I have the years and the age to retire. I just owe some money for my first few years that I hadn't paid into TRS and wanted to get some clarification.

Back in the good old days I was able to dial the Bronx UFT and either a) get through to someone at the switchboard, or b) call the pension people directly. Not anymore. The UFT has a new way to avoid your calls. It's non award winning concierge service. 

On October 26 I decided to make place the phone call to the Bronx UFT. I got the concierge service and promptly placed on hold.

I placed the phone call while on the Deegan at Fordham Rd. No one picked up until I was up on Elmsford where you get onto I-287 from the Thruway. I was then told that I would hear back from someone within 48 hours. It took a week. I got a date for a consultation. November 17. In person. In the Bronx. 

I'm excited and scared at the same time.

As much as I can’t stand the DOE and what it’s done to me, I’m looking at retirement with trepidation. It’s like I’m losing my identity. For 25 years this is all I have known and been. It's not that I got my identity from being a teacher, but this all I have known for 25 years. My year doesn't go from January to December, it goes from September to June.

I feel I need to decompress for at least a year after I retire from the DOE. It's the same feeling I had during my 3020a hearings. After the hearing I needed down time and stopped at IHop each night. I will need more than IHop.

My firsts choice to move to some cabin in the Adirondacks or the Catskills where my nearest neighbor is 5 miles away. I would live in this cabin for a year completely off the grid. I will forage and hunt for my food each day and chop wood for fire and heat. I will grow my hair long and have a manly beard. But this is just a fantasy.

My other dream is to live in Corning for a year or two (I lived there for about 6 months in 1986. In fact I nearly caused an international incident there. I must share one day). Kinda like reliving my youth, but this time as a so called "responsible" and "mature" adult. I figure I can sock my pension away and sell cars to
pay my bills. I've always wanted to sell cars. Or sell anything. Maybe I could be a greeter in Walmart. 

If Corning doesn't pan out there is always Binghamton or Hudson to live in. I really like both towns. But selling cars. 

I can't do the Florida thing. One more retired Jew from New York moving to Florida has become a stereotype. I used to ask my dad about why he hadn't retired to Florida. His answer was, "Florida is death's waiting room." Yeah a waiting room with the 4:30 early bird special.

I doubt I will retire anytime soon. My son is a junior in college, and he has another year to go. Also, I am not retiring without having another gig lined up. Part of me wants to write the book the late, great, Stu Schmelz and I discussed writing: "We Can't Make This Shit Up!" Just like Sparky Lyle and Graig Nettles had in their last years with the Yankees I can as well in my last year with the DOE. 

Something hit me as I was writing this. I'm sure there will be people I still communicate with and see. I don't think I will wither away in the night. But then there are people I was close to but will never ever see again due to distance or whatever reason. Sad.

Let's see what happens and what I hear on the 17th. Maybe I will hit mega millions.

This blog post is dedicated to my friend, James Eterno. James is a great guy and true blue
Mets fan.

In my blog post of May 20, I kind of lamented how the town hall question and answer period has become somewhat predictable. There about 14,000 callers and probably a few thousand people waiting in the que with questions. Maybe, just maybe, questions should be emailed ahead of time. Perhaps questions can be selected to answer by Mike Mulgrew or he can pick the questions randomly out of a drum.

I know what you are saying, "But wouldn't Mulgrew just pick the softball questions?" That is a possibility, unless he follows what Ron Swoboda did in 1975.

I was 11 years old in 1975. I was on Tracey's Shoe Shoppe in the Ardsley Little League. Our annual father-son dinner was being held at the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle and Ron Swoboda was to be our guest speaker.

This was the first time that I was to seat alone with the team. I talked my dad in sitting at my brothers table. My reasoning was that it was my brother's first year in little league (He was 8) and that my dad was co-manager. I would not have to worry about my dad all night.

The dinners always had a question and answer period of the player (Unfortunately, it was always a Met as the guest. I had to sit through Ray Sadecki, Jim McAndrew, and Bob Apodaca to this point). It was always mayhem hundreds of boys raising their hands at once. Except 1975 was the year of the new Q&A format. We would now write our questions on a piece of paper which would then be collected and given to the guest.

Now mind you, at this time in my life I only knew of Ron Swoboda of having played for the Yankees, having come over in a trade during the 1971 season for Ron Woods. And frankly, in the 2 1/2 seasons Swoboda played for the Yankees he kind of sucked. The Braves even cut him during spring training in 1974. Again, I did not know of his 1969 World Series heroics. I am sure some of the more mature readers he do.

I decided on a question. Of course me being me I wrote: "Were you a scrub?"  The boys, and even the fathers, at my table said there is no way that Swoboda would read the question.

Guess what? He did!

Swoboda is up at the dais and going through the questions and just blurts out, "Were you a scrub?" He pauses, and decides to give a life lesson. He tells us how the 25th man on the team is just as important as the 1st man on the team and yada, yada, yada. Looking back on that answer it makes sense. Hey, he got to play Major League baseball and be a hero in a World Series.

About 10-12 years ago he was at a card show at the Westchester County Center. I took my son with me and he got an autograph. I also took the time to apologize to Ron Swoboda and, he graciously accepted (He had ZERO memory of that night).

But you know, looking back I was impressed that he didn't take a softball question. He faced that obnoxious question by an ADHD 11 year old and he met it head on. Sometimes answering the hard questions, the questions that people might not like the answer for is the way to win converts and have people come to your side.

Next UFT Town Hall Q&A let's keep on wishing for less ""What gave you the idea for Flat Stanley?" questions and more questions, to use a baseball parlance, that are knuckleballs.

We are in this together. UFT should always be aware that actions are better than just words.

I didn't sleep very well last night. Got up a lot, thought I had not slept when in fact I had, and made a few trips to the bathroom. I hope that was due to the copious amounts of water I had consumed before bed and not to any underlying prostate issues.

I had awoken for the final time about 5:45 AM (In fact my usual time. My son has to catch his bus at 7 AM) and instead of dilly dallying around in bed I got up, woke my son in a most obnoxious way (banging on his door with my wedding ring) and popped in the shower.

I then shaved, using Edge shaving gel and a Gillete Fusion razor. I had a bout a week's worth of beard to get rid of and was sad that for the first time in 30 months I no longer can go a week or two without shaving.

I had my clothes all laid out for me, but there was a hitch. I couldn't find a black sock to the pair I had planned to wear. I looked all over and it did not help that I had yet to put in my contacts and the room was still dark but for a little light on the nightstand (I HATE light in the morning!). Eventually I found the AWOL sock and had completed getting myself clothed.

I had printed out some lesson plans last night and bought some supplies at Staples (Sorry! There is no other place to go around here!). I needed something to carry all this stuff. I did not have a briefcase nor a backpack. What was I to do?

My son came through. He offered me his Yankees Draw String Bag that he got at Draw String Bag Night at the Stadium a few years ago. I would enter the school in style.

I finished all I had to do and said goodbye to my wife and son as well as Sparkles. I was off.

I didn't have to be at school until 8:15 which gave me plenty of time. I whizzed through White Plains and got onto the Bronx River Parkway. My destination was Mount Vernon and Gramatan Bagels.

There was a reason for Gramatan Bagels. I wanted a whole wheat bagel with Nova spread. They really pile it on the bagel there and it was close enough that I could take my time. relax, eat, drink my coffee and read the paper.

At about 7:45 I decided it was time to get going. The school is right over the line from Mount Vernon and I figured I would be there by eight. I went down Gramatan Ave, turned right onto Linclon, then to 1st Ave and down until I got to 241st St and then down a bit. Was there before 8. The best part, are you ready for this??? There was plenty, an overabundance of street parking! I had no problem finding a spot.

I got out of car and took a deep breath. I adjusted the pleats on my skirt (Gotcha! Only joking). I took a deep breath and walked towards the school then up the steps where I was greeted by the school safety agent who was very nice. I signed in and went up to the office.

I checked in with the payroll secretary and she gave me my time card and I punched in. She then asked me to wait outside for the AP.

I was sitting there praying that the AP would forget about me and not see me until noon. But it didn't happen. It was just a ten minute wait.

The payroll secretary escorted me to her office and she was very gracious and kind. She said have a seat while she figured out my schedule. Oh, oh! What was I to get?

Three classes for the day, two periods each class, going in and supporting the classroom teacher.

I had a 1st grade class, then prep, then 2nd grade, then lunch, and finally, 1st grade again. The teachers were quite friendly towards me and did not take it as I was intruding on their space. In each class I assisted with scoring some tests and working one on one with a few students. I soon realized how much I had missed this.

The day ended and I went upstairs to punch out. On the way to the office I met the principal and thanked her as she welcomed me to the school.

It was not that bad a day.

Oh, before I forget, there is another ATR at the school. We got to talking during our prep in the teacher's lounge and I asked him if he knows or has heard of Portelos.

He looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Who is that?"

I do not like Alex Rodriguez. Never have, never will. I think Alex has cost the Yankees over the years and feel in no way he carried them in 2009. I would take Scott Brosius or Charlie Hayes any day of A-Rod.

Alex is a sneak, a cheat, a liar, and worse, a rat. He dug his own grave. True, he still has not had his day in court, but I support his right to have that day and will respect the outcome.

What I found fascinating is that when the Yanks played the Red Sox a few weeks ago and Alex got plunked by Ryan Dempster (I don't know why the world came down on Dempster. Back in the day if you just breathed funny Bob Gibson or Don Drysdale would nail you. It was old time baseball!)

But after Alex go hit, what happened? His entire team, and his manager supported him. It did not matter what a jerk he was, that he was a rat, a liar, and a cheat. No, the Yankees as a team said to themselves (With apologies to Animal House), "Hey Alex is our teammate, Dempster can't do that to our teammate!"

What do the staff at PS 154 do and react when two teachers are humiliated by bogus 3020a charges and forced to sit in a room by themselves by DR Alison Coviello, Principal and PhD.? Those teachers become persona non grata. They are ignored. They are not thought of. They are non persons.

Eight teachers, most over 40, and of color were given their first U ratings this year. Nothing. No support. No outrage. Nada. Bupkus.

With comments like, "Well, I am not a target so I don't care about others," to "Some teachers, and they know who they are, better start teaching." That one is my favorite. How the hell does a 5th grade teacher know what a 1st grade teacher is doing in their classroom?

There is no empathy, no selflessness, no nothing at PS 154. There are three groups at 154.

Group 1 are The Outliers, in which those fight back or keep to themselves or are shunned.

Group 2 are the fearful, those that no what is being done is wrong. Such as forcing teachers to come in on their Summer vacation to learn some wasteful discipline method, Responsive Classroom. Or they are intimidated into being ratting out colleagues, or given just enough responsibility by the triple headed hydra running 154 to allow them to think they are important.

Then there is Group 3, the ass kissers, the boot lickers, the ones that live inside the rectum and the colon. Those that have no shame, no values, and a lack of independent thought.

Yeah, I know every school has this issue, but it is sad that this happened to 154. This school used to be such a tight knit, close, and supportive school. Then came Cynthia Ballard as principal and she destroyed that closeness. Some say that she was bi-polar. But anyway, Ballard hired what we have in place now. The apple does not seem to fall far from the tree.

The sad part is that those is Group 2 and Group 3 will be sucked into the vortex of evil just as soon as they are not useful to the hydra and will be chewed up and spit out.

Some from Group 2 can be saved, especially those who are in fear. We all have fear, but we can't let fear control who we are or what we do. You need your moral compass to fight against the bully, to stand up and show the bully you are strong. Remember a bully preys on fear, smells fear, and will always manipulate your fear.

Remember, a bully is only as strong as the power you give them.