But she didn't know I had an ace up my sleeve. After much pleading, the stubborn principal had finally come to his senses. Jeez, it takes too much time talking him into stuff. He always wants me to explain everything.
Jeez, what's up with that? What am I, some kid taking a test? I'm an assistant principal already. No way should I have to explain myself.
Anyhoo, he agreed to fold her mediation program, because we have a SPARK counselor, who the hell cares about conflicts between kids anyway, and the upshot was she would lose her stupid comp-time job. She would now teach five classes instead of just three. We never wanted to give her that job anyway. She just got it because of "seniority." Well, when I'm principal, no one will have seniority. Once anyone started to even look senior, they would be history!
Anyway, this was great! I could give her two freshman classes, put them anywhere in the damn building, and she hadn't taught those classes in years. Even if the principal actually observed her like he promised, she was sunk before she even began. New classes in the middle of the semester? The kids would be nuts from day one, and I'd hand-pick them just to be sure. Soon I'd be rid of that wretched harridan. So I dashed off an email, because the idiot principal insists we inform people when we change their schedules. Jeez. What a pain in the ass.
Dear Ms. Feinstein:
Due to circumstances beyond our control, your position as mediator has been discontinued. Therefore you will be assigned two new classes in our new classroom, B-49.
Best and fondest regards,
Mr. Wonder
Heh. It was perfect! That room was in the basement right next to the boiler. There was no ventilation except for an indoor air-conditioner that blew out the power every time it got turned on. It was foolproof! And her with her heart condition and the asthma she was always bitching about, maybe she would just give us all a break and retire already. The class she had before that was in the computer room on the third floor. How the hell was she gonna drag her old ass down three flights of stairs and across the building to the basement in four minutes, especially with all those stupid bags she carried? You don't see me carrying stuff around.
But son of a bitch, that Chapter Leader ruined everything. He had a bunch of scumbags from the union inspect the air quality in all the converted closets, and had a written report saying that the room reeked of diesel and was unfit as a classroom. So we had to move the class to a real classroom. Damn. With windows and everything. Every time I try to get her out, they keep dragging her back in!
And now she's filed a grievance just because I have her in four different classrooms. The spineless principal says I have to find her real classrooms and that she shouldn't be running up and down the stairs all the time. Americans with Disabilities Act or some such nonsense. Where do they come up with this stuff? Man, I hope Trump wins. He won't pander to these geriatric bullies. Jeez, if the old biddy can't walk a few staircases, she ought to be home growing flowers, or whatever the hell it is that old people do.
Now she's complaining that I shouldn't have ended her job via email. Oh, she wants the personal touch, does she? Well, I'll walk in and observe last period the Friday before vacation. And it doesn't really matter what she does because I'm just gonna copy the observation my best bud did when he trashed one of his teachers. Let her whine about how she didn't do this or that. It doesn't matter. Once I say she did it, she did it. I guess I'll have to change a few words to make it look like it was her subject. Man do I hate to write.
Ya know what I'm in the mood for? Maybe an egg roll. Or some of that moo goo gai pan. I'm gonna have to head out to that takeout joint. They cook pretty well for old people.
"Listen, if anyone is looking for me, tell them I'm out observing."
But boy do I love this system. It's tailor made for guys like me. And when I'm principal, every teacher on staff is gonna know just how I use it. No more wasting time with American with Disabilities Acts, or Chapter Leaders, or old geezers.
It's gonna be sweet!
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