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What
came first, the stick or the puck?;
the chocking and frequent confessions of candidates;
a school district begins the search for a new super
ego
What
came first, the stick or the puck? El Bronce the Sun
King was trying to pay for dinner at the tony northside
eatery but his plastic hit the rechazo basket. I guess
he wasn't up high enough on the food chain to be able
to dump his Enron stock for $80 a pop before it became
chump change. Some folks got mighty pucked in that deal.
Sure do hope nary a local politico took stock bait.
Actually, it would serve them right.
Oh, that fine line between being a little nosy
and harassing your employees. Here's another blow for
the right to privacy. The administrator with the magnetic
personality strike again. This time she's haranguing,
quite nearly harassing, a teacher for his choice in
after-hours clubs. She glommed onto something she heard
from a student and is now passively-aggressively persecuting
el maestro with it as though she has a right to the
details of his life after school. If she does, then
so should he have access to the rather interesting and
complex tableau that is her life after the school bell
rings.
Hey, over at the big school, there's quite a nasty story
about a matter of same-gender sexual harassment completely
ignored by deans and administrators who were apprised
by the alleged victim-instructor of uncomfortable instances
of advances, threats, and stalks. Looking the other
way makes you complicit, an enabling party, an accessory,
in fact. Wouldn't some hungry young abogado like to
pick this one up and run all the way to the institutional
ATM?
Heehoelay! Can you ever remember a political
season as charged as this one? We have moved along here
from slow burn to high heat. Los candidatos sort of
behaved until Christmas and then it was off to the races.
Manitas y manitos, I can only tell you that it is chocking
to listen to all of them as they come through these
offices. The confessions, the things they did, the alliances
they have formed, the things they say about each other.
No, no, no! Some of them suffer from arrested dignity,
an irreversible psychological flaw.
It would be really so very unkind of me to say,
"and speaking of piojos," so I will just say
this: They had money for the kiddie prom for elementary
and middle school children, but they couldn't buy enough
head lice shampoo for the outbreak that has put a serious
cramp on the learning process at this UISD campus.
And speaking of piojos, Torquemada continues
her reign of error and terror at this hinterlands elementary
school. I'd be a little more careful with the personnel
abuses and violations of district policies now that
Big Daddy Godfather Schmooze L. Boos has blown the joint.
And speaking of the search being on for a new educational
superego, here's a word of unsolicited advice. Don't
send him or her (although in this town that's unlikely)
to a conference just after he takes the helm. Right
after Dr. Schmooze got back from his first conference,
he established the support teams we have been stuck
with for all his reign, and we all know that was the
second worst thing to hit the district since he did.
As teachers prepared teary farewell speeches
and plaques for the red-faced wonder, one team sent
the belivered educator a lifetime subscription to Playboy.
We won't forget you!
¡Tu, sientate a'ca! And at that other school district,
what's with that chaparro on the board thinking that
now that he's got everyone seated where he wishes that
he is el mero mero. Mare-o, Mare-o is more like it,
since he's acting like a horses's hiney. Where have
all the bright lights gone on that board? The good is
sorely outnumbered by the bad and the ugly.
If you want to figure out how this fresh outta high
school chica got a job as permanent sub, go from the
school to the steeple where her mom and la principal
sing in the same choir. Howza about the school secre
who spent all day on the school district nickel picking
up tables for the Christmas party that featured Little
Joe y La Familia.
Have we mentioned la merienda at this campus?
Teachers aren't invited to the afternoon coffee and
cookies break in the lounge. The room's reserved for
administrators, substitutes, and para-professionals
who laugh and scream and joke and turn silent when a
teacher walks into the room. Friendly folks, que no?
And here we go to Mr. Pico de Gallo and his annoying
intercom interruptions con los pelitos parados y la
camisa toda sudada! He was overheard in the lounge calling
his faculty "estas maestras necias!" I hate
it when he says over the intercom, "Tishers, back-up
your fluffies."
Y la otra ruca-chuca who changed the school motto porque
le dio la mera gana -- don't wait for a good morning
or a hello from her. She's off peering into Alice and
Wonderland's looking glass and being nosy, nosy, nosy.
We don't bother to ask Ms. Goddess if we can go to lunch
because we know her buddy the secretary will let her
know. She's the same worldly secretary who spoke Spanish
to a teacher from India and organized Christmas carols
on the public address announcements. Does it occur to
anyone that some people don't celebrate Christmas?
A terrorist-ready middle school. This middle
school campus is terrorist-ready, but then again so
are a lot of them given the kinds of cruel and despotic
administrators this district promotes to those positions.
The code words used at this particular school during
a drill that includes a blackout and locked doors --
"Dr. Barber is here."
My stars, could it be true, that the children
of certain attorneys get to take their proficiency tests
in the library at a pace different from the other kids?
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