Starting her third year as principal of John Wayne Cotter H.S., Theresa Wamp
had prepared for her moment on stage at the faculty meeting, addressing the
staff after the Christmas break, at the start of a new calendar year. The
district superintendent was in attendance, as was a representative from the
Dept. of Education.
They had an announcement to make. John Wayne Cotter H.S., the institution
they’d been a part of for so many years, would soon be a thing of the past.
Its name would be changed; the way it was structured and run would be
radically altered. A new institution based on an exiting new concept would
take its place.
And Principal Wamp felt fortunate, so very fortunate, to be the one to break
the news of this impending new life and form for the school.
So with a keen eye on future arrangements, to the possibility that she might
be asked to play an important role in the school’s transformation, Principal
Wamp hoped, on this first ground-breaking day of the year, to give the kind
of leadership performance that would leave no doubt in her visitors’ minds
that her managerial skills (she was still acting principal) should not be
overlooked.
As for what the changes would mean for the faculty, well, the details were still
being worked out; but from what she’d gathered so far – and this came For Your
Ears Only from the Superintendent – the Dept. of Education had in mind a little
house cleaning. Some of the people at that moment noisily carrying on, still
filing into the auditorium, would be excessed or assigned elsewhere.
What pleasure! To put a little fear and anxiety into the lives of the faculty, most
of whom were still ringing in the New Year, and hadn’t a clue what awaited
them down the road.
At the moment they sat scattered all over the auditorium, too many occupying
the seats at the back – her frequent appeals to faculty to come closer, to occupy
the centre seats, fell on deaf ears; some reading the newspapers, the solitaries
in the wings; the tiny cluster of black women; the union-sheltered shirkers of
responsibility, the time servers, grubs and worms.
What a pleasure, indeed! To toll the bells, to watch the upturned faces turn
grave with bewilderment when the news broke of what was coming.
First, she had to have some kind of order in the auditorium.
Principal Wamp did not like raising her voice and asking for quiet. Her approach,
as custodian of the school’s good name, was one of patience, good humor and
propriety. She liked to appeal to the faculty’s professionalism, after all they
were adults; they often complained of the unprofessional way they were
treated, yet here they were twisting in their seats, clucking away like barnyard
hens, stirring up an unbelievable hullabaloo
She caught the Superintendent looking at her, waiting for proceedings to begin.
She tested the microphone – “Ladies and Gentlemen” – and looked around as if
she’d misplaced something. She stepped forward and spoke to one of her
assistant principals in the front row; then she walked back and stood ready to
start her presentation. The buzz in the auditorium ebbed and flowed; no one
seemed quite ready to hush so the meeting could get started.
Principal Wamp cleared her throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she appealed,
humming a little tune as she waited.
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FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 