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Cole Bradford was tired. Physically and mentally. Just tired. He was finishing up his thirty-eighth year in public education. Years before, he had laughingly told his wife Annie that he had to get to forty before he could retire. Go out on an even number, he had told her. Now he wasn’t so sure those extra two years would matter. He would probably end up at the bus barn the way things were going.
He was in the midst of yet another fight with his superintendent and he was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to keep going considering the almost daily battles they were having. Mary Anne Marston had come to the district five years earlier promising change and progress. He didn’t know about progress, but there had been plenty of changes. Of the four campus principals in the district she inherited, she had already replaced three. Bradford was the last man standing.
He often thought that had he not been in Eastlake for so long already, he would probably have been the first one to go. Fortunately, in his long career with the district, he had forged strong bonds within the community and with the members of the school board. Of the seven, he had coached, taught, or been the principal for either six of them or their children. The seventh had moved to Eastlake only recently and been selected by the superintendent herself to replace a board member who had unexpectedly passed.
As recently as last year, she had tried to convince the board to reassign him to allow her to hire a new principal of her own. The board president who had been friends and fishing buddies with Bradford for over thirty years, had informed her that Bradford would be a principal in the district until he retired. She immediately began having discussions with him about his future plans, discussions in which she frequently opined that maybe he should retire while he was still healthy enough to enjoy his golden years. He had laughed at her attempts to force his hand, but as he sat behind his desk at the close of another long week, he began to think that maybe it was time.
The latest disagreement had to do with personnel. In all of his years as a campus principal, he had always made his own decisions about his staff. He considered himself a good judge of talent and character and had hired almost every teacher on his current roster. The few exceptions were a handful of teachers and two aides who had already been at the school when he was hired. Their longevity spoke to their effectiveness and they were some of his strongest educators. He was generally pleased with his staff and for many years, he had faced the lowest turnover rate of any campus in the district.
Five years earlier, the superintendent had stood before the assembled district staff, including administrators, teachers, aides, bus drivers, and cafeteria and custodial workers. Anyone and everyone were gathered to hear her first address to the masses, and it was a good one. She spoke at length about her mission to transform Eastlake into one of the state’s premier districts. She had a plan and within five years, she promised, the district would be Exemplary, the state’s highest accountability rating. The applause was enthusiastic and genuine. She had pledged to lead them to the Promised Land and they were eager to follow.
An hour or so later, behind the closed doors of the conference room at the central office, she was exulting in her successful beginning and openly disdainful of the gullibility of her new followers. “I can’t believe they bought it.”
Bradford could not believe she had actually said those words. Aloud. But she had. He was shocked and surprised by her attitude, but even more incredulous that she had so quickly dropped her mask before her new principals. Now years later, nothing she did or said surprised him anymore. He often wondered if the district were to ever grasp the brass ring of Exemplary, would any of those original staff even be there to claim the prize. Marston had almost immediately begun to cull the herd and in the privacy of the central office, she pulled no punches when discussing personnel.
He recalled the most recent galling incident he had witnessed. She had arranged a Christmas party at the home of one of her assistants and left no doubt that every administrator had better be there. Bradford spared his wife Annie the agony of having to attend, but Marston was not happy when he told her the obvious white lie that his spouse was ailing and unable to share in the gathering. Even though decisions regarding teacher contracts were still months away, Marston was already pushing her principals to start making cuts. Of all of her major initiatives that were supposed to transform the district, the biggest plan was the simplest - replace every teacher possible with a better one. Another of her many schemes that sounded great on paper.
Bradford had accidentally overheard a conversation over the punch bowl between Marston and her newest high school principal about which teachers could be fired at the end of the year. The principal was gleefully anticipating the chance to ruin people’s lives. About one particular teacher, a long-time resident of Eastlake, he was actually enjoying the fact that she would be caught so off guard. “She’ll never see it coming.” And they laughed.
Bradford was appalled. Someone was losing her job and these two thought it was hilarious. No matter how ineffective they may have considered her job performance, letting someone go should never be a cause for celebration. Bradford had had to fire people before. It was one of the least enjoyable aspects of his job. The worst teachers he had ever let go were still real people with real lives and families. He had hated that part of the job and to see his superintendent and this principal giggling like school children at the prospect, turned his stomach. He made his excuses and left the party, finding it difficult to get into the Christmas spirit in such company.
He thought about the former superintendent and how he had hated to see her leave. Although she had had her critics within the community, Bradford had always liked her. She was tough, but at least she was honest, and you knew what she thought, because she wasn’t shy about saying it.
Marston wasted no time in remaking the district in her own image. Within the first two years, she had forced out the junior high and high school principals. The high school assistant principal had been promoted only to be fired a year later. Eventually both she and the junior high principal were replaced by administrators who had worked with Marston in her previous district. Bradford, at the Intermediate campus, and Mr. Preston, at the elementary hung on as best they could. A year later, Preston retired and Bradford knew his time was coming.
For five years, he had endured an endless round of new initiatives. Marston took great pride in her ability to push the district forward, always on the cutting edge of the newest most popular programs in the field of education. Bradford proudly admitted that he was old school. He believed firmly in the effectiveness of those old tried and true methods that had always worked, and he maintained a healthy skepticism about the new ideas which were often nothing more than attempts to reinvent the wheel in his opinion. Old school folks were fond of saying that most of the newer programs were just newly named versions of the same things they had been doing for most of their careers.
Her first big initiative was a program named for a district north of Dallas that had reached Exemplary status by following a set pattern of steps that were then packaged and sold as the newest method to achieve success. Most of the steps were things that Bradford had been doing for years already. At Dr. Marston’s urging, the Eastlake school board eagerly spent the money to officially adopt this new initiative. Bradford shook his head and kept his opinions to himself. No use telling the Emperor she had no clothes. So far, he was under the distinct impression that she was not the kind of person who took criticism well.
She followed that with a series of major initiatives, to use her words, which would begin her promised transformation. Bradford found her new ideas to be surprisingly unoriginal and highly expensive. Each year, he had seen his campus budget shrink as more and more funds were directed toward these new plans and programs. The school board, however, ate it up. They loved the feeling of being current and progressive and as the school’s ratings inched slowly upward, they patted themselves on the back for hiring such a great superintendent to manage the district.
Bradford often wondered why no one seemed to notice that every new initiative over the last several years was basically replacing some other previously new initiative. One particular computerized tutorial program had been changed every single year until they had cycled through all the available options and eventually returned to the original provider as this year’s new initiative. Again, he was simply old school enough to believe that there was nothing new under the sun. He and Preston had once said years ago that what they should do was write out some of the strategies they had employed over the years, slap on a fancy sounding new label, and sell the mess out of it. They called it their secret retirement plan. Unfortunately, they never found the time to put their words into action. Preston said it was because they were too busy doing the real work to put out the generic wonder cures that only sold to desperate school districts with superintendents looking for a quick fix.
After years of major initiatives that had resulted in only minute changes, Marston had decided to go back to her original strategy of replacing personnel. Bradford had tried to comply with her directives and support her plans, but he still felt that she did not understand the school district or the community. It sounded brilliant in theory to get rid of weak, ineffective teachers and replace them with great teachers. Of course that would work, if it were possible to achieve. In Eastlake, Bradford thought in all honesty, they were most often firing mediocre teachers and replacing them with slightly less mediocre teachers. With larger districts nearby paying much higher salaries, it was often difficult to recruit quality teachers to their smaller community. More than once, Bradford had offered teaching positions to candidates who declined, choosing instead to pursue other more lucrative offers.
He had gotten into a nasty discussion a year earlier with the assistant superintendent known behind her back as the “Bulldog.” Because Marston loved to present herself in public as “Mary Anne” her sweet country girl persona that everyone found so charming, she routinely dispatched her assistant to handle anything negative. The Bulldog relished her every opportunity to carry out the dirty work of the district and had no qualms about delivering bad news. She actually seemed to enjoy it. She had come to complain about a teacher Bradford had requested be hired for his fifth grade opening.
“She’s not gonna work. You’re gonna have to find someone else.”
“There’s not anyone else. We interviewed every teacher who applied and you know there weren’t that many.”
“Well, you’re just gonna have to keep looking, then.”
“What’s so wrong with her? Besides her inventory score, that is.”
“You wanna argue about the inventory again? I told you those scores are non-negotiable. You shouldn’t have even wasted time interviewing her.”
The inventory was another of Marston’s grand initiatives. She had paid an outrageous sum of money to contract with a company who had developed a long, detailed questionnaire that was supposed to predict a teacher’s potential for success. Everyone who applied to the district had to complete the inventory and if they scored below the superintendent’s arbitrary standard, they were not to be hired. Bradford had already lost the chance to hire two really solid candidates because of their inventory scores. Instead he hired the teacher with the highest score the district had seen on the questionnaire, and she had turned out to be a horrible teacher with no classroom discipline and some of the most boring lessons he had ever sat through. At the end of the year, he had let her go and now he was trying again to fill the same position.
“And we still need to talk about which other teachers you plan to let go.”
Bradford sighed. “I’ve told you guys already, I like who I have and I don’t really have anyone I want to get rid of.”
“I thought Dr. Marston made herself very clear on that subject. Have you worked on those growth plans yet?”
“I’ll have them on your desk by the end of the week, just like you asked.”
“And then we’ll at least have those two gone.”
“If they don’t fulfill the requirements of the growth plan.”
“And they won’t, right?”
He sighed again. They had had this discussion before. Both teachers were more than capable in his eyes. They had room for improvement, certainly, but he truly believed that both deserved to keep their jobs. They were good teachers and they were willing to work at getting better, but they were victims of another initiative. The dreaded walkthroughs.
Bradford knew who his best teachers were. He knew who his weakest teachers were as well. He was in and out of their classrooms daily, seeing their best and their worst days. He had paired up the newer teachers with experienced mentors and he had strong department heads who monitored their peers and provided guidance as needed. But Dr. Marston and her team of assistants from the central office had decided that they should conduct walkthroughs, five to ten minute observations once or twice a semester, to help evaluate teachers and identify weak links.
Sadly, the walkthroughs were by all accounts a huge joke. Even though they were supposed to be unannounced, spontaneous observations, teachers were generally aware within minutes when the administrative team landed on a particular campus. Texts and emails went out immediately and everyone went on high alert. The worst teachers in the district were the most likely to put on the best “dog and pony show” and therefore receive glowing marks from Mary Anne and her team who loved to decorate their specially designed forms with personal notes and smiley faces. Veteran teachers who were actually some of the strongest teachers with whom Bradford had ever worked, had been known to receive awful walkthrough grades simply because they refused to play the game and had ignored the uninvited intruders and simply just continued with their planned activities and lessons. One of Bradford’s best teachers had gotten a horrible evaluation after doing nothing more than walking around the room monitoring while her students completed the test they were taking.
The Bulldog had apparently been offended that the teacher had not stopped what she was doing to perform on cue. Even when she later learned that the teacher had twice been named Teacher of the Year in Eastlake, she refused to amend the walkthrough or change her opinion that the woman was a terrible teacher and should definitely be replaced. Bradford hated the walkthroughs based on common sense. That Dr. Marston truly believed her brief classroom visits made her more qualified than he to evaluate his teachers was ridiculous in his opinion. Her insistence on the importance of her administrative walkthroughs, made him feel as if his daily observations throughout the year counted for nothing.
Based on her evaluations, Marston had sent him a list of teachers she believed should be replaced. He was shocked to see two of his team leaders on the list. He had already met with her twice to plead his case and eventually she had dispatched the Bulldog to give him her final recommendations. Three of the teachers were on probationary contracts and could be let go with no recourse. The fact that Bradford had given all three positive yearly evaluations made no difference to Marston or the Bulldog. Because of their contracts, the other two teachers could not be so easily dismissed. He would actually have to show cause and in his mind, there was none.
The Bulldog had the answer. “Put them on a growth plan, then when they fail to follow through, you have grounds to dismiss.”
“What if they do everything we ask them to do? These ladies want to be here. They love their jobs and they will not be happy about getting put on a growth plan, but they’ll do whatever they have to do to stay on.”
“Then find something they won’t do.”
He was shocked. Not that she thought it, but that she would say it out loud. And he was offended. And honestly, angry. “So, I thought the purpose of a growth plan was to help a teacher improve.”
She looked at him like he was a total idiot. “Oh, grow up! They’re not gonna improve. They’re just gonna hang around and pull down our scores forever unless we do something about ‘em.”
“So, what do you suggest I put in there that they won’t do? ‘Cause I’m serious, they’ll do whatever they have to do to stay.”
“Just figure it out. It’s not that hard. Make ‘em meet with you two or three times a week at seven in the morning before school. Sooner or later they’ll get tired of it or wake up late or something and as soon as they’ve missed a meeting, you got ‘em.”
He was shocked again. “And you would fire somebody for being late to a meeting?”
“Not late. Straight up seven, leave. Go somewhere for breakfast or something. Then you document that they didn’t show up for the scheduled meeting.”
“And again, you would fire someone for that?”
“Look, it’s not that big a deal. You document that they failed to fulfill the requirements of the growth plan and that’s all you need to say to file for nonrenewal.”
“Sounds to me like we’re just setting them up to fail.”
“Call it what you will. Just get it done.”
But he didn’t. He couldn’t do it. He wrote the plans and met with them separately to discuss everything involved. He told them how important it was that they fully comply with every single condition, and they did. They attended workshops, they read professional journals and wrote summaries, they observed other teachers, they met with him weekly and with their mentors daily. They jumped through every hoop imaginable and Bradford reported to the Bulldog that they had completed their plans flawlessly. She was not happy.
In the end, the teachers were not happy either. They blamed Bradford for the torturous process and he accepted the responsibility, even when they went to the central office to meet with Marston and the Bulldog to complain about the way in which their principal had singled them out for growth plans despite the good evaluations he had given them every year including this one. Marston then had the audacity to secretly confide in several board members that Bradford’s own teachers were so unhappy with him that they had made a special trip to the central office to meet with her.
No wonder he was tired. No wonder he was seriously considering retirement for the first time.
***
The reward trip was coming up on Friday. It was a simple outing across the street to Sully’s, but Bradford was looking forward to it. Finally, something positive he could focus on and forget about the central office for a bit. He had gotten the list of students with perfect attendance from his secretary Linda and all the permission slips had come back already, so he was not anticipating any problems or issues. He had made the arrangements himself with Miss Ellie and everything was set.
There were eighteen names and Linda had double checked all their records. There were of course, at least four who shouldn’t have qualified, but despite his personal opinions, they had perfect attendance according to the rules stated in the student handbook. Bradford had a problem with parents who were so obsessed with their child receiving some cheap paper certificate, or a trip to Sully’s, that they would send them to school deathly ill if necessary. He had seen these students sitting in the nurse’s office with fevers in the hundreds while the parents purposely dawdled so that the child would not be checked out before ten o’clock. According to the handbook, if they were on campus at that time, they received attendance credit for the day and remained eligible for perfect attendance rewards. In the meantime, they had probably infected dozens of their classmates. Bradford had tried unsuccessfully to change the policy believing that perfect had a very clear definition and kids who left early multiple times clearly did not have perfect attendance.
Nevertheless, he was still looking forward to having burgers and ice cream cones with the kids on Friday. Linda stepped into the doorway to tell him he had a phone call. A parent. He tried his best to always take such calls. It was the mother of one of the students on the list he was holding. “Mrs. Ramsey, what can I do for you today?”
She quickly explained that her son’s teacher had sent home a note saying that he could not go on the reward trip on Friday because of his behavior in class. He was very upset. He had really been excited about the trip and now he was crushed. Could Bradford do anything to help, she had asked. He told her that he would look into the situation and get back to her by the end of the day. The Ramsey family was one of the community’s poorest. He thought the boy had probably never eaten at Sully’s and he was determined to do whatever he could to ensure the boy got his hard-earned reward.
“Linda, tell Mrs. Gray I need to see her right away.”
He sat back and sighed deeply. Of course, it would be Gray. He loved her most days, but other days he would gladly have strangled her himself. She was a good teacher, one of his best, but she was very opinionated and often she had found ploys to get around his rules and get her own way. She lived by the motto that it was “easier to get forgiveness, than permission.” He had banged heads with her on several occasions, most recently over a field trip just last month, and the Ramsey boy had been at the center of that conflict as well.
Her students were at PE and she was in his office within minutes.
“Yes, sir?”
“Sit down, Mrs. Gray. Tell me what’s going on with Will Ramsey.”
She took her seat tentatively, perched on the edge as if she intended to be gone soon and had no need to get comfortable. “Same as always. You know he stays in trouble.”
“His mom says you sent a note home saying he couldn’t go on the trip to Sully’s on Friday.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mrs. Gray, we’ve had this discussion before.”
“Yes, sir, and we didn’t agree that time either.”
The month before, she had left Will Ramsey at school with several other students while the entire fourth grade had gone on their big yearly field trip. Mrs. Gray had purposely, or so he thought, waited until the morning of the trip to inform him that she would be leaving three students behind. Another fourth grade teacher had already talked to him about two students who had not returned permission slips. In each case, she had called the parents and made every effort to solve the problem, before reluctantly being forced to make other arrangements. Gray had not done the same.
Because the boys in question were behavior problems, she had decided that they did not deserve to go and had sent notes home to inform their parents that they would not be allowed to attend the field trip. Bradford was furious that she had waited until the last minute to let him know, but Gray insisted that she had simply forgotten and that she had no idea that Bradford would have a problem with her excluding those students.
“They would have just caused problems anyway.”
“That’s not the point. Every fourth grader is supposed to make this trip to the museum. It’s an educational opportunity and you know that. We’ve talked about this.”
Bradford knew and understood that a kid like Will Ramsey would never get the chance to go to the museum on his own. Many of the fourth graders, whose parents could easily afford it, had been to the museum numerous times. To Bradford, the field trips were essential for the poorer kids on his campus, and despite their behavior issues, he felt they should never be excluded. The other students had simply stayed home that day, but Will had been there and spent the entire day sitting in the library. He was already thinking about the perfect attendance award and trip. Now, Mrs. Gray was again trying to deprive the boy of yet another opportunity he might otherwise never get.
“Mrs. Gray, with all due respect, this is my trip, not yours. Perfect attendance awards are determined by the office and he qualifies. So, he’s going, and I have no intention of letting you prevent him from going.”
“Mr. Bradford, I’ve been telling these kids all semester that they had better behave or they would not be allowed to go on any of these school trips. It’s motivation. You’re interfering with my classroom discipline when you undermine my efforts and reward them when they don’t deserve it.”
His irritation was growing. “Mrs. Gray, he has perfect attendance. He earned the reward and he does deserve it.”
“He’s just going to cause problems. He can’t behave.”
He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even and measured. “Mrs. Gray, if you’re worried about the boy embarrassing you, or your class, or the school for that matter, you can certainly stay here, and we’ll find someone else to watch your students.”
Eleanor Gray was angry, but she held back the words that threatened to come spilling out. He was her boss, after all. She offered a tight smile. “Yes, sir.”
He hated to be so ugly and direct, especially with one of his better teachers. He didn’t want to create any unnecessary conflicts, so he softened his tone and gave in to his better angels.
“Mrs. Gray, I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep an eye on Will, hold his hand, tie him to my side, whatever.” He laughed. “You take care of the rest of your class and let me deal with him, okay?”
She should have been satisfied, but she couldn’t resist a parting shot as she rose. “You’re still contradicting me in front of the kids. I told them if they misbehaved, they couldn’t go on the trip. You’re keeping me from following through on my promises.”
“Your threats, you mean?”
She looked offended. He continued. “Yes, I am keeping you from following through on the threats you made. Maybe you should be more careful what you say about my reward trips. And my field trips too. I am still the principal here, Mrs. Gray.”
He moved toward her and when she backed up into the outer office, he closed the door and smiled in spite of himself. “It’s good to be the King,” he thought, recalling a favorite old movie line. He called Mrs. Ramsey to let her know that Will would be participating in the trip to Sully’s.
***
The following day, the next crisis hit. Brent Griffen stopped by to see him. Brent had come over several years earlier from the high school. He had coached for many years, but when the Intermediate campus had an opening for a PE teacher, he had applied immediately. He had become somewhat burned out by the coaching and as a former coach himself, Bradford understood completely. He had been by far the best candidate, and Bradford was happy to have him on his staff. He enjoyed working with the younger students and had good rapport with the other teachers on the campus. The kids loved him and so did the parents.
“Mr. Bradford, can I talk with you about something?”
He nodded and Brent closed the office door, sat down, and began a long personal story. Bradford was touched that Brent would be so open with him. They had not been great friends. He had always liked the man, but he had found that it was sometimes very difficult to be friends when you’re the boss. He was the direct supervisor and evaluator for his teachers and that role could be hard enough without the involvement of close personal relationships. Sometimes it was just better to maintain some distance.
“Coach,” he paused. “Brent, I really appreciate your trust in me, but you may not care for my advice. Truthfully, I think you’re making a big mistake.”
Brent Griffen had just informed his principal that he was gay and that he and his partner were thinking of going out of state over the summer to get married. He had come to ask Bradford what he thought of the idea.
“So, which part do you think is a mistake, admitting I’m gay, or getting married?”
“Both really. If you want my honest opinion.”
“Wow, I thought I’d get a little more support out of you than that. I mean, I know you’re a Christian and all, I’ve heard you say the blessing at enough of our pot luck luncheons around here, and I know you’re a long-time member of First Baptist, but I thought you would be more compassionate about my situation.”
“Brent, this isn’t about my Christian views or anything. I’m trying to be practical here.”
“What does that mean?”
“This is a small, pretty conservative little town. I just think the people here might have a problem with an openly gay teacher.”
“So, I should just hide who I really am and try not to shock anybody with my liberal lifestyle? Well, thanks for that.”
His sarcasm did not sit well with Bradford. “You know what I don’t understand? Why do gays and lesbians always feel like they need to stand up and announce who they’re sleeping with? I always thought talking about your sex life in public was kinda inappropriate, but you know, all these people think they need to have a press conference to let everybody know they prefer whoever or whatever. I don’t get it. I don’t go around telling everybody I sleep with women.”
“I’m sorry you think I’m just some kind of joke.” He got up to leave.
“Sit back down, Brent. Please?” He waited while his teacher took a moment and then settled back again. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or come across as a jerk or anything, but seriously, do you really think making a big public statement like getting married is the smart thing to do? In Eastlake?”
They sat for several minutes without speaking. Bradford had heard rumors around town before. Brent was a single man in his forties and as far as he could remember, he had never known him to be in a relationship, of any kind. He had coached the boys’ basketball team at the high school for several years and many a high school girl had harbored a secret crush on the handsome, athletic coach. Most of the rumors had begun after he had been seen several times late at night at Sully’s with a man no one recognized. Brent had introduced him as an old friend who lived out of town and soon the man had gone and the rumors abated.
“Mr. Bradford, I really do appreciate your honesty. And you’re probably right. I wish I could explain it better. I just hate the feeling that I’m always having to hide who I really am. All the time.”
“And I just hate to see you mess things up for yourself around here.”
“Let me put it this way, to answer your earlier questions. I don’t feel any great need to say out loud who I’m sleeping with or having sex with, but you know, when you love someone, you want to be able to share that, not hide it. Or feel like you gotta hide them.”
“Brent, I don’t know what to say.”
“You know, Mr. Bradford, you have a great wife, Annie isn’t it? She and I talked for a long time at the Christmas luncheon last year. And you know, I’ve seen you two together at football games, and open houses, and all those end-of-year banquets and stuff. And you’re right, you don’t have to stand up and announce that you’re in a heterosexual relationship, but how would you feel if you had to keep Annie at home all the time and never let her be with you out in public ‘cause of what people might say?” He glanced at the framed photo on Bradford’s desk. “Or if you couldn’t even keep a picture of her in your office?”
He got up again and this time Bradford didn’t stop him.
“Thanks for listening to me, Mr. Bradford. You have a good day now.”
***
On Wednesday, the Bulldog came to see him. She was still angry about the two teachers who were on growth plans. “Dr. Marston still wants these two gone.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Reassign them.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know, be creative. Put one of them in ISS and make the other one a cafeteria aide or something, I don’t care.”
“And how do we afford to pay those two positions a full teacher’s salary. Both of those spots are uncertified aides right now.”
“The idea is to make them quit. Surely you don’t think they’ll stick around if you pull them from the classroom?”
“What if they do? Smith has to have a job of some kind. Her husband is disabled and they can barely make ends meet as it is.”
“Wah, wah. Pardon my fake tears. Look Bradford, give ‘em a great reference and pray for somebody else to hire ‘em. We just need ‘em gone from here.”
“What about the others?”
“Those three on probationary contracts have to go too.”
“And I have no say in the matter?”
“Just tell ‘em before the next board meeting. We’ll take care of the rest.”
She left him sitting there feeling powerless and depressed. After a few minutes, he got up to walk the building. He popped into several classes and renewed his spirit by connecting with the kids. There were some students who loved to shake hands or trade high fives whenever they saw him. Others would wrap their arms around him like they hadn’t seen him in years, even if they had just hugged him five minutes before. Others would be content with just an exchange of smiles or a quick wave, but whatever the reaction or even a lack of one, he always felt better after he had been out among the students.
He stopped at Mrs. Gray’s room and listened for a few minutes as she talked about book reports. He visited with a few students about the books they were reading and encouraged them to do a good job on their presentations. He stopped to ask Will Ramsey if he was behaving himself. Mrs. Gray standing nearby shook her head in answer. Will simply smiled.
He walked out to the gym and watched the students lining up for calisthenics. He walked by Coach Griffen and gave him a brotherly slap on the back. He feigned injury and they shared a laugh. He walked through to the playground and stood for a while watching the empty swings swaying in the breeze before heading back to his office.
***
He started early the next day and met with each of the five teachers on the superintendent’s list. The three probationary teachers took the news better than he thought. He told them in all honesty how much he appreciated all they had done. He told them not to hesitate to put him down as a reference and he would do whatever he could to help them find other positions. Only one cried.
The other two teachers were much more difficult. They wanted answers and he had none. He fell back on the cold, generic language of the school business. “We feel it is in the best interest of the district to reassign you to another position at this time. If you choose not to accept this reassignment, you may submit your resignation before the next board meeting.” He would love to have told them the truth, that the superintendent they worshipped was the person who had singled them out, determined them to be weak and ineffective, and insisted that he pull the trigger. He was not surprised to learn that both made return visits to the central office to once again complain about their principal.
He had a truly awkward conversation the next day with the husband of one of these two ladies. He was extremely angry and demanded Bradford tell him why he was so unfairly persecuting his wife. Again there was nothing he could say beyond generalities which did nothing to calm the man’s rage. “Do I need to come over there and kick your ass?”
Bradford wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation, but he didn’t. He apologized and told the man it was nothing personal. He really was sorry about the whole thing. The husband’s final threat was even more humorous. He was going straight to the superintendent to demand an answer. Bradford silently wished him luck with that. Good old Mary Anne would probably just agree with him that someone needed to go kick Bradford’s ass.
On his way home, he stopped at Sully’s to double check all the details for the trip the next day. Ellie sat with him at one of the picnic tables and expressed concern. “You look tired, Mr. Bradford.”
“I am Miss Ellie. It’s been a long week.”
“Everything okay?”
“I guess. Or it will be. I’m seriously thinking about hangin’ it up after this year.”
“Really? What’s Annie think about that?”
“She’s all for it. She thinks I should’ve quit years ago.”
“Well, it might be nice for you two to get away, travel a little bit, you know, enjoy your golden years and all that.”
“You and Sully ever travel much?”
“We always talked about it, but I never could drag him away from this place more than a few days here and there.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
“Nah, he loved this place. Whenever we did get away, all he could think about was getting back here. Our baby, you know.”
Ellie was distracted by two of her carhops over by the building practicing the latest dance craze. Twerking? She wondered if her hips had ever had that kind of flexibility. Probably not, she mused. At least the girls weren’t visible to the customers. They noticed her staring in their direction and scurried away hoping she hadn’t seen too much, but fearing she had. Even during slow business hours, Ellie always kept a close watch on her staff. Bradford rose to leave. “I’ll let you get back to work. You take care now, Miss Ellie.”
He found Annie preparing supper when he got home. After they ate, he sat her down for a long and serious discussion about their future. Bradford had left Eastlake in the mid 80’s after a huge blow-up with the athletic director and head football coach, Evan Peters. Bradford had confronted Peters after one of his seniors had admitted to him that she had been carrying on a secret relationship with Peters. So far, all they had done was exchange some letters and done a lot of flirting at Sully’s, but he was pressuring her to go further and she had become frightened. Bradford assured her that he would take care of Peters and he did, but when the year ended, Peters gained his revenge. He was winning football games and his popularity had never been higher. Despite the rumors of affairs and his often overt mistreatment of his players, he had the solid support of the school board. He recommended Bradford be reassigned to coach junior high football knowing that he would not accept the demotion. He didn’t.
He took a job outside of Waco and spent the next several years coaching girls’ athletics while working on his Master’s Degree on weekends, evenings, and summers. He met Annie during a night class while she was employed at the dean’s office doing secretarial work. It was a temp job and she hated it, but her mother was ill and she needed the extra income to pay the medical bills. During the day, she was the office manager at a local accounting firm. She reluctantly left the job to become a full-time wife and mother, but after two miscarriages, she and Bradford had stopped trying. Some things just aren’t meant to be, they guessed.
Annie quickly learned the politics of her husband’s job. During volleyball and later basketball season, she sat in the bleachers amazed at the openly critical fans, mostly parents. Bradford did his best to explain. “It’s the whole little league mentality. These moms and dads think being the volunteer coach of their son or daughter’s Little Dribbler’s team makes them experts. They all think they could do my job and most of them think they could do it better. They have no idea.”
“They’re awfully vocal about it.”
“That they are. You just have to learn to tune ‘em out.”
The next lesson she learned was about school boards. Once again, a head football coach and athletic director was after Bradford’s job. He had been hired by a wonderful coach and AD who had supported the girls’ program fully and trusted Bradford to make decisions independently. Unfortunately, he had not won enough football games to please the board and he had been fired after Bradford’s second year at the school. The new AD was a control freak who insisted that nothing could be done without his direct approval and Bradford found himself spending more time sitting around waiting for the AD’s signature than he did actually coaching. Even the simplest paperwork took forever. It was very frustrating.
The AD had also inserted his wife into the girls’ program as Bradford’s new assistant coach and everyone knew that the ultimate goal was for her to replace him as the head coach. When the AD approached the board a year later about making changes, Bradford was once again threatened with reassignment. Annie was furious when she discovered that the board was unwilling to stand in the way of their AD.
“Can’t they see what he’s doing? And why?”
“Oh, they can see it alright. They just don’t want to fight with him about it.”
“Why not? They afraid he’s gonna leave?”
“Pretty much. Annie, this is Texas and football is king. They don’t care about winning girls’ basketball games. They only care about football. Hell, half the guys on the board only ran so that they could hire and fire the football coaches.”
“And these seven people run the schools?”
“Pretty much.”
“So, the guy who runs the gas station, the one who manages the Food Mart, the guy who stocks the shelves at the hardware store, the lady who delivers our mail, and three unemployed folks without degrees, those are the people who are running the school district?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, ideally, those people hire the folks with educational degrees who actually know how to run the schools and then they stay out of the way and let them do their jobs. But of course, that doesn’t apply to the coaches. Again, little league mentality. Four of those guys coach the local youth league football team and every one of them thinks he’s ready to go coach in the NFL.”
“Well, that’s just stupid. And what about the girls? Don’t they care at all about them?”
“I wish. When I first got here, one of the board members had a daughter on my team and he cared, but she graduated, and now he’s got two younger boys who’ll be on the varsity football team next year, so he’s not really interested in me or the girls’ program anymore.”
They moved back to East Texas soon after, and a few years after that, Bradford returned to Eastlake as an assistant principal. The move to administration was good for him as he had tired of the politics of coaching, but he soon learned that administrative politics were even worse.
***
Friday finally came and his morning began with another parent phone call. One of his fifth grade boys had been assigned to ISS for the next three days. The boy’s mother was not happy.
“Mr. Bradford, I have a problem with the way your teacher wrote this up.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t deny that Tony hit that other boy and he shouldn’t have done that, but Mr. Roberts put down that he was bullying that boy and that’s not right. My son is not a bully and I don’t want you putting those kinds of labels on him. You need to tear up that write-up and do another one.”
“Mrs. Faulkner, I honestly don’t have a problem with the write-up. Mr. Roberts says he’s talked with you about this numerous times and according to him, Tony frequently teases this particular boy, calls him names, and you know this isn’t the first time he’s hit him. This is his fourth referral for this kind of behavior and the third incident with this same boy. I think that could definitely be called bullying. And frankly this aggressive behavior of his should be your concern, not the label.”
“Mr. Bradford, you know these boys play rough all the time. And the name-calling and teasing goes both ways. All the boys act that way.”
“No, Mrs. Faulkner, they don’t. And I’m not buying that boys will be boys excuse. Your son is the instigator and most of the other boys in class are scared to death of him. And I don’t have a problem calling that kind of behavior bullying.”
“So, you won’t change the write-up?”
“No ma’am, I think I’ll leave it just like it is.”
“Well, my husband will want to talk with you about this.”
“That’s fine. Have him call me. Anything else I can do for you today?”
“What about the three days of ISS? Can’t you just give him swats?”
“No ma’am. I tried that before and it didn’t seem to have any effect on his behavior. As a matter of fact, he was back in my office the very next day.”
“But he’s gonna miss class and that’s not fair.”
“Well, the rest of the boys need a break from Tony. They’ve been having a hard time concentrating in class with the threat of getting beat up every day. And that hasn’t been very fair either.”
She hung up and he smiled at the futile gesture. He found some irony in the fact that Tony’s mother had tried so hard to bully him, while finding it so difficult to accept that her son employed the same tactics daily. It seemed obvious to him where the boy had learned the behavior.
He turned his focus back to the day’s reward trip. There were only a few weeks of school left and the kids were already getting antsy, but Bradford was happy nonetheless. The morning passed quickly and soon they were gathering the students for the trip to Sully’s. Will Ramsey was thrilled to be at the office for something other than misbehavior, and everyone else seemed excited as well. They lined them up and got them out the door a short while later and with the help of one of the deputy sheriffs, they soon had them all across the street and seated at the picnic tables in front of the drive-in. Ellie had added a couple of new tables last year and the current set of tables easily allowed room for the students.
Bradford sat with Will and they talked about football. He had played on the youth league team and had already begun to dream of the Friday night lights that so entranced the boys of Texas. One of the girls at their table talked about being a cheerleader and Bradford smiled. As a former girls’ coach, he couldn’t let her comments pass without some challenge. “Why settle for being a cheerleader? Don’t you want to play volleyball, or basketball? Or run track or play softball? Maybe these guys should be cheering for you.”
“You so funny, Mr. Bradford. I’m gonna be a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader when I grow up.”
“Well, I hope you make it then, if that’s what you want.”
The burgers were great, as always, and Bradford had the kids line up to thank Miss Ellie as they picked up their ice cream cones. Soon, they were on their way back to school, tired and sticky, but still elated. He would miss the celebrations, the rewards.
Mrs. Ramsey came by to pick up Will at the end of the day. Normally, he would have ridden the bus home, but she had made a special trip, so that she could see Mr. Bradford. She had tears in her eyes as she thanked him again for making sure that Will was allowed to make the trip. She hugged him and he let her, knowing that he had made a difference for at least one child that day and wishing he could feel that way more often. He walked Will and his mother to their car and got another hug from both. Again he thought, he would miss the rewards.
He walked to the gym to catch Coach Griffen before he got away. He and Annie wanted to invite Brent and his partner for supper Saturday night. “If you’re not too busy.”
“We’d be happy to come over and have supper with you guys. Tell Annie we really appreciate it.”
He thought that his coach was near to tearing up. “Sure thing. We’ll see you tomorrow.” More rewards, he thought.
He went back to his office and typed a rather generic resignation letter. He printed it out and signed it, before dropping it into the school mail, and then he went home to Annie and the rest of his life.
