The Academy (4 page)

“Maybe,” Linda said doubtfully.

“You’re right,” Diane responded. “It’s a power grab. All hail the queen.”

The charter itself was an intimidating, densely detailed document written in nearly incomprehensible legalese that had to have been cribbed from somewhere else or generated by a lawyer. There was no way that the principal or her secretary had come up with it. The charter not only spelled out the chain of command and hierarchical levels of authority that would be installed in the reorganized school, but enumerated a dizzying array of new rules and regulations that would apply to both students and staff. To Linda, it seemed night-marishly Orwellian. If the goal was, as stated in the cover letter, to get out from under the stifling dictates of the district and put the emphasis back on teaching, this sure was a funny way to go about it. The district’s bureaucracy was nowhere near as complex or byzantine as what was being proposed for the charter school.

One subparagraph in particular caught her eye: “Agreements made between employees’ associations and the district will neither apply to nor affect charter school employees. Any union or employees’ association seeking to represent charter school employees in their dealings with the charter committee must first gain the approval of the charter committee, which has the right to terminate any agreement, arrangement or understanding at its discretion.”

Linda read the words again. Was that even legal? She called the union headquarters and asked to speak to Lyle Johns, president of the teachers’ association, who told her that no one knew whether it was legal, and that was why the union was fighting so hard to prevent ratification of the charter. “You can see why the board okayed this,” he said. “They’ve always had an antiunion agenda. Our job now is to get word out to the Tyler teachers and make sure they know the consequences of voting for the charter.”

“But the meeting’s
Monday
,” she said. “That’s when we’re going to vote. No offense, but if you’re trying to get the word out, you’re doing a pretty poor job. I called
you
. I haven’t heard word one from the association. No e-mails, no phone calls . . .”

Johns seemed confused. “We’ve sent out e-mails to all members in the district. We even have people canvassing neighborhoods to inform parents so
they’ll
put pressure to bear. This is the biggest threat we’ve ever had to face. Not only could it significantly weaken our association and affect our negotiations with the district, but it could leave all of the employees at your school unprotected and without recourse. We’re pulling out all the stops for this campaign.”

“Something’s wrong, then,” Linda said. “The message isn’t getting through.”

“I’ll find out what’s happening at this end, but, like you say, the vote’s Monday. We’re down to the wire here. Could I e-mail you some information and have you forward it to the teachers at your school, just in case?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve got to get the word out.”

“They can really do this? Nullify our collective bargaining agreement and eliminate protections?”

“We’d fight it in court, with backing from the state association, but similar restrictions have been upheld before. Charter’s a whole new world. There’s not much precedent. My guess is, we’d lose.”

Linda was shocked. But when she started calling other teachers to tell them about it, she was even more shocked to learn that most of them didn’t care. Diane, fellow English instructors Ray Cheng and Steve Warren, woodshop teacher Alonso Ruiz, French teacher Mary Mercer, social studies teacher Suzanne Johnson and Linda’s other loyal allies saw the folly in getting rid of the only firewall they had against harassment and unfair disciplinary actions, but there were a lot of newer teachers without tenure who were actively antiunion, and there were other teachers in the middle who didn’t care one way or the other. Still, she dutifully forwarded the e-mailed information, hoping that at least some of it might sink in.

She arrived early for the big meeting on Monday. Jody and her supporters had gone all out, because not only was the multipurpose room festively decorated, its walls hung with posters from various companies who had apparently promised to donate goods and services to the school should it become independent, but there was a long table piled high with doughnuts, drinks and various types of fruit. As each person walked through the door, he or she was presented with a packet that included articles and editorials about charter school accomplishments as well as copies of studies purporting to show that charter schools fared better academically than more traditional educational institutions. There was no way anyone would be able to read even a fraction of the provided material in the time allotted; the teachers were just supposed to be impressed and cowed into submission by the sheer bulk of it.

“Nice to see that we’ll be able to discuss issues and vote in a balanced, fair and unbiased environment,” Diane noted drily when she arrived ten minutes later.

Linda, who had been wandering around, mingling and eavesdropping on conversations, told her friend that from what she’d observed, the outcome was too close to call. “Although a lot of teachers seem to be skeptical, so that’s a good sign.”

People were starting to sit down as ten o’clock approached, and the two of them found seats near the front of the room. Diane squirmed uncomfortably in the plastic chair. “At least they could have found some adult chairs,” she complained.

“There’ll be plenty of money for that if we become a charter school,” Linda said mock-helpfully.

“I wish you would keep your snide comments to yourself,” Bobbi said from behind them. They both turned to look at the secretary, who was scowling as she made her way down the row toward the center of the room. “Your attitude is not appreciated.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Diane said sweetly. “I was under the mistaken impression that we lived in a free country. Of course, I only teach English and not history, so I probably don’t know about such things.”

Bobbi gave a disgusted snort and moved away.

“You know what?” Diane said loudly to Linda. “I don’t feel very welcome here. I think I’m going home.”

Bobbi hurried back. Her face was flushed, and there was anger in her eyes. “This is a mandatory meeting.”

Diane stood, dropping her packet on the seat of her chair as she adjusted her purse. “Then I guess you’ll have to type up a memo chastising me and put it in my box.”

“
Everyone
has to vote today!”

Diane said nothing but simply stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” Bobbi said, her tone suddenly conciliatory.“It’s just that I’ve been putting in a lot of hours, doing a lot of work—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Diane said coolly. She turned her back on the secretary, picked up her packet and sat down in her chair.

Linda smiled as Bobbi walked away. “You’re cruel,” she said to her friend.

Diane grinned. “Feels good to stay in practice.”

The meeting began once everyone had arrived. Most of the teachers around her were eating doughnuts and fruit—
Bribes,
Linda thought—as Jody strode to the front of the room and picked up the microphone from its stand on the podium. The principal started by welcoming everyone back and giving those who hadn’t been there a thumbnail sketch of the school board meeting. She was pleasant and upbeat, friendly and approachable, the Jody Hawkes of the previous year rather than the hard, determined woman they’d encountered last week at the district offices.

Linda glanced around her as the principal spoke.
What is going on here?
she wondered. They were teachers and support staff. How in the world had they gotten stuck in the middle of this campaign? How had the fate of the school ended up in their hands?

Jody was beaming broadly. “I am going to enumerate some of the changes that will occur if we become a charter school. If you agree with them, let me know.”

“Here it comes,” Diane whispered. The crowd, done for the most part with snacking, was now listening intently.

“When we adopt our charter, we will become the masters of our own destiny, no longer dependent on the whims of the school board for educational necessities.”

“Yes!”
a handful of people yelled. Linda looked around. Bobbi, Janet, Art, Joseph . . .

The charter committee.

“We will have a democratically run workplace, with every faculty and staff member involved in the decisions affecting their jobs.”

“Yes!”

They’d planned this, she realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They’d rehearsed what they were going to do.

It was a good plan, too. It worked. As with any audience, participation begot participation, and they got others to join in with their vocal show of support. After each of the principal’s exhortations, more teachers jumped on the bandwagon, and the crowd’s response grew louder and more fervent with every round.

“We will find ways to cut costs and use the savings to increase the pay of our employees!”

“Yes!”

“We will purchase
new
textbooks and
new
computers for every classroom!”

“YES!”

“We will make sure that parents become more involved!”

“YES!”

“Parents will be required to donate either time or money to their students’ classrooms!”

“YES!”

“Ten hours or a hundred dollars!”

“YES!”

“Each quarter!”

The fervent chanting reminded Linda of an episode of Amy Sedaris’ subversive TV show
Strangers with Candy,
where Sedaris’ character, Jerri Blank, was brainwashed by a cult whose identically attired members sang the song “Welcome Table” at the drop of a hat. That’s what this felt like to her, a cult meeting, and she imagined herself suddenly jumping up, stompingher feet, clapping her hands and singing at the top of her lungs: “I’m going to sit at the welcome table! I’m going to sit at the welcome table! I’m going to sit at the welcome table one of these days!”

Linda giggled.

Unfortunately, the chanting stopped just at that moment.

From behind the podium, the principal frowned at her. To her right, both Janet Fratelli and Ken Myers leaned around Diane to give her disapproving looks. That made her giggle all the more, and suddenly she couldn’t stop. Like a little kid in church thinking about boogers and poop, she found herself convulsed with laughter that was far out of proportion to the situation, the setting and circumstances amplifying the humor far beyond what it deserved to be.

Diane hadn’t caught her giggles, but she was smiling in support, as were several other teachers. The principal decided to ignore them all. Jody spoke more loudly into the microphone, announcing that everyone had had time to go over the charter and related materials and should, by this time, have formed an opinion about the way in which John Tyler High School ought to proceed. “Are there any questions before we go on?” she asked.

A slew of hands went up.

“I don’t have time to answer all of your questions,” Jody said. “But I’ll try to—”

“Why
don’t
you have time?” Diane asked. “It seems to me that if we’re to make an informed decision, we should have all the facts at our disposal. Unless you’re too busy and have something more important to do than convince us that your charter proposal is worthwhile.”

Jody’s face tightened.

There was a murmur of agreement from the audience.

The principal smiled stiffly, trying to put her best face forward. “Of course,” she said. “I will be happy to answer any and all questions you may have.”

Unfortunately, the questions were almost uniformly bad: softballs that made Jody look good and that she easily hit out of the park. There were a few legitimate concerns brought up but not many, and for those inquiries the answers were consistently vague. Diane asked whether tenure would be affected by a changeover, and Linda asked whether teachers could be fired without recourse. The principal informed them (smugly, Linda thought) that those issues would be determined at a later date. The way she phrased her response allowed people to think that the decision might be voted on and decided by majority opinion, but Linda had a sneaking suspicion that that was probably not going to be the case.

When there were no more hands raised, Jody smiled. “Very well, then. We will now vote on whether to accept or reject the charter. Raise your hand if you are in favor of becoming independent from the district and ratifying the charter as presented.”