We paid for it all year, every day, every minute. Teachers were stressed and overcome with the volume and intensity of the work. Students reacted as they do. Some flew below the radar and learned less, made less progress, got less attention. Others sensed the adult disarray and acted out, causing greater distress. And some learned and produced and contributed in spite of it all.
We the adults worked as a team. Tired, glazed-eyed and scared, teachers never said die. Parents swooped in to support in ways they have never before offered. Relationships settled. Learning got underway. And there was a harvest at the end of it all.
In early June, the local paper reported that the superintendent had accepted an $8,000 raise based on his stellar evaluation from the school board.
Outcry erupted from every quarter. Letters to the editor, blog posts, Facebook pages popped up in a hue and cry. Parents buzzed to teachers who hemmed and hawed and tried to stay professional.
We have had the toughest year in memory. Money has disappeared, from school district budgets and from the paychecks of school employees. Furlough days have effected a de facto anti-raise for all. People have worked harder than ever before, for uglier results than ever before, and all of it was because of a long stagnant economy's fallout on the state budget coffers.
Now this. The guy at the helm takes a high profile raise that amounts to about a third of a year's salary for some of our instructional assistants. $8,000 is not much in his world. But this $8,000 may be the most expensive $8,000 he's ever received. And if he had refused it, it would have bought the cheapest PR he could have purchased.
On Fathers' Day we went out to eat. Our favorite authentic Mexican bistro in the high style NW district of the city. I don't know why they only had one waitress on duty on Fathers' Day, but there she was. Alone, zipping between tables, combining tasks to keep everyone happy, responding to the odd request with a smile, and assisted valiantly by the lone busboy who pinch-hit as waiter at a table or two.
I watched them. Both of them were smart and hard-working. They kept it all together. But they were doomed by the poor management that placed them in such a no-win situation. Parties of guests walked in, waited for a second too long, and walked out. Others flagged for their check or an extra margarita or more water from across the room with exasperation in the very gesture. The place was remarkably full, and tables eating, but this poor young woman and man had no hope, no chance of keeping up.
I thought about the money the hip nouveau Latin restaurant would make that day - personnel costs low and receipts up. But the wait staff would go home with fewer tips than usual. After all, service was far from par.
Our check came to $36. Yeah. Great deal. I left her $60 and told her to keep the change. She deserves it.
