* * *
Speaking of fucking useless men, Superintendent Daniels is one of the most incompetent idiots I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.
One of those administrators who made it to the top by knowing how to talk the talk to all the right people, but I’m almost positive he’s never spent more than a year in an actual classroom. As evidenced by all the bullshit suggestions he’s dropping about how I should run my school. Yes, I said it.Myschool.
Because after a mere hour back at work, after an hour of donning Work Lina, after an hour of having the merits of project-based curriculum mansplained to me by someone who has never stepped foot in a classroom, along with what a purchase order is and how I should reorganize my staff to “maximize funding” (read: increase teacher burnout and thus turnover), I’ve decided that I’m going to throw my hat in the ring.
I can’t take it anymore. I’m annoyed. Dom was right. This is annoying. I’ve been doing the job of a principal for the last year, anyway, so I might as well get paid for it.
But this requires a slight manipulation, a gentle touch. I have to play the game. I have to talk the talk.
“Superintendent Daniels, I’d like to throw my hat in the ring and be considered for the PS 2 principal position.”
All the gentle manipulation of a battering ram.
Daniels stops his Science of Reading monologuing to look at me.
I take the element of surprise and use it to my advantage, pressing forward. “I’ve worked my way up in this school for the last fifteen years, Superintendent Daniels. I’ve been a paraprofessional, a classroom teacher, and an assistant principal here. I have functioned as the acting principal for almost a year, ever since Courtney Thomas was removed from her post. I am deeply familiar with every single aspect of this school and what it takes to run it effectively.”
He tilts his head, assessing me. I don’t drop my eye contact. “After the disaster that was Principal Courtney Thomas,” he continues (which by the way, was entirely his fault), “we at the district office decided that the best course of action would be to hire an experienced, prolific principal, one with demonstrated success. I don’t believe our community would be happy with someone who has never been a principal at all.”
“Respectfully, Superintendent Daniels, again, I’ve effectively taken over as principal of this school for almost a year now, and I’ve had no complaints from our community since. Have you had any to the district office?” I press.
“No, I suppose not?—”
“I’d be happy to detail all the progress and ‘demonstrated success’ I’ve achieved here since Courtney Thomas was removed,” I say, pausing, “in the formal interview process. I can also formally answer questions and assuage some of the concerns or reservations you may have. But all in all, I firmly believe that I’m what PS 2 needs right now. Someone who is a long-term veteran of this community, with fifteen years of service towards it.”
He eyes me for a moment, and it’s like I can see the wheels working overtime in his head. “All right then, Lina. Considering that we haven’t yet found a suitable candidate, and school starts in a week, yes, I’ll allow you to move through the formal interview process.”
I expect to feel a flash of nervousness, but my immediate reaction is one of deep satisfaction. It’s obvious this is the right move for me. “Thank you, Superintendent Daniels. I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”
“The interview is typically six hours long, one entire work day. We could do it tomorrow, I suppose?—”
“We can’t forget that as the effective acting principal, there is an endless amount of work I need to complete this week before school starts. I have back-to-back meetings with School Foods, our custodial team, our finance team, the PTO, after-school programs. I need to program all nine hundred students into one functioning schedule. I need to reorganize our staff. Plan the first two days of PD for them?—”
“I know,” he cuts me off impatiently, as I give him a taste of his own medicine.
“I propose that we break up the interview process across three days, maybe at lunch time, when I have no meetings scheduled.” Because I’m Solutions Oriented Work Lina, now, bitch. And yeah, you’re gonna give up your cushy three-hour-long lunches to me this week, asshole.
Daniels nods slowly, mulling it over. “I’ll have to run it by everyone, but that could work. There are many people, different members of the district and the community who will be part of the interview process. I’d have to see if they’re available during those times, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t be.”Yeah, because you all have nothing better to do at lunch, up in your ivory tower district office.
I look at my watch and realize I have a meeting with one of our enrichment programs that starts… now. “Thank you for this opportunity, Superintendent Daniels.” I employ the foolproof strategy for politely getting people out of your office, one that Oliver taught me many moons ago, standing up and slowly walking towards the door. His body is forced to turn in his seat. “I’m really looking forward to this,” I say, opening the door and standing next to it. He stands up and straightens his suit. “Please let me know what day we can begin. I’m available for lunch every day this week.” I hold out my hand in front of me, forcing him to walk towards me, towards the exit, to shake it.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says, shaking my hand and walking out the door.
I don’t have time to process what just happened, because the wonderful woman who comes to PS 2 to run the Garden Program with our kiddos is standing just outside my office, ready for our meeting.
I squeal, unable to help myself. “Gladys!”
She wobbles over to me and wraps me in a giant hug, as much as her tiny, elderly body will allow. I have to bend at the waist. “Hello, beautiful Lina.”
I fucking love this woman. She’s been coming to our school for as long as I’ve been here to run a Gardening Class, teaching our kids about the native plants and bugs and critters you can find outside in our school garden. A garden she single-handedly created and curated and cultivated over the last twenty years.
She also may be one hundred years old. She’s a garden witch, in the best way possible.
“I brought you some fresh eggs from Cluck Norris and Henelope Cruz,” she tells me, referring to her chickens.
I practically carry her into my office, immediately in a better mood.
