Extra Shocked, Extra Sad

I had a different post planned for tonight, but I got some news a little while ago that I'm having trouble coming to terms with. Be forewarned, there's lots of background with this.

One thing many teachers know is that principals come and principals go. A few gems stick around for years, but in general, their tenure at one school lasts a few years. For my first teaching job, I accepted a position at an inner-city school. I was young, and I believed I could make a difference. In general, I don't think I'm hot stuff, but quite honestly, I do believe I made a difference that year. Unfortunately, it was also a year riddled with some serious problems. My heart ached for these children. I spent the year at the doctor's office dealing with stomach issues resulting from my inability to compartmentalize my stress and heartache for these children. One was repeating the grade and had been ridiculed by a former teacher (it was documented & the teacher was not asked to return) for being "stupid." One was seriously ill and hospitalized. One was horribly abused (several teachers witnessed it, but DHS did nothing). One would skip breakfast and beg to come into my room (they waited in the halls reading books before the first bell) so she could sleep. She generally slept the first two hours after arriving at school---because she was too scared to sleep with the constant gunfire outside her window at night. One got sick on a regular basis because her family rummaged in garbage cans for leftover food. I was naive back then and believed that the school system was set up to help these kids. I was disapointed, heartbroken really, that this school did not seem to help. In the spring, one of my fabulous students (I mean that sincerely, not sarcastically) brought a gun to school. He was a very promising student with very caring parents. All of a sudden they were faced with placing their son in alternative school (the only placement for the school system because of the zero tolerance policy) or placing him in a private school which they could not afford. Seeing the pain in their faces proved to be the final straw for me. I knew that I could no longer be an effective teacher in that environemnt (the administration).

My next job was in a much more affluent district. It was actually the district in which I lived (this is important). It was VERY hard to get on in this district, so simply being hired renewed my faith a little in my teaching abilities. I once again felt like I could breathe. I had one issue that year, and the principal backed me entirely. My faith in the system was being restored. Then the principal abruptly announced her resignation. When a new principal was announced, my head began to spin again. She had previously been fired from our district for some very unethical issues. She then was hired in my old district, where she was genuinely hated. She remained there until they could no longer take her, and then she returned to my new district. We (teachers, other administrators, parents, other district employees--basically everyone) were shocked. Outraged. Disgusted. Her reign of stupidity was awful. After the first year, over half the faculty left. That's significant. I refused to leave (though I'll admit it crossed my mind). I knew I could outlast her (remember principals come and principals go), and I wanted stability on my resume. There were several cries of foul during her time at the school: thousands of dollars of PTO money was missing, school funds were missing, other things were stolen, etc. She also had ridiculously unethical suggestions for us: keep school money in your car and don't turn it in but once a month, etc. She'd give our home phone number to parents. When I couldn't be reached at home one day, she simply told the parent my address and how to get to my house. Lovely, huh? She made a big deal of how we appeared to the community (remember I lived in this community). Now I agree that we should present ourselves as professionals, but I do not agree that having boys sit in your lap in the community is a good idea! She'd try to "save" the students who were habitually in trouble. I'm all for helping them, but her ideas just let them fly under the radar now, and that will not help them. She'd make them office workers and hand them tests to run off instead of letting us run them off ourselves. Copies of our tests were everywhere. She'd DO projects for students at risk for failing. Helping them do it? Yes, a student can learn from that. DOING it for them? Absolutely not! She plagiarized multiple times and was caught doing so. She bragged about getting new tires on school time and using school money to do so. Bragged. Openly.

Although the school had a superior rating when she began, it quickly began to fall. Teachers had their hands tied (we were told no grades recorded below 60 ever; she also changed--openly--students grades on a regular basis). While I realize that may not sound like a huge deal, it is a really big disservice to the child and their parents. A parent does not know their child does not grasp a concept if they continually bring home good grades. If a child does not understand one step in building block concepts, they cannot be successful as they climb the ladder. It's just not fair to the child. You are setting them up for failure.

At any rate, her reign of stupidity lasted several years before she moved on (to another job that she GOT FIRED from because of unethical issues---google it, you'll find her name, and now her name comes with a nice large lawsuit because her image is tarnished, tsk tsk).

So many of us were just worn out at this point. Our faith in the educational system had hit a new low. We were all excited to get a new principal; somebody who could renew our faith. We didn't really care who it was, though there were rumors that the high school assistant principal was going to be our new principal. Rumors proved true, and we were thrilled! He brought a breath of fresh air to the school, and for the first time in years, a positive light was shining brightly in all the eyes of the teachers. His impact was immediate.

With our new principal, came a new assistant principal. For what it's worth, I loved one of our assistant principals under the last principal---adored him!--but his hands were tied. He tried so hard to help, but when you are met with defeat over and over again, it brings you down. Anyway, the new assistant principal was wonderful too. He and I hit it off immediately. Our personalities just meshed. Both the principal and assistant principal supported us wholeheartedly. It was such a welcomed change.

Anything we needed, the principal or assistant principal (or bookkeeper--she's awesome) made sure we had. They believed in us. They knew we'd been beaten down, and they worked very hard to build us back up. They cheered us on both professionally and personally. They understood that things happen. They treated us like humans--not only humans, but adult humans--for the first time in years. They asked our opinions, and they listened to them. Our students flourished under their leadership. So did our teachers. The entire school environment changed. We were once again a happy place. They encouraged us along the way, and they thanked us for what we did. Our school regained its previous reputation. Most of us were reunited with former love for teaching. I loved these guys, I truly did, as did many other teachers that year.

After a few years, the assistant principal moved on to become the principal of another school. His teachers there loved him too, and would happily do whatever he asked.

Recently he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He has a school that loves and needs him. More importantly, he has a wife. He has children. And he likely has less than a year to live. Less than a year to spend with his wife. Less than a year to spend with his children. Less than a year to hug and kiss them. Less than a year to play with them. Less than a year to make memories to last their lifetimes.

I know any of us can go at any moment, but knowing you are dying (though he says he's choosing to live in the present) has got to be hard.

He has such a positive attitude, but I just can't seem to shake my sadness for him. For his wife. For his children. And for generations of future students and teachers.