Superintendent Daniels, my boss, the leader of District 13, strides into my office without knocking, a dark-skinned man in his 50s, slight in build, nose too wide and eyes too close together to be considered handsome, head shaved. He is in his standard uniform, a dark suit, tie, and Nike Jordans.I’m a cool superintendent,is the look he tries, and fails, in my opinion, to convey. “Good morning, Oliver,” he says to me, smile wide, hand outstretched. I shake his hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Daniels,” I reply. I gesture at the seat on the other side of my desk. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“If she can make me a coffee, milk, no sugar, that would be fantastic,” he says, gesturing vaguely towards the main office.
“Unfortunately, Ms. Madge is our school secretary and not my personal assistant,” I reply. “She’s probably very busy. I’m happy to pour you a cup, though.” I say, pointing to my machine, pot half filled with brewed coffee.
He sputters slightly, looking at me, trying to figure out if I am judging him over that faux pas. I raise an eyebrow, giving him nothing.I am judging you, you arrogant prick. “Well, that’s all right. Wouldn’t want to be a bother,” he says eventually.
I shrug. “It’s there if you need some later,” I reply. I’m ready to get started and get this man out of my office, so that I can finish some actual, real, tangible work. “So, I’ve prepared a slide deck showing our current finances, budget, enrollment num?—”
“Oliver,” he cuts me off. I pause, seething internally. “Oliver, I’m not here to look at your budget. I know your budget. I know you’ve improved your numbers. That’s not why I’m here,” he says, silkily. “I’m here because of a number of parent complaints to my office. Because their children have been without a permanent teacher forthree whole weeks? And the teacher these childrendidhave last year was shit?”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not sure if you know this, Mr. Daniels, but there is a severe teacher shortage across the country right now. We?—”
“Additionally,” he continues condescendingly, as if I hadn’t spoken, “the scores of complaints were such that I looked into the class’s details myself.” I scoff. More like had his assistant look into it. Daniels wouldn’t be able to find a file if it were placed in the middle of his bare, gleaming chestnut desk. “The test scores of that class last year were low. Significantly so. So much so that they brought down the District numbers. So you can see why this is a problem.”
“No, not really,” I reply. “The district scores as a whole don’t really impact enrollment. It’s not?—”
The superintendent cuts me off again. “I’m telling you it’s a problem,” he says with a sneer. “It’s making us look bad. This is the reason I’m here,” he says. “I need a teacher in that room, Oliver. Three entire weeks is unacceptable. Get a body in there. Immediately. I don’t care if you pick someone up off the street.”
The image of Georgia Baker’s shock of wavy hair and electric blue eyes pops into my head.
“After that, get that classroom’s test scores up.” Mr.Daniels sits back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee, tenting his fingers. “All eyes in the district are on that classroom. After the number of phone calls to my office, everyone is looking at PS 2 now.”
“And like I said, we’re handling it. Also, respectfully, Mr. Daniels, that makes little sense—” I try.
He puts his hand up again. I want to smack it down. “Oliver, you are the darling of this district. I know your success stories. I know how you turn schools around. I am confident you can get this done.” He looks like he remembers something. “Ms. Madge told me you have an interview up there right now. Hire her. I don’t care who she is. Hire her.” He gives me a look. “Do you understand me?”
Fuck. “I don’t think that teacher is a good fit?—”
“Did you not hear me? I said hire her. End of story.” He claps his hands, signaling the end of the discussion. “Now, I’ll take that coffee.”
Fuck.
This can’t be happening.
Of all times Daniels could’ve stormed into my office. Of all people who could have been interviewing here when he did so.
I’d unfortunately already grouped Chaotic Garbage Woman together with the Crazy/Strange slice of interviews. My skin begins to crawl thinking of the amount of work we’re going to have to put in with her to get those scores up. I can’t put that on Lina. That meansI’mgoing to have to be her direct supervisor and her coach this year. That means I need to be on top of her. I’m going to have to ride her fucking ass.
Superintendent Daniels spends the next excruciating fifteen minutes of my time sipping on the coffee I pour him, his self-important voice droning on and on about his recent invitation to the Mayor’s office. He regales me with tales of the “robust” conversation they allegedly shared about the state ofeducation in the city, as if he’s just solved New York City’s education problem with a flick of his wrist.
I grind my teeth, silently seething with every word that spills from his lips, hating this man, hating our current District office, hating the Central office, hating the Chancellor’s office, bloated positions with high ranking, lofty titles but no real meat, real work behind them. Which makes Mr. Daniels the perfect candidate for the job, I think, watching him drink his coffee and chat at his leisure on a Monday morning during the first month of school, arguably the busiest time of the entire school year. Making me hire insane people off the street without a care in the world for my students.
Daniels seems to be talking about nothing, so I review my list of professional goals, in order of priority. Lists are good. Lists give me the modicum of control I need to feel over unknown situations. Such as the future.
Fix this school
Get it to a strong and stable enough place to leave for my predecessor
