Coming Up For Air

Sorry all but I needed a mental health weekend. Or a lack of mental health weekend. Not sure which. I've had a lot to think about and a lot of anger to channel so I went out to Central Mass to hang out with a good friend and one of my former students from last year. I then went to a bar in Worcester and got smashingly drunk and ran into someone from high school. Go figure.

Meanwhile back at the ranch... I called a lawyer. I called an advocacy group. I called the Office of Civil Rights. I wrote a letter to the Massachusetts Department of Education Charter School Board. I wrote letters to the Massachusetts Public Charter School Association. I called a number of parents and they too are calling these same agencies and complaining.

Anyone for a letter writing campaign?

Oh and in other news... I have poison something or other. All over my arm. Go me.

Question of the day however: I interviewed two very notable figures in disability advocacy. Does anyone want me to share some of the interviews here on the site?

And Now it Turns to Anger

Reading everyone's comments has made me realize just how angry I really am about this entire situation. Today one of the English teachers did me a solid and told each and every one of her classes that Miss Paste would not be back because the administration was not able to remove their heads from their asses long enough to realize that firing her was a bad move. I believe now the hope is that the kids will take it to the administration. Some of the kids have already sworn to me that they plan to sit in the hallways and do nothing. God bless social consciousness in rebellious teenagers.

I do plan on writing a letter to the Department of Education. I do plan on contacting the labor department. I do plan on making their life miserable. The same English teacher also plans to encourage her students to write a petition to revisit the hiring and firing process.

Mom, you're right. These kids crave stability. One of my special ed girls sat in her seat and said over and over, "I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry." Another of my students literally, physically stumbled when he was told I was fired and said it wasn't possible. Yet another said that if any of the other teachers were punished he was getting the f*&k out no matter what he had to do. Now what?

Explanation Time I Suppose...

Sorry I didn't take the time to truly explain. On top of getting fired Friday, my uncle passed away so I've been dealing not only with cleaning out my classroom but with family dynamics as well.

The long and the short of it is, Friday at 6:00 pm, while there were still scads of parents in the building for conferences mind you, the director called me into his office where there sat a young Hispanic woman in Apple Bottom jeans, a tight t-shirt, and large gold earrings whom I had never seen before. He introduced the woman as the secretary of the school's board and all I could think was, "Excuse me, you said secretary of a downtown gang right? Is that what I heard?" There was no way this woman was on the school's board. She looked like the type who only attended school to find other, more innocent girls to beat down for their lunch money. The director then called in his sidekick, the academic director and started his spiel.

"First of all I'm sorry about your uncle. Anyway we have decide to terminate you. We decide a month ago, but we say not until end of term to make easier for us. You give keys to classroom and laptop. You can clean out classroom tomorrow, 10:00 am."

--end scene--

No explanation, nothing. I guess I was just the easiest of the herd to thin. I was also the most dangerous for them to keep on board because I knew they weren't there for the right reasons. While the director and his Turkish following sat combing their dirty mustaches in the back room discussing how they could make money off this silly school endeavor, the rest of us were on the front lines trying to serve the children. I think they finally realized we were on to them....

I Teach, Therefore I Am...FIRED!!!

Yup. You heard me. F-I-R-E-D.