'm gonna file a grievance, and it's gonna go to the superintendent, and then you're gonna have to make the change anyway." I'll make a change alright. So instead of having him teach The History of Cement 1 and 2, I'll make the bastard teacher the History of Cement 1, 2 and 3. Then it will be a three period class. And I'll make sure the other two preps are different ones. Then I can give that asshole five preps instead of just four, and it will still be three on paper.

I wasn't born yesterday. I know how to deal with all that nonsense.

That's what I'm gonna do if they win this frigging grievance. If that weasel superintendent grants them this stupid request, he's not worth the cardboard he's painted on. You know, Burger King is offering one free Whopper with purchase this week, and they deliver. I could order three times today and get three free Whoppers. I wonder if they'll charge extra for cheese, those bastards. That's how they get you. There's always a catch.

Anyway, what if he wins the second grievance? I guess I can keep on adding levels one at a time. Can they even grieve again once you change the program? This is the problem when you agree to all these ridiculous rules. What's even the point of being the boss when you can't do what you want? I mean, those lazy teachers are just sitting on their asses at home and I can't even send them out to buy me lunch. What's up with that?

I would fix this system if I were in charge. No more of that nonsense staying home just because there's a frigging pandemic. Oh excuse me, I don't want to get infected. I'd send every one of those whiny bastards into the building every frigging day, and if they didn't like it, they could walk. Hey, the world is full of risks and they're the underlings and they should be ready and willing to go out there and take them.

Plus I live close enough to the school that I could send at least some of them out to bring me lunch. These frigging delivery services, man, they take forever. Then they wonder why I don't tip. I don't believe in tipping. If they wanted real jobs, they'd work their way up, like I did. In our family, that's what we were taught. As soon as my uncle was principal, he made me assistant principal, and as soon as the old goat kicks it, I'll have that job.

Anyway, this isn't Burger King, so you don't get it your way. If you come crying to me about your frigging program I'm just gonna find a way to make it worse. Hold the lettuce my ass. And you'll be on potty patrol forever.

Those teachers should just quit their bitching, If they had half a brain, they'd work tbeir way out of the frigging classroom just like I did. Meanwhile, they'll take what they get and like it. Or not. I don't give a flying hoot.

Boy Wonder sat in his office, wondering how he was going to present this to the principal. He had given Ms. Greenblatt a letter in file for not placing a rubric on the bulletin board, and she was bitching about it, and everything else, as usual. Rubrics were important, Every time he sat through some stupid meeting there were rubrics. How would parents know what grades were based on if there weren't rubrics? Just because the teacher wrote comments explaining exactly why she gave the grade? No way.  If Greenblatt didn't do rubrics, the department might follow, and there would be no rubrics at all, and then what would he get them on?

But she went and called a meeting with the principal. That bastard had better back him up. One day that lowlife would retire, and it would be his turn. Nothing would stop him. And when he was in charge, really in charge, things would be different. No more of this lollygagging around. Everyone would do exactly what he said, when he said, how he said. Being assistant principal was hungry work. You know what would hit the spot right now? A double Whopper with cheese. And not one of those Impossible Whoppers made with soy, or cardboard, or whatever they made them of. No, a real frigging Whopper. Nothing else would do. Anyway, time to go to the office.

Oh my gosh. They started without me. How could they do that? Don't they know that I'm indispensable? Who's gonna speak for rubrics without me. Chapter Leader was blathering on about this and that.

"Do you really think that parents look at rubrics," he asked. "Likely as not, parents don't even know what rubrics are. Surely what they're interested in is seeing the work their kids did. Also, how often are parents in the building, let alone looking at bulletin boards?"

"I understand," said the principal.

That bastard! He should be standing up for me, but NOOOOOO! Why doesn't he just throw this piece of crap out of his office. Boy Wonder's stomach started rumbling. How long am I gonna have to sit here, he wondered. I want to hop in my car and get straight to Burger King. Don't I have a coupon in the glove compartment? I hope I didn't leave it at home. Free large fries. Mmmmmm....What is Chapter Leader going on about now?

"Anyway, the UFT Contract says the formation of bulletin boards ought not to be dictated, and..."

What? Are you kidding? How were bulletin boards full of rubrics going to happen if he couldn't order people to create bulletin boards full of rubrics? It was time to speak up, and defend his right to tell people what to do!

"Well, Chapter Leader never came to me and discussed that, ever!"

"Well, Mr. Wonder, I don't find speaking with you to be a productive use of my time."

What? What the hell did that mean? How dare he! No one speaks to me like that.

"WELL, you've made THAT quite clear!"

There. That should show him.

"I'll take it under advisement," said the principal.

WHAT? What the hell did that even mean? If I were the principal, I would have punched his face out for that, at the very least. This guy was a wuss. The only solution was to not even sign out, go straight to Burger King, and order two, no THREE double Whoppers with double cheese. And what the hell, why return to the building after that?

It was time to develop a new initiative to keep those friggin teachers in line. He'd think of something. Right after Burger King.

Marco Pollo was a teacher, but he was always afraid. His supervisor, Boy Wonder, didn't like him very much. That's why Marco had a big stack of letters in his file. Boy Wonder would sit in his office and write all kinds of things. Marco never understood why. Also, Boy Wonder walked around the whole building talking about Marco. Marco did this. Marco did that. Boy Wonder would walk into the men's room and start talking about how awful Marco was. Marco felt bad when he heard about it.

Marco's chapter leader listened to the stories. He told him to file complaints. He said to report him to 311, OEO, and the union. Marco didn't want to do that. He thought it would irritate Boy Wonder. And yet, Boy Wonder kept placing letters in his file. One day, Boy Wonder placed a letter in Marco's file saying if he didn't stop doing what he was doing, he would get fired. Marco was very upset. The chapter leader said to grieve the letter, since Boy Wonder never bothered to consult with Marco about it. Marco thought that was a bad idea. Boy Wonder might get mad.

Marco had to meet with Boy Wonder every week. He had to do all of his lesson plans a week in advance and bring them to Boy Wonder. This was a lot of work. It was really kind of double work, because the lesson plans didn't always end exactly where the next ones began. Marco had to write them all over again. Boy Wonder would walk in and see that Marco was not exactly where he said he'd be, and then write him up.

One day, Boy Wonder decided to call the chapter leader in to discuss issues with Marco. Marco sat quietly while Boy Wonder explained what a terrible teacher Marco was. The chapter leader asked why they were here. Was it just so Boy Wonder could yell at Marco? Boy Wonder said Marco was failing to follow the improvement plan they had agreed upon.

"What improvement plan?" asked the chapter leader.

"This one," said Boy Wonder, producing a pamphlet with Marco's signature on it.

"What was your rating last semester?" the chapter leader asked Marco.

"Effective," said Marco.

"Then why the hell do you have a TIP?" asked the chapter leader.

"This isn't a TIP," said Boy Wonder.

"Yes it is," said the chapter leader. "It's a Teacher Improvement Plan. Teacher improvement plans are for teachers rated developing or ineffective."

It's not a teacher improvement plan," said Boy Wonder. "It's a Teacher Assistance Plan."

"Where did you get that?" asked the chapter leader. "Did you just pull it out of your ass?"

"How DARE you?" said Boy Wonder. "NO ONE talks to me like that!"

Boy Wonder was going to go on, but he started thinking about the five-dollar fill up at KFC. If he started an extended conversation with chapter leader, he wouldn't have time to skip out. Mmmm.. Five dollar fill up.

"Anyway," Boy Wonder said, "it's NOT a teacher improvement plan. It's a teacher assistance plan. It's completely different."

"So," said the chapter leader, "it's not a TIP. It's a TAP."

"Exactly," said Boy Wonder. All was now clear.

"Well it's bullshit," said the chapter leader. "You don't have the right to do that to an effective-rated teacher. Also, the most you get to collect lesson plans like that is never."

Boy Wonder was really angry. His face turned a very deep shade of red. "This meeting is over," he announced.

The chapter leader told Marco to file a grievance, but Marco didn't want to do it. So the chapter leader filed a paperwork complaint and killed the TAP. But he was irritated because he didn't find out about it until March. If only Marco had told him in September he could have killed it right away.

The day he found out his TAP was dead, Boy Wonder left work 90 minutes early. He went to KFC and ate three five-dollar fill ups, but still didn't feel better. So he pulled out his laptop and wrote up an observation of the lesson Marco was teaching right now. Boy Wonder wasn't actually in the classroom, so he had to invent what was happening there. He rated all of it ineffective. It was a good thing he'd had the foresight to just leave work without signing out, so no one could prove he wasn't in the building.

There was no way Marco was gonna have a decent rating this year. Next year, Marco would have a TIP instead of a TAP, and the world would once more spin on its proper axis.

No one was more influential in Boy Wonder's life than his father. He knew everything. He always knew what to say and do. And he took no guff from anyone. At this point in Boy Wonder's life, he admired no one more than his father.

"DID YOU LEARN IT YET?" Pow! The back of the hand.

"HOW ABOUT NOW?" Smack! Yet again.

"UNDERSTAND IT NOW?" Bam! That made the point.

Boy Wonder learned things the hard way, but he learned them well. Once you make a decision, everyone has to follow without question. There is no negotiation. There is no discussion. Now he was in charge, and when he made a decision that was it.

The whiners in his department, always complaining about this and that. Why do I have four classes in a row? Why do I have to spend my free period going to meetings and listening to you talk every day? Why is the PD just you complaining about everyone in the department?

Worst of all, everyone was complaining about his new decision. The history curriculum would be taught by topic, rather than chronologically. And all these losers were having a hard time with it. Oh, we can't do that. Oh it's never been done before. Oh, the kids will never understand this. The kids would understand what he told them to understand.

Just thinking about it made him hungry. And there was a special at Burger King today. They had extra bacon on the Whoppers and if you bought two of them you got a free drink or something. Plus there was a machine there, so he could refill his drink as much as he wanted. Gallons of Coca Cola. It was already 12 o' clock, a great time to skip out and pretend there was business.

But what was this? An email saying that the staff had demanded professional conciliation? Article 24 of the contract? He was supposed to explain why he wanted it this way? Because he said so! That's why! That should be good enough for anyone.

He would show those bastards. He would rate them all ineffective. Plus he would save time. From now on, he'd write the observations from Burger King. He'd make notes on his iPad while eating, and kill two birds with one stone. Then, when he was good and ready, he'd sit in the classrooms and fill out the dates. This would show those bastards who's boss.

But on the other hand, he'd been rating them all ineffective anyway. Would they even notice? Sure they would, when he started writing things that hadn't actually happened. Let them complain. It would be his word against theirs, and they were a bunch of losers who couldn't even figure how to duck out for a quick cheeseburger. Good thing for them, because anyone he caught stealing time from the school would get a letter in their frigging files.

Now all he had to do was check the names on the professional conciliation complaint and put letters in their frigging files. He couldn't wait to go and tell Dad about it. After a few smacks, maybe Dad would say he was proud. But probably not.

It didn't matter. This was the way to show those bastards the way, and bastards need to be shown the way.

Ms. Fitz had had it with Boy Wonder. He would always come in 8th period on Friday when there was a school football game or something and write her up because there weren't enough students there. In fact, everyone had had it with Boy Wonder. The problem was, no one would say anything.

Boy Wonder decided one morning that history would now be taught by topic rather than chronologically. Every single teacher hated the idea, but no one knew what to do.

Chapter leader said file a Professional Conciliation Complaint under Article 24. He said he'd co-sign it if they wanted, but someone would have to sign it who taught the courses. This was a tough thing to do. After all, there is no wrath quite like the wrath of a wounded Boy Wonder. Anyone who signed it was going to be observed each and every day and rated ineffective in everything no matter what. There had to be a solution. But what was it?

Ms. Fitz had a bottle of Thorazine at home from when she'd cleaned out her uncle's old apartment. From what she'd read, it seemed just the thing to address Boy Wonder's issues. But how could she get him to take it? You couldn't just walk up to someone and say, "Hey, I think you're psychotic and maybe it would be a good idea for you to take these meds." Besides, Boy Wonder clearly believed he was smarter than anyone else. He said so to anyone who would listen pretty much all the time.

Ms. Lopez, the science teacher, would know what to do. After all, she had been a nurse. There had to be a way to do it.

"That's a tough problem," said Ms. Lopez. "You're gonna have to give it to him every day. What does he do every day?"

"We think he slips out to fast food places every day. He's always bringing back wrappers from Burger King and Popeye's. He acts like he doesn't know how they got there. But every day there are new ones."

"That won't work," said Ms. Lopez. "We can't follow him to his favorite fast food joints every day. We have to work. What about cyanide? You'd only have to use that once."

"We don't really want to kill him," answered Ms. Fitz. "Although I don't suppose anyone would miss him if we did." Ms. Fitz mused over that for a few moments.

"Just a thought," said Ms. Lopez. "Does he ever eat or drink anything in the office?"

"We think he eats the burgers while his blinds are pulled down."

"Are you sure?" asked Ms. Lopez.

"We're not," admitted Ms. Fitz. "No one wants to know what he does in there, because whatever it is, everyone thinks it's too gross to know about."

"Okay," said Ms. Lopez. "What about drinks? What does he drink?"

"He loves his Keurig machine. He is always drinking Dunkin Donuts coffee out of that World's Best Administrator cup. Can we pour something in the cup?"

"No," answered Ms. Lopez. "You can't be around the cup enough. We're gonna have to find a way to inject the Thorazine into the K-cups. Every one of them. And when he gets new ones, we'll have to do those too. Can we get into his office when he isn't there?"

"No one has a key. He doesn't trust anyone in there. No one is allowed to drink his Dunkin Donuts coffee except him and the principal, when she visits."

"We're gonna have to find someone with a master key." said Ms. Lopez. "Maybe we can cut it with Xanax. A lot of teachers have Xanax."

A lot of teachers have supervisors like Boy Wonder, thought Ms. Fitz. "When can we do this?" she asked.

"We'll plan over the break and do it when we get back," answered Ms. Lopez. "Happy holidays."

"I think we're gonna have a great New Year," said Ms. Fitz.

After all this time I can finally take a deep breath. Old Ms. Hazelton, the wretched harridan who always asks me questions at meetings and gets all smug when I don't answer is finally gone! No more, "Oh, can you we come in your classroom and watch you teach that?" No more, "Gee, could you give a demonstration of those techniques for us all to observe." No more, "Why don't you come into my class and demonstrate that for me and my students?"

Man I had it up to here with that nonsense. But I lucked out last year. First, she got cancer. Then it metamorphosed or something. Then she needed this procedure, and she needed that procedure, and the coolest things started to happen. Parent called me and asked why she was absent so much! I knew it was a good idea to make her teach the Regents courses this year, even though she hadn't taught them in a decade! And boy did it pay off!

No, Mr. Parent, I have no idea why she's been out for six days.
No, Mr. Grandfather, I'm as shocked as you are that she was absent the week before the exam.

Man I am a genius. I mean, I felt this coming on. It was just the earth communicating with me.  I was at one with nature. I feel perfectly serene and at peace with the universe. I feel every vibration, and each vibrations gives me yet another sign. Man, I could really go for one of those Whopperinos at Burger King. What a great idea to put a Whopper in a burrito. That's the kind of thing I would have thought of if I were working there.

So when everyone comes in, I'll be all, "No, I'm sorry. Ms. Hazelton won't be coming back." And they'll be all, "Why? What happened?" And I'll be all, "Well, I can't really discuss it." Another one bites the dust, and another notch in my belt.

They will PISS THEIR PANTS! It will be a thing of wonder and beauty. They just fall, one after another. One has heart palpitations, another has a heart attack right in the hall, one drops dead and now this! What could be better? Yeah, I'm bad. Yeah this could happen to you. I'm like a ninja. I swoop down, you see nothing. Then, just like that, you are HISTORY, BABY!

Who's gonna turn down that voluntary mandatory meeting now, bitches? Oh, you're busy? Oh, you have kids at home? What, you've got the sniffles? Oh, too bad. You remember what happened to Ms. Hazelton, don't you? Yeah what a shame.

Chapter Leader can bitch and moan from now until Doomsday, but legal says once they go out, they never go back in. This is a definite Feather in My Cap. The ground will tremble where I trod, and the lowly teachers will make way for me. This is the pinochle of my success, the wind beneath my wings, the straw that broke the camel's back.

From these lofty heights, I can see everyone below me. I am bound to make principal once they notice how many tenured teachers I sent away. Man I could really go for some Popeye's chicken right about now. Let me just lock up my office, slip out, and drive away. No one realizes how clever I was to turn down my parking spot. They all think it was for the handicapped teacher, so I'm a hero, but actually it was so no one could tell when I was out. It's inconvenient walking three blocks to the car but it's worth it when I leave an hour or two early every day.

Top of the world, baby!

Crap this is boring. Blah, blah, blah, triangles. Square this, square that. If only I can keep my eyes open for long enough to write this down...13, 14, 15 kids raising their hands. Let me make a quick note....

Only two students raised their hands.

That's show 'em. Jeez, what is this idiot next to me writing. How the hell did he ever get to be AP? Asked penetrating questions.  Heh. "Penetrating." I don't even know what this teacher is talking about. Jeez, is it fifteen minutes yet? That son of a bitch chapter leader will toss another one of my observations if I don't stay for the whole 15. Man why do they make this so damn hard?

Ineffective.

That makes me feel just a little better. Well, sorry, but this teacher just doesn't make me want to go out and draw these triangles. I mean, she isn't even wearing a skirt. When I get my school, all the teachers will wear skirts.

Let me look over at what that son of a bitch at the next desk is writing. Highly effective? Students are engaged? What drugs is this guy taking and where can I get some? You know, I kind of hate walking all the way to the barber shop to buy drugs.I wonder if there are some kids in the building I can buy from. Maybe I could raise a few grades and get them for free. Oh man. I just wrote that on the school iPad. Let me cross it out. Do those tech guys see this stuff? Maybe I should buy my own iPad.

I'm gonna have to talk my pal in the next seat into lowering those ratings or there's gonna be even more norming. I don't want to spend even more time with one of those assholes who rates everyone effective. Jeez, why can't we just go out last period Friday and write up the teachers who have too many absent kids?  Man, I cannot stop thinking about that Popeye's commercial. Two pieces of chicken, two sides and a biscuit for five bucks? For ten bucks, you buy two and that's a meal. Plus at Popeye's you can refill the drinks, so fifteen Coca Colas is not out of the question. Mmmm. Fifteeen Coca Colas.

Three minutes and forty five seconds and I'm outta here. But no. This bozo's shaking his head like he wants to stay the whole period. Can I just leave even if he stays? Oh my gosh he's writing again. Excellent engagement? What the hell is up with that? These kids are all sitting around drawing triangles. They're talking about a bunch of crap that I can't even understand. And they aren't even throwing in big words. Where's the rigor? Where's the grit?

Ineffective.

Oh my gosh this idiot is writing highly effective and I'm not even high. Jeez, are we gonna have to talk about this crappy lesson? I have to get to the barber shop and it's at least a twenty minute drive over to Popeye's. Man, why can't they build one of those joints around here? Nah. Then I'd have to share the chicken with the students and that bitch Feinstein. They'd all be, "Oh, I saw Mr. Wonder at Popeye's."

Oh crap! A fire drill! And me with only two minutes to go. What a waste of time! And now this idiot is going to want to talk about how wonderful the lesson is. Maybe I can slip off to my car. I could probably get over to Popeye's have a nice fifteen Coca Cola lunch, make a quick run to the barber shop, and get back to the school in an hour or two. I'll say I was inspecting the perimeter. Jeez, where did I hear that word? What does that even mean? Well, probably no one will ask.

Oh man! This guy wants to talk to me about the lesson. We can't write it up. Doesn't he know that? What the hell is the point? Hmm... maybe I could write the teacher up during the fire drill. Look at that. She's just standing there talking to some student. And a lot of the kids are just standing around doing nothing.

Ineffective.

I don't care I'm writing it up. And if the other guy doesn't, I'll call it dereliction of duty. That's the ticket. You know what's wrong with this system? The idiots they hire. I don't know how this guy ever became AP, and I'm never going norming with him again. When I become principal, you can bet I'm not bringing this douchebag with me. He loves this, he loves that. Highly effective all over the place.


I can tell you one thing, that guy is never gonna make principal.

The staff looked at the sign in amazement. What does it mean? Well it could be anything. Is that all he's gonna do? That would be a net positive. Does it mean he won't observe me the next time we have half a day and there are only eight students in my class? I mean, it would be great if he were busy modifying book distribution. What exactly is that anyway? Well, what's the difference? Better him than me.

Say, another mused. Does that mean he won't be calling me into meetings where I get heart palpitations? Every time I walk into one of those meetings I feel like I need to go to the emergency room. Usually I just go to the urgent care, but that's 50 bucks a pop now, and when they send me to the ER it's another 150. I really can't afford to keep seeing those guys more than once or twice a month anymore.

Could it be, a young teacher thought, that I don't have to come in at 5 AM and stay until 7 PM writing rubrics anymore? Half of my friends have quit and they'd only been here a year or two. I'd quit too if I weren't stuck with tens of thousands of dollars in student loans. I'd rather work at Panera Bread, all things being equal. 

Another teacher wondered, gee, if he sticks to those modifications, whatever the hell they are, maybe I won't have another heart attack in the hallway. Man, that sucked having that heart attack. I mean sure, it was nice being in the hospital for a few weeks, because of course that meant I didn't have to see the guy. And the doctors did make me recuperate at home for a while. But hey, when I came back it was the same old stuff, why were you absent? I was ABSENT because I had a frigging HEART ATTACK!

Yet another teacher walks by and says, out loud, "I wonder if my buddy Jim would still be alive if this policy had been in effect." What a way to go, he thinks. All alone and tortured over threats. "You'd better get a comp-time position that's at least four periods a day or I'm gonna have to rate you ineffective," Boy Wonder told him, How many people can find a position like that? What are the odds? Do they even exist?

One of the teachers comes back, and wonders if her friend, stuck in another school, so sick she probably can barely drag herself to work, would have been brought up on charges and facing dismissal if Boy Wonder had been modifying book distribution. Why the hell would anyone be so cruel as to do that to someone so close to retirement? But he'd done it once, he'd done it twice, and he'd do it again. What was the big deal about having teachers older than he was in his department? It wasn't like they were after his job.

Everyone loved the policy idea Boy Wonder wrote. But likely it was just another simple error in basic English usage, another borderline incomprehensible utterance from a person who some principal inexplicably saw fit to lead a department. Probably he'd be back observing and rating things that never happened, failing to see things that did happen, and running out for yet another three-hour fast food lunch by tomorrow.

Another grievance. This wasn't right, that wasn't right, blah, blah, blah. When I was a teacher I never filed a grievance. I just did whatever the hell I could to look good, and in two years I moved out of that crappy classroom, not that I ever wanted to be there anyway.
 
Look at this. Oh man this sucks. How the hell can anyone put up with this crap? That bastard Chapter Leader got Walsh's letter removed to his file just because it wasn't a file letter! What the hell is up with that? He was all, "Oh, they have to write a Counseling Memo, and oh, the teacher has to sign and say I understand a copy of this is going to my file." What a bunch of crap. I can do whatever I want!

Give me a break. Who the hell needs to write Counseling Memos, with all that extra gobbledygook on the bottom? Do they think I have time to search for that template instead of just using a blank one? Don't they know I have observations to do? What, do they want me to use this template instead of that template? I tell you, in the small schools they don't have these stinking Chapter Leaders to say do this and don't do that. 

It was just an oversight. Just a little note to let Walsh know what an asshole he was for leaving the voluntary mandatory meeting five minutes early. How the hell am I supposed to run a voluntary mandatory meeting when people think they can leave five minutes early? There's a lot of important stuff going on at those meetings, and if they don't do those things I will have to do them myself. And I'm busy!

In fact, right now I could really go for one of those Italian heroes. They call them The Godfather and it's on this amazing semolina bread. They put mortadella on those things, but I tell you, to me it tastes like bologna. Not that it's a bad thing. But what the hell is really the difference other than the big slices with that funny looking stuff in them?

Anyway, I just checked a bulletin board he put up and there's no rubric on it. Who the hell wants to look at a bulletin board without a rubric? How are we supposed to impress the superintendent if there aren't rubrics all over everything? I will show that bastard. I'm writing a file letter now. I'll have a meeting with him, listen to whatever crap they have to say, date the thing after the meeting and put it in his damn file.

I know, they're gonna be all blah, blah, blah, it's no big deal. Walsh is a big hero, and the newspapers wrote about him. Well I don't care. I will get that son of a bitch one way or another. As soon as all the hooplah dies down I will rate his sorry ass ineffective again. Meanwhile, I'll write this letter, staple the old one to it, and then they will both be in his file. I'll say it's all about his attitude. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Let Chapter Leader blather on about progressive discipline and whatever crap there is in the contract. It's all the same to me. "This is what I choose to do," I'll say. Maybe I'll say, "with all due respect" first. It always sounds better when you say "with all due respect,"not that I give a flying hoot what it sounds like.

What does it feel like to mess with me and have it blow up in your face? You will know, Walsh, and no stinking Chapter Leader is gonna get in my way. It's like in my favorite song:

We hope Neil Young will remember Southern men don't need him around anyhow.

This will teach them to mess with folks from the South Shore of Long Island. We don't stand for that kind of guff from losers who can't make it past school teacher.

Man, I hate this guy. He is always complaining to Chapter Leader about my mandatory voluntary meetings. He thinks just because they're voluntary he doesn't have to go. Doesn't he even know what voluntary mandatory is all about? The bastard. And then Chapter Leader runs to the principal saying I've raised the bar on lowering the bar. What the hell does that even mean?

I'm walking around sticking my face in every notebook. Casting a critical eye and looking for the grit and rigor. These lazy kids. Where is the grit?

You know what I could go for? One of those chicken fried steak thingies. Only place I know I can get it is maybe 45 minutes away. And a 22 ounce draft in a frosty mug. Will anyone notice if I'm out of the building for like three hours? Man I really want that chicken fried steak. With that white gravy. Maybe with mashed potatoes. I think they have a $9.99 special if I get there before 6. Maybe I'll just eat and go home. Who's gonna know?

One kid not writing anything. Two. Three. Four kids in room not writing anything. Therefore no one is participating. Ineffective. Let me write that in my low inference notes on this swine. And as I walk around, sticking my face into every kids paper and every kid's face, I can see they are afraid of something. Probably the teacher. Ineffective. Low inference notes on that son of a bitch reflecting that.

Man this room is really well done. Beautiful. Look at all that art around. Student work everywhere. Very colorful. Someone really cares about this room but it can't be the teacher because there are no rubrics. Ineffective.

Let me check if he has a lesson plan, that son of a bitch, let me check all the papers on the desk, move them around, shuffle through everything, make a big show to let everyone know who's in charge. (Me.) Look at that. What a mess this desk is now. How can anyone find anything? Well, I'm the boss so I don't have to clean it up.

"Where's your lesson plan?"

"It's on the computer."

Cheeky bastard. An answer for everything. Man, the arrogance. I wanted that copy right now. Can I confiscate his laptop? After all, I'm the boss. It's my right. Would that principal back me up? Or would he be, oh, it's his property, and stuff. I tell you, we have to nip this stuff in the bud. Nip, nip, nip. In the bud! You mollycoddle these damn teachers and they're all, the contract says this, and the contract says that. Well screw the contract. I'm the boss and I can do any damn thing I want.

Look at these kids. They're all frozen, in fear or something. None of them are answering questions, let alone volunteering. They act like some alien from outer space has walked in here and they're all too shocked to speak. Ineffective. This bastard teacher, in my low inference opinion, is a total piece of crap and needs to be fired. Another year and I can make it so. Man, I can't wait for that next Star Trek movie. I wonder if I could get tickets online in one of those places where you reserve the seats. You can't begin that stuff too early. Let me write that in my low inference notes.

What is up with those UFT validators and they keep saying the teachers who I say suck actually don't suck?  Shouldn't the fact that I think they suck be good enough for anyone? After all, I've been to supervisor school and Danielson training. I've learned how to look at these reprehensible morons in a totally objective fashion. Have these teachers done that?

I mean, Jesus, I taught for two whole years before I moved out, and I'm ready to move up and out of this craphole first chance I get. Man, this teacher doesn't look happy. He's all nervous and stuff. What the hell is wrong with this jerkwad? Ineffective.

Look at that piece of garbage on the floor. I ask a kid to pick it up and he refuses. Man, what an uncooperative class. And when I ask the kids to pass the can around so everyone can pick up garbage they refuse again. Clearly this teacher has not trained these children properly. Ineffective. 

Man, what an awful atmosphere in that classroom.  And that idiot told me it was his best class.  But every time I walk into any classroom it's like this. You know I never see a good atmosphere when I walk in a classroom. What could be making the kids act so uptight?

Gotta be these lowlife teachers, of course. Ineffective.

Oh man what a day! Why does this stuff always happen to me? Let me start from the beginning. Today, 5th period, I'm observing old Mrs. Weiner, and I'm drifting off. Everything was peaceful, and I'm doodling a pic of Wendy's ghost pepper chicken sandwich on my low inference notes. And they have ghost pepper fries too! I could go for some of them right now.

Anyway, old Wiener is droning on about some book or something, or whatever, and I'm trying to figure how to get out and back with enough time to hit Wendy's, and all of a sudden Weiner starts shaking and stuff. I mean wow, it was weird. And then the kids are all, "Mr., call 911," and "Mr., do something!" And I'm here, taking notes and Jesus I've still got 15 observations to do and just a week to do them.

Anyway, one of the kids pulls out a cell and calls 911 and they take old Wiener to the hospital. I confiscated the phone and reported the student, of course. And the AP Security is all, "No, you can't suspend the kid for that." And I noted in my low inference notes that students were using cell phones right there in the classroom. Ineffective. No one was on task and Old Wiener is just doing nothing about it. Ineffective.

Anyway, it turns out Old Wiener had a stroke right there in the classroom. Who knew? Never saw anything like that before. So anyway, Chapter Leader is all, "You can't use that observation," and I'm all, "Hey, there's nothing that says I can't." If I didn't use it, he'd be the first one to be all over my ass about rating someone ineffective with only three observations.

After all, once they carted off Old Wiener I didn't hear any, you know, higher order questions, and I sat there until the bell rang. The kids were completely off task. Was there learning going on? I mean, the kids were panicked and running all over the place and there was really no classroom control at all. Plus none of the kids were doing the reading. How am I supposed to rate that anything but ineffective?

I mean, you don't see me having a stroke in the middle of the class or anything, not that I actually teach one. But if I did I would make it my business not to go having a stroke in front of my supervisor. I mean, who wants to actually watch stuff like that? And to do it in front of the kids? That shows absolutely no consideration. Ineffective again.

And Chapter Leader is all blah, blah, blah, about this. Jeez, why doesn't he go bother someone else?  I don't see him bothering anyone except me. It's harassment is what it is. You know what's wrong with old people? Well, aside from the obvious. They are always complaining. Oh, this hurts, and oh that hurts, and I'm so tired. Well guess what? I'm tired too. I'm tired of listening to all your crap. How about leaving me alone and letting me do my job? Isn't that what I'm here for?

Maybe I don't have to bother trying to become a principal. When the superintendent sees how many high-salaried teachers I'm getting rid of, through retirement, 3020a, or whatever, maybe he'll see I have a place in Upper Management. I hear they go out to lunch in fancy restaurants every day, and that they even have expense accounts. Man, imagine wearing a nice suit every day and going someplace with white tablecloths.

That would be a real draw. If I can get my high school girlfriend a teaching gig after I get rid of Old Weiner, I'll bet she'd be really impressed if she saw me move up into the supe's office. Maybe I can get her to come out to lunch with me. Maybe she can be my assistant.

Good times, and they're only getting better. 

Christ the damn principal is an idiot. His cabinet is like a bunch of jackals, all jockeying for his job. Well I don't want his damn job. I'm gonna get my own little school, with maybe a dozen teachers. You get paid the same and you don't have the headaches, like old Feinstein, or that bastard Walsh, complaining, being heroes, filing APPR complaints, grievances and Americans with Disabilities Act crap.

And dont think I don't know that damn Chapter Leader isn't egging them on. When I'm principal I'm gonna make sure every teacher is brand new so I can do whatever the hell I feel like without some damn old Chapter Leader breathing down my back with oh, the contract says this and the contract says that.  Contract, shmontract. They'll jump when I say jump, and they'll jump out the damn window if I tell them to.

And now the principal, after praising me all year, is telling me he doesn't like how I do the teacher teams, just because some superintendent says they don't like the way I do the teacher teams. How the hell am I supposed to get my job done if I don't have teacher teams to do it for me? Even with teachers sitting around in closets at 5 AM just to do their jobs I can't get my job done unless I have minions to do it for me. And of course that bastard Chapter Leader is supporting this too.

Christ I have the best teacher teams in the building! They ran the mock election. They checked out a bunch of online programs. They wrote the midterms. They hung up all the bulletin boards on the first floor, and have a damn rubric on each and every one. They've written all the curriculum, and they even rewrote the stuff that was no good, and the stuff that was good. But do I get thanks? Do I get a promotion? Do I get an attaboy? Oh, no, I get reamed out for having the best teacher teams in the building.

He should be kissing my butt, and everyone knows I have the best butt in the building. But NOOOO! The folks upstairs say it's gotta be inquiry. I'll give them inquiry. How the hell am I supposed to do this stuff if I have to work on it myself? Don't they know there are observations to be done? File letters to write? And Christ, when am I supposed to go out to lunch? It's not like there's anyplace good to eat in this neighborhood. And jeez, how am I supposed to get rid of all the deadwood if I don't even have time to write up all the things I'm accusing them of? In fact, if I have to do all this project crap I won't even have time to make up all the stuff I write up.

You know what I could go for? I really could go for a Pattimelt Supreme like they make over at the diner. You know, with the curly fries and onion rings and everything. Let me check petty cash. Twenty bucks ought to do it.

"I'm gonna go out and observe classes."

Now how can I keep the teams working on doing my stuff while making the principal think they're doing that inquiry stuff? Well, they're supposed to be looking at student work. Maybe I could hang some on the walls. No, I'll get them to hang the stuff on the walls.  They could do it during their teacher teams. After all, that's student work, and they are looking at it.

This is gonna be a pain in the ass. I'm gonna have to spend every minute in those stupid teams instead of just popping in every twenty minutes to make sure they're working. And if the principal walks in I could strike up a conversation or something.

"Hey, how about that differentiated instruction? Did you make sure every worksheet was optimized to the level of every student? Did you break the class into three levels? Why not four? Why not ten?"

I don't understand these ungrateful bastards. I mean, here I am, giving them chapter and verse on what's wrong with them and not even a thank you. Do you see any of them standing up and saying what's wrong with them? Of course not. Weak as water!

You know some of those schools in California have like, a Taco Bell in the cafeteria. Can you imagine that? You don't even have to leave work, and BAM! A Taco Supreme right there. Why the hell can't we do that in New York? When I'm principal, I'll bring a Taco Bell to my own school. And the principal eats the school lunch free, baby.

Not this principal. Does it occur to him to go out to lunch at all? No. He eats that same school lunch the kids eat. What's the point of being principal if you have to eat like that? And he goes to the cafeteria himself to get it. When I'm principal, I'll have some teacher pick up my lunch from someplace good. And that teacher can pick up the tab. Maybe for a C6 assignment or something. Maybe in exchange for an effective rating in 4E.

This will not stand! It's an outrage!  Man I hope those bastards at the diner don't overcook my Pattimelt. I'll send it back. For now maybe I can talk the principal into running a cooking class so that the kids can make my lunch. And if they don't cook it right I'll rate the teacher ineffective.

Yeah. That's the ticket.

This is gonna be great. No one will mess with me after this. Let me just drop this casually.

"I'm gonna be out tomorrow. I have to go testify against Mrs. Grubelwitz at her 3020a hearing. What's that? Oh, that's when we fire a teacher."

Heh. This one's a blabbermouth. She's gonna tell everyone.

Once this gets out, no one is gonna miss another voluntary mandatory meeting. That old bat Feinstein missed one last week, and I want to put a letter in her file. But that bastard Chapter Leader keeps saying that if I call the meetings voluntary people don't have to come. Doesn't he know that they are voluntary mandatory? Why does he keep harping on the voluntary part? Once we fire Grubelwitz, I'll put letters in anyone's file if they miss a voluntary mandatory meeting. Let me stop this new teacher.

"Hey I'm gonna be out tomorrow. Send me an email if you need anything. Yeah, I have to go and testify against Mrs. Grubelwitz. Yeah, we're gonna fire her." 

It's all finally coming together. I used to have to worry about bulletin boards but now, with almost everyone going to voluntary mandatory meetings, I have the bulletin boards full of all sorts of crap, with rubrics and everything. That damn mock election was a gold mine. I mean, here I am in New York City, with all those liberals, and I have all the bulletin boards covered with the life stories of just about every Republican candidate for President. I mean, sure most of them have lost, but where else is there an entire bulletin board full of stuff about Carly Fiorina?

The only thing is people keep talking about that bastard Walsh. Why can't he just go away? He looks old enough to retire. Everyone here is all, "Oh, why didn't you go to his ceremony?" The next time someone asks me that, I'll just say, "Hey, I had to prepare my testimony so I could support firing a teacher, and maybe you'll be the next teacher we fire." Screw with me, will you?

Look at them out there talking. They're starting to look worried. Yeah that's right, you could be next. Look at me the wrong way and I'll have you up on charges, you bastards.

I wonder what they have to eat around that place. I'm thinking Mexican. Maybe I can grab some enchiladas around lunchtime. Yeah, that would be good. Maybe I can get home early and take a nap. Here's another one I can tell.

"Yeah, I have to cancel our meeting tomorrow. Yes I know I've canceled five times, and it's been two months since I observed you, but I may be popping in again next period. Or maybe not. Who knows? Anyway, yeah I gotta testify against old Grubelwitz. Two strikes, and she is outta there! You like baseball don't you?"

This will be the talk of the department. They will tremble as I walk by. The voluntary mandatory meetings are gonna be full. That stupid Chapter Leader can shout that the sky is falling, but he can't stop mandatory meetings as long as they're voluntary. Jeez that guy is a pain in the ass. I hope the sewers of Rangoon back up in his breakfast. Wait a minute, let me strike up a casual conversation.

"Oh, hey, listen, Mr. Washington, I won't be able to attend your mandatory voluntary meeting tomorrow, but could you please take copious notes and post them on Google Docs? I'd like to check them out in between testifying against Mrs. Grubelwitz. Oh yeah we're gonna fire her. You see what happens to people who don't do voluntary mandatory meetings? Could you be next? You never know. Nah, just kidding. Or am I?"

Keep 'em guessing, that's what I say. This is gonna be a great week. And next year I'll get that bitch Feinstein too.

Holy crap. This can't be happening. And just when I had all my ducks in a row.

That bastard principal went and held a ceremony to make Mr. Walsh teacher of the year. Blah, blah, blah, he rushed into a burning building and saved a baby. So what? Anyone could do something like that. A few stories in the newspaper, a feature on a network or two, and the idiot principal gets all carried away and makes a big deal out of it.

Doesn't he know how inconvenient this is for me? Isn't it his job to look out for me, for chrissake?

Now they had a big ceremony, and I hear everyone was speaking about how wonderful he is, and no one gave me any credit at all for sitting through three observations with him. That's 45 minutes of my life that I'm never gonna get back. Sure, I may have napped a little, but I mean, Jesus, how could a guy that old be a good teacher anyway? I told the guy he should retire, because there was no way I was gonna give him a good observation.

And Walsh was so rude to me, just because he didn't understand my low inference notes, which I didn't have to show him in the first place. I mean, so what if I drew a few pictures? Was I supposed to actually listen to all that crap about the industrial revolution, and child labor and blah, blah, blah? Doesn't anyone understand how boring it is to sit through all these classes? I mean, I did it when it was in high school and that oughta be enough for anyone. What does this mean? What does that mean? How the hell am I supposed to know? I rated him ineffective and that ought to be good enough for anyone.

And now the principal is all, "Why didn't you go to the ceremony?" Like I have time to sit through that nonsense. I had an important date with a Shake Shack Burger. Man I love Shake Shack. It's really a lot better than Five Guys. I mean, you can't get cheese fries at Five Guys, and man I love me some cheese fries.

So anyway, now it's April, and I have to do one more observation on that Walsh guy. So what do I do? If I just go in and trash him again, I look like an idiot because he's a "hero" and all and everyone "loves" him. But if I go in and give him a great observation I look like an idiot because I trashed him three times before. A black eye either way.

Can I just go back and change those three observations? Does anyone actually look at that stuff? I know Walsh did. That son of a bitch. Him with all, "No, this didn't happen," and, "This happened and you didn't write about it." Like I give a crap. If I wrote about what actually happened, how was I gonna give him that rating? People just don't think anymore.

Do they know how hard I worked to get into this position? Do they know how hard I'm working to get out of it? Of course not. People don't appreciate what I do. It's all Walsh this and Walsh that. Pretty soon he'll get a promotion instead of me. Well I'm not gonna let that happen.

Oh man, I've gotta take charge of this situation. If I don't want Walsh rated ineffective, I guess I could go in and observe him like maybe five times and say they were all great. But it's so boring to sit in classes. Maybe I could just copy some of my buddy's good observations without going in. Then I could just present them to Walsh and ask him to sign them. Would he do it, or would he make a big stink about my not having gone in?

You can never tell with guys like Walsh. Why the hell did he have to save that baby? Doesn't he even think about how much trouble that causes me? What an inconsiderate bastard he is. But if I don't make him look good, then I look bad. If I don't make him look bad, I can't get rid of him. What to do?

I'm gonna call Domino's. I have that coupon that gets two for one. Two with everything. It'll help me think.

  Jesus do I hate this. The stupid contract says I have to actually meet with teachers before I give them their observations and I just had one thrown out because I forgot. That's not gonna happen again. Stupid contract. I don't see why I even have to go in their classrooms at all. I could just write the observations and email them to the stupid teachers. Don't they know how busy I am?

"Thank you for coming here today, Ms. Feinstein. Remember I'm always here to support you in any way I can."

"You'd support me more if you didn't rate everything I do ineffective," she says. The bitch.

"Of course I'm very sad to do that," I say.

"Why did you do it then?"

"For one thing, you didn’t differentiate your worksheets. What about the ELLs?"

"There aren’t any ELLs," she says. Wise ass.

"That’s not the point. How do you know every one of your students is on the same level as that worksheet?"

"I have 34 students in that class." Sheesh. Always with the excuses.

"How many of them are ELLs"

"None."

"Well that's not the point. The point is you didn't do enough formative assessment."

"Isn't it formative assessment when I walk around the room and correct the kids' work?" Again with the excuses. If I get rid of her I can probably hire my high school girlfriend. She'd dress up the place for sure! I make a serious face.

"What I'd like to see is something more interactive, like the green and red cards, for example. I love the green and red cards. You can't go wrong with the green and red cards."

"What are you talking about?" How can she ask me that? Didn't I give an entire meeting on the green and red cards?

"Well you give them green and red cards, and if they understand they put up the green cards. If they don't they put up the red cards. You can't go wrong with the green and red cards," I tell her, with a knowing nod.

"What if they hold up the green cards when they really don't understand?" Smartass.

"Then you use the cards again until they admit they don't understand," I tell her.

"What if they simply say they understand over and over and you don't find out they don't understand until they take a test? Isn't it better if I just look at their work and see what they can and cannot do?"

Man is she a pain in the ass. You know what I could go for? One of those Fiber One cheesecake bars. Man I love me a Fiber One cheesecake bar. But NO. I'm stuck sitting here with old Feinstein.

"JESUS CHRIST WILL YOU JUST USE THE DAMN GREEN AND BLUE CARDS? WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU ANYWAY?"

Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Everyone in the outer office is looking at me. I look back at them and they all turn away. I look again. None of them are gonna rat me out. They know they'll pay for that.

I wonder how long it will take before I'm finally rid of this old bat. 

That old bat Feinstein keeps confounding me. No, not confounding, vexing. Yeah that was the word. After all, Penguin used it on the latest episode of Gotham, so it must be a good word. No one vexes the Boy Wonder!

But she didn't know I had an ace up my sleeve. After much pleading, the stubborn principal had finally come to his senses. Jeez, it takes too much time talking him into stuff. He always wants me to explain everything.

Jeez, what's up with that? What am I, some kid taking a test? I'm an assistant principal already. No way should I have to explain myself.

Anyhoo, he agreed to fold her mediation program, because we have a SPARK counselor,  who the hell cares about conflicts between kids anyway, and the upshot was she would lose her stupid comp-time job. She would now teach five classes instead of just three. We never wanted to give her that job anyway. She just got it because of "seniority." Well, when I'm principal, no one will have seniority. Once anyone started to even look senior, they would be history!

Anyway, this was great! I could give her two freshman classes, put them anywhere in the damn building, and she hadn't taught those classes in years. Even if the principal actually observed her like he promised, she was sunk before she even began. New classes in the middle of the semester? The kids would be nuts from day one, and I'd hand-pick them just to be sure. Soon I'd be rid of that wretched harridan. So I dashed off an email, because the idiot principal insists we inform people when we change their schedules. Jeez. What a pain in the ass.

Dear Ms. Feinstein:

Due to circumstances beyond our control, your position as mediator has been discontinued. Therefore you will be assigned two new classes in our new classroom, B-49.

Best and fondest regards,

Mr. Wonder

Heh. It was perfect! That room was in the basement right next to the boiler. There was no ventilation except for an indoor air-conditioner that blew out the power every time it got turned on. It was foolproof! And her with her heart condition and the asthma she was always bitching about, maybe she would just give us all a break and retire already. The class she had before that was in the computer room on the third floor. How the hell was she gonna drag her old ass down three flights of stairs and across the building to the basement in four minutes, especially with all those stupid bags she carried? You don't see me carrying stuff around.

But son of a bitch, that Chapter Leader ruined everything. He had a bunch of scumbags from the union inspect the air quality in all the converted closets, and had a written report saying that the room reeked of diesel and was unfit as a classroom. So we had to move the class to a real classroom. Damn. With windows and everything. Every time I try to get her out, they keep dragging her back in!

And now she's filed a grievance just because I have her in four different classrooms. The spineless principal says I have to find her real classrooms and that she shouldn't be running up and down the stairs all the time. Americans with Disabilities Act or some such nonsense. Where do they come up with this stuff? Man, I hope Trump wins. He won't pander to these geriatric bullies.  Jeez, if the old biddy can't walk a few staircases, she ought to be home growing flowers, or whatever the hell it is that old people do.

Now she's complaining that I shouldn't have ended her job via email. Oh, she wants the personal touch, does she? Well, I'll walk in and observe last period the Friday before vacation. And it doesn't really matter what she does because I'm just gonna copy the observation my best bud did when he trashed one of his teachers. Let her whine about how she didn't do this or that. It doesn't matter. Once I say she did it, she did it. I guess I'll have to change a few words to make it look like it was her subject. Man do I hate to write.

Ya know what I'm in the mood for? Maybe an egg roll. Or some of that moo goo gai pan. I'm gonna have to head out to that takeout joint. They cook pretty well for old people.

"Listen, if anyone is looking for me, tell them I'm out observing."

But boy do I love this system. It's tailor made for guys like me. And when I'm principal, every teacher on staff is gonna know just how I use it. No more wasting time with American with Disabilities Acts, or Chapter Leaders, or old geezers.

It's gonna be sweet!

Oh my gosh, that Chapter Leader is such a son of a bitch. How can he sit there, so smug, in front of the principal, mind you, and criticize my decisions. I wrote that Teacher Improvement Plan, it's the very best of the two I've written, and he has the audacity to question my judgement. It's, oh, the teacher should have input into her own improvement plan. What's up with that? Like, if she knew what to do, why the hell is she here in the first place? And how is someone that old supposed to make a judgment anyway?

And now with the questions.

"How many formative observations of Ms. Feinstein did you do this year?"

What? What the hell kind of question is that? It's none of his damn business how many I did! Calm down. Just say something.

"I don't recall," I say.

"I do," he says. "You did exactly zero."

How dare he? I jump on this.

"You can't say that!" I say. "You don't know how many I did!"

He turns to the old bat Feinstein and asks, "How many times did Mr. Wonder formatively observe you?"

"Zero," she says.

That bitch! How dare she speak of me in that tone of voice! I will get the last word here.

"Well, if you had an issue with the way I handled Ms. Feinstein, you haven't come to speak to me about it in a long time."

"I don't find talking to you a productive use of my time, Mr. Wonder," he says. The bastard!

I zing him. "Well, you've made that quite clear."

Jesus, this principal is beyond useless. Why doesn't he shut this guy up? Put a letter in his file. Throw him out a window for chrissake. Here I am, doing the work of the angels, and he just sits there. Is he gonna make me actually do these formative observations? Like I have nothing better to do? One day I'll be his boss and he will pay for failing to back me up.

Now Chapter Leader is going on and on about how I pick on people, how I don't have a good relationship, and all sorts of other nonsense. Holy crap, I can't stand to hear this one moment longer.

"I think Ms. Feinstein and I have a very good working relationship. We get along very well."

"You rated her ineffective. You placed her in the worst rooms in the building. She doesn't even want to talk to you. You think that's getting along very well?"

Christ the arrogance of this guy. I've been doing this job for two years, and I taught for three years before that. I have experience, and all he has is that big mouth. Man, if he were in my department I'd let him know what's what. I'd write the damn observation before I even went into the classroom, I'd get someone who understands all that damn Danielson crap to check it for me, and wham! He'd find out what happens to people who mess with me!

Jeez how long is this meeting gonna go on? I could use one of those protein shakes. Chocolate? Maybe strawberry. Oh my gosh, they want to make changes to the TIP. Am I gonna have to type this stuff again? The principal wants me to do formative observations? What the hell difference does he think that's gonna make? Like I hadn't made up my mind about that old broad the first time I laid eyes on her.

Oh man this job sucks. I cannot wait until I am principal. Things are gonna be different for sure. I will get back at Feinstein and my whole damn disloyal department. They'll see what happens when people step out of line.

It is with the deepest reverence that I compose this potentially perspicacious missive. To the entirety of you. Please accept my fond wishes. For a results-based period, and a values-oriented termination of our most recent quarter-month.

Inasmuch as we are embarking upon a renewed and reinvitalized marking period, it is of uttermost desirability. To enlighten one and all about several select upcoming occasions.

This is why I've decided, after much deep contemplation, to initiate mandatory voluntary meetings. So that we may reflect on our practice. On Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays the entire department will assemble. For mandatory voluntary meetings. I shall assign each of you. To a proactive working group, and you will examine student work to determine precisely why you failed to make it better.

To aid in this pursuit, I will meet each of you individually and explain exactly what you've done wrong so far. I have an entire book full of low inference notes highlighting your shortcomings. I will not allow them to block the advancement of my career our department.

Each week I shall notify you. Of my impending week’s voluntary mandatory meeting itinerary, unless I do not, in which case you shall be required to submit it for my approval three days in advance. Anyone failing to do so shall receive a counseling memo. Though mandatory meetings are strictly voluntary, itineraries are required. Attendance shall be taken and lateness will not be tolerated. Tardiness, I’m crestfallen to speculate, may not be in the finest interests of our Historically Unambiguous Department Mission.

Several of you have sent frivolous musings about child care, medical appointments, and in one isolated case, something known as "me time." I am then, ergo, of the understanding that several of you will not be in attendance during our impending series of mandatory voluntary meetings. The purpose of which was to contemplate the ongoing authentication of our preprofessional market output. For the uninitiated, this could spell the further understanding of topics germane to our fragmentation guidelines. It is, therefore, indispensable. Anyone not in attendance at mandatory voluntary meetings clearly has no interest in being rated effective or higher, and anyone on a TIP shall be required to attend additional mandatory voluntary meetings on weekends.

Were we not to have been approaching this crossroads, through the utilization of high impact practices, with a laser like focus on a balanced literacy program, we will begin to approach a Zone of Proximity to our objectives. Thus, by implementing holistic career maps, we can embark on a new and revolutionary pathway toward not only self-realization, but also the career and college readiness that our young scholars aspire toward.

This notwithstanding, we need to prioritize our action-based initiatives in order to deploy socio-economic defying best practices in assessment. This is why we need outcome-based action plans which generate paradigms, or pairs of dimes, whichever proves to be of greater value to the evaluated cohort.

In order to promote higher order thinking, via accountable talk, it’s of pivotal importance that we engage in formative assessment on an eight-minutely basis. As this shall be a topic, the mandatory voluntary meetings are not to be scoffed at.

And were I to conjecture as to the consequences of absence at the mandatory voluntary meetings, which shall be informal but bell to bell nonetheless, I’d venture only this. The incipient evaluation system shall be of considerably increased challenge for those of us who have not familiarized ourselves with the scaffolding of top-down cooperative working methodologies.

To those individuals who’ve failed to engage in school-based interactive mandatory voluntary pursuits, I’d caution that during observations there may be unfortunate action-based outcomes. Therefore I expect to see each and every one of you at the thrice weekly mandatory voluntary meetings, as my experience strongly suggests real-world pedagogy smiles at our construction-infused technological risk takers.

Did we have clarity now?

Best and convivial regards,

  Mr. Wonder

Oh no. Here comes that damn Chapter Leader again. What the hell is it he’s looking for this time? Jesus, when is that guy gonna retire?  Look how old he is. Why oh why do you have to be AP before you become principal? I could do the principal's job better than him in my sleep.

And there he goes again, this stupid Chapter Leader blathering about that damn Mrs. Feinstein. She’s not feeling well, she just got back from the stroke she suffered in the classroom, blah, blah, blah. Nothing but excuses. I knew it. Like it was me who gave her the stroke.

This is what happens when you work with old people. This one has heart palpitations, that one has high blood pressure, someone else collapsed in the hall. Like it's my fault all these losers can't take the heat. Unbelievable. I'll weed 'em out if this principal won't.

I sat in my office with Feinstein for 45 minutes telling her what she did wrong and she said nothing. Nothing! Not even a thank you for my advice. Just sat there writing notes. I told her about how she never does formative assessment, and how any competent teacher does formative assessment at least every eight minutes. I told her about the green cards and the red cards and how the kids should hold them up after every question, and not even a thank you. Old people don't appreciate a thing.

Then she goes crying to the Chapter Leader, this slippery lying bastard standing here wasting my time when I could be eating a sandwich or something. I wonder what they have in the cafeteria. I could do with a PB and J, but I wish they'd stop putting it on that whole wheat bread. Bloomberg was a great mayor except for that whole wheat crap. If I get to be mayor I'll put that white bread right back there, first thing.

Let me tell you, next year that broad is going from the trailer, to the third floor, back to the trailer, and back to the third floor on the other side of the building. She's gonna have to be Speedy Gonzalez just to get to class on time and if she's one nanosecond late I'll put a letter in her file. People are gonna know what happens to teachers who mess with me.

When I’m principal I won’t put up with this nonsense. If you can’t do the job, you’re out. There really should be a mandatory retirement age, like 50 or something. And when I’m superintendent I’ll show those principals what you do with whiners. You don’t hear me whining, even though I’m stuck in this crap job for at least two more years. Two years! Unbelievable. Me! If I were running this school right now we wouldn't be wasting our time with this crap. I'd let these losers know I'm not to be trifled with.

And now Chapter Leader is all, oh, why did you observe her on the half day when there were only eight kids in the class? How were they supposed to work on the project when all their partners decided to take the day off? Like it’s my fault she failed to motivate the kids to come that day. And it’s, oh, half the kids in the school didn’t show up. Like it’s my fault that all the teachers don’t care enough to make their students come to school. Where's the accountability?

When I’m principal, if teachers don’t get the kids to come on half days, heads will roll. You won’t see me mincing words. If your kids are not here on Monday, you don’t come Tuesday. And any teacher who doesn’t show up for mandatory voluntary meetings after school won’t be showing up at all.

And oh my gosh now he wants me not to count that observation, and to make it formative. Formative? What is up with this guy? Does he think I have time to do observations for nothing? After I wrote it up and everything? Like I haven’t got a life? Unbelievable. No way is there gonna be a chapter leader like this one when I have my own school. I'll pick a chapter leader who will lead the right way, by doing exactly what I say.

Oh, and this is rich. The principal said he would observe her instead of me. Sure. Like he’s gonna bother to observe this loser. And I’m supposed to just believe the Chapter Leader that he said this. Just take his word. Like I was born yesterday and I don’t know that everybody lies. Let me nod my head and pretend I’m thinking about it. Otherwise this conversation will take even longer.

Oh my gosh listen to this. Chapter Leader is asking me to imagine she were my mother and had to go through this. This takes the cake. Where does he come up with this stuff? Does he think I just got off the tomato truck from New Jersey? I can’t wait to run my own school. No way will I listen to this crap.

One day soon I’m gonna crawl out of this dump. I’m gonna be principal of my own little school and pick all the teachers. They’ll do any damn thing I ask and the Chapter Leader will do what I say, when I say, keep the bastards in line, or he’ll find himself out on his ass just like this old broad I have to keep hearing about. How much longer is he going to go on with this nonsense? Why didn’t I set my phone to ring so I could walk away and get the hell out of this conversation?

I guess I have to keep acting like I’m listening, because that’s what you do in this job. Let me give it two more minutes. God do I hate this job. I wish I could get out today. But just a few more years and I’m outta here. And the teachers I picked are gonna come with me. This principal can keep the rest of these losers.