Wonder why ATRs won't go that extra mile or try with all their heart to stay under the radar?

Read on.

An ATR in Queens, and is currently assigned to a middle school, that has had the proverbial DOE bus driven over her several times and suffers from PTSD was given the dreaded white envelope one day in January. It wasn't an envelope filled with fifty dollar bills but rather the "48 hour notice" meeting and to bring along a union rep.

For the next 48 hours, the ATR spent most of the day, both at home and in school, barfing her brains due to the effects of the PTSD and the 48 hours of not knowing what the hell was going on.

The ATR did have the presence of mind to bypass the school's chapter leader and turned instead to her district leader (we here at SBSB highly recommend this route for ATRs unless you have a real all-star as a chapter leader) to represent her in the meeting with the AP.

The day of the meeting came. This is what she was accused of...

Early in January a student meandered into her class along with the proverbial chip on her shoulder happened to be in a feisty mood that period. It so happens that this young lady was looking for an argument and who better to start it with than this ATR who was covering a class.

When the ATR refused to take the bait this student went to plan B. This student then called her a "racist bitch," "you're not my teacher," and the usual early teen anger that spews forth from an early teens mouth

Still, the ATR retained her poise and composure as if she had learned at the footsteps of Emily Post.

The student, ever so frustrated took her anger to the dean and claimed that the ATR purposely hit her in the face with a textbook. This is what precipitated the meeting with the ATR and her AP.

What the ATR did was place four textbooks at the middle of each table for the students to distribute to themselves. At no time were any textbooks or students in danger.

Of the 30 kids in the class, nine wrote statements and only two corroborated what the student claimed. The student and her best friend.

Praise be to some higher deity (be it God or Mulgrew) that this ATR didn't suck down a bottle of Xanax with a glass of vodka or that the students of her class had her back.

Were there any consequences befallen upon this student for taking her tongue and telling a lie? Of course not. Even if the AP or principal wished to there is nothing in the NYCDOE discipline code saying lying and being dishonest is wrong. And just as an aside, nowhere does it say that admins that lie are doing bad. Only teachers. Go figure.

What to do? The Crack Team suggests that this teacher and any and all teachers in the future that are falsely accused by a student is to take them to court. Hire Bryan Glass and sue the parents.Hell, represent yourself if you don't want to hire Bryan. Let the parents pay for their own lawyers or if they fail to show you get a summary judgement.

But thanks to the last 15 years of hatred of teachers in the media, of politicians, and nationwide, students have learned that teachers make inviting targets.

One more thing, OSI and the AP know before hand that the kid is full of shit, Yet they let it drag on. Name them in the lawsuit as well.

So I spent the beginning of a school year in a school (except for the 2 hours back in 2013 until I was served papers) for the first time since 2013. Did my best to lay low, stayed quiet, helped out. Asked if I can go to lunch, stayed late on Tuesday, asked if I could have coffee when breakfast was served yesterday. Did what I had to do. Until this afternoon.

"Mr Zucker, please report to the main office. Mr Zucker, please report to the main office."

Oh, oh I thought. Did I do something?

As I was heading down to the office I racked my brain on what I possibly could have done.

Had I left early for lunch today? Just before I got outside I looked at my watch and it said 11:29:35 AM. Maybe I should have waited another 15 seconds.

I had clocked in a few minutes early and still had time to run across the street and pick up my pre-ordered breakfast. I was back in the cafeteria by 8 AM.

Maybe I just didn't  sign the acknowledgement that I had gotten the chancellor's regulations in yet even though we were told that we had until Friday.

Maybe I had left the toilet seat up?

Whatever it was it had to be bad.

I got to the office and the new AP was there. I asked her what I did. She said with a smile, "Nothing, just go in (principal's office) and we'll talk." OK, I thought.

So I walked in and the principal was standing at her door. I again asked if I had done anything and she said, with a smile, "Of course not," and in I walked.

However, the other AP was sitting at the conference table. Hmmm, what is going on I thought to myself. Something must.

I scoured the conference table for anything with my name on it. Looking for an A-420 form. An anecdotal. Something. In my mind I am thisclose to asking if I need the CL here with me. My heart is racing. I am conjuring all these scenarios in my mind. What is making this worse is they are taking THEIR TIME TO TELL ME WHY I WAS THERE!!!

Finally (WHEW!), the new AP sits down as well as the principal and they tell me what they needed me for.

The new 7th grade ELA teacher is having license issues and will be unable to start tomorrow. Until he gets things rectified I will cover his schedule.

That's it? Guess what I unclenched when I was told?

I am cool with that. The new AP took some time and shared with me what to do for the first two days and when I told her that I want to reach out to her again tomorrow for more assistance she was quite welcoming and nice about it.

Having never taught 7th grade ELA in the past I took time this evening to watch Dead Poet's Society which was coincidentally on tonight for some inspiration. Perhaps I will fair better than Mr Keating.

I know I was being irrational even at the time I was being irrational I rationalized that I was being irrational. But this is how it is for me now and will be for...I have no idea.

This is a classic case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And I consider this mild. I know of a very dear teacher friend of mine that vomits and can't get out of bed. But we all deal with PTSD in our own ways.

I hate this feeling. I hate when someone, or rather and administrator, just wants to say hi to me, all my bodily functions feel as if they will go awry. Gratefully, I have yet to lose control of said functions.

I am sure there are many more NYC teachers other than myself and my friend who have been through the ringer in the same situation and just as many who have PTSD worse much much worse.

What makes all those NYC teachers who are suffering with PTSD dven a sadder story is that for most, the actions, or inactions, of the NYCDOE are the cause of their suffering. But as usual, there is no accountability.

This is unacceptable. Teachers should not have to go through their careers with the burden of PTSD. Don't teachers have to deal with enough?

But people on high look down at those with PTSD. It can't be seen, it can't be touched. So you mustn't then have it. That is unless you are a veteran or a cop or a first responder.

But if you're a teacher there are no resources offered to you and you are told you need to get over it and put on that brave face at 8:15 AM every day.


Yeah, it is tough. But NYC teachers are tough. We can and will survive this.

On this past Friday, the last day of my 5th week in the school I am assigned to, I got called to the principal's office first thing in the morning.

As usual I arrived to the school about 15 minutes early and received my assignment for the day. I was to cover an absent teacher in a 1st grade ICT class. I said thank you to the secretary and headed downstairs to do my part. I put away my stuff and the students soon started arriving.

This was a breath of fresh air. Up until last Monday I had been covering a 3rd grade class whose teacher had suddenly left on maternity. Though I liked the kids, and the other 3rd grade teachers were quite supportive of me, I was blessed with the roughest 3rd grade class. Not that they were disrespectful to me or getting in fights or running out of the room, it was just they never stopped talking. This, I was told, was why the teacher suddenly left on maternity. She was ordered to bed rest by her doctor.

So has the little 1st graders were entering the room, and giving me that "Who is this guy?" look one of the AP's popped her head in the door and told me the principal wanted to see me in his office to give me an different assignment. OK, no problem I said to myself. I told the other teacher I had to leave and went upstairs to the main office.

As I was walking to the office I passed by the auditorium and saw the principal. I went up to him and said that I heard he needed to see me. He said yes, it was about a new assignment and to meet him upstairs. I told him yes, and went to the main office.

When I got there one of the secretary's told me to have a seat and to wait for him. I sat and wondered if it is just a different assignment why not just tell me then and there and let me be on my way.

Didn't happen.

The more I waited for the principal, the more I started to go over in my head what was "really" happening. My mind was in a swirl of possibilities that seemed all too real at the time.

I started to wonder of I had done something incorrect. The 3rd graders had seen me on the stairs the other day and a few of them gave me fist bumps. Maybe I returned the fist bumps too hard.

Maybe I had not given enough homework and a parent complained.

Maybe I had given too much homework and a parent complained.

Perhaps I had given a Double-Stuffed Oreo to the wrong student who was allergic to Oreos

Or the fact that the Double-Stuffed Oreo was a holiday Oreo with the red creme and I committed a micro-aggression by giving an atheist, or non-Christian a Oreo that obviously was conforming to a Christian celebration and went home crying.


Do I need the CL for the meeting? Is this a trick to tell me that my assignment is being changed just to lull me into some kind of trap? Am I being sent back to the Rubber Room?

All this stuff went through my head, and more.

Worse, I felt my heart racing like it had never done before.

Then, the principal showed. He gave me my new assignment. A 2nd grade ICT class. Whew! Why couldn't he just tell me this when I saw in in the auditorium??

I hate, hate, hate this feeling now that I get every time anyone from above wants to talk to me. I understand the the saying "keep your guard up," but this is ridiculous. I know this is PTSD and I don't want to harp on me. I know there are teachers and others much more worse off than I.

This is no way to go through my, or anyone's, remaining years with the DOE.

It's natural to wonder "what did I do" when you are told to see an admin, I get it. But the swirl I got, I had never gotten something like that before. In the past, I had been able to self-correct, to find that ability to stop and think rationally. I was unable to on Friday.

I had been through both parents dying as well as three dear friends dying within 2 years of each other and never felt this bad before. My wife was sexually abused and has PTSD from that. I feel guilty that something so benign as compared to what she went through has put me in this state. This feeling on Friday went beyond the typical Jewish neurosis.

The DOE must be held accountable for this. Not just for me, but for the others who are in the same position. Just as importantly, the UFT should step up to the plate and be proactive with teachers that are hurting. Yeah, I've been down that road before, there needs to be some union pro-activity.