Chapter Chair Quackenbush sent out a fresh bulletin to his troops
assuring them the battle for John Wayne Cotter H.S. was ongoing; talks
with the Board of Education were continuing. All was not lost, something
would be worked out. In the proposals for change, the interests of the
teachers were paramount and would not be compromised.
All of which had a nice ring of defiance, but did little to lift spirits.
Two teachers in Radix' department were among several who went on
extended sick leave. The word was they were cashing in their accumulated
sick days and, fearing the worst, looking for jobs outside the teaching
profession. Their absence meant that substitutes were sent by the Board
to man the classrooms. This led to frequent scenes of disruption, the
mobilizing of school Security.
There was a huge commotion one day that nearly grew into a riot. A
substitute teacher had "lost control of her class", as the dean of discipline
explained later.
She was from Nigeria, and she wore a bright patterned robe whenever
she reported for duty. She didn't have a classroom key, so her class was
usually found milling around outside a locked door. And she was tired of
asking other teachers, who smiled but seemed irritated, to open doors for
her.
The students couldn't pronounce her name so they quickly settled for "Miss
Mandela". They mimicked her accent ̶ You children haavve no risspec!!
̶ they drew chalk pictures of her on the board, exaggerating the tortoise
shell glasses on her nose. They asked her questions about Africa, and made
monkey noises which, she reminded them, were "very racist".
On the day she "lost control" she'd told a student to Shut up! (Later she
argued she didn't see any harm in what she said, didn't understand why Be
quiet! would be the preferred choice of words.) The offended student rose
to his feet, threw down his chair in outrage, came up to her desk, and
screamed ̶ You telling me to shut up? YOU shut up! You shut the FUCK
up! ̶ his hands menacing, but not touching her. The class went ̶ whoo!
whoo! whoo! ̶ and drummed on the desks; a few more chairs got thrown
down. The commotion spilled out in the hallway, triggering an exodus from
nearby classrooms of students thinking there was a fight". Worried
teachers, fearing "loss of control" on the entire floor, called for Security.
Spring days, still cool but warming up, led to a breakout of seasonal
colours and fashion among the students, prompting Principal Wamp to
issue stern warnings about exposed mid-sections and the general tone of
the building.
Despite the overhanging gloom some teachers seemed strangely energized.
Bill McCraggen had switched to season (army) green tee shirts, short
pants, sneakers and tube socks, and a Yankee baseball cap. His Girls
Soccer team was out on the field getting ready for the season.
His commitment to task attracted smirks from teachers who couldn't see
the point, since soon there would be no John Wayne Cotter H.S. To which
Bill McCraggen would retort, coolly swinging his coach whistle, that come
what may, they would be really "stoopid" to shut down the sports
department. Not after all the years of winning trophies. If nothing else,
the school could boast about its fine sports tradition. There were plaques,
awards, teams pictures and memories going back decades. Doing away
with the sports department would be plain "stoopid".
Jim Lightbody switched to blue jeans (under which he wore his long johns)
a checkered shirt and cowboy hat. He kept saying he had a new job
already lined up "out in Texas", but nobody believed him.
There was now, more frequently than before, the strong aroma of
marijuana in the stairwells. Somebody was smoking marijuana in the
building. No one was ever seen, no one was ever caught; and everyone
suspected those quick-tempered, foul-mouthed Jamaican students who
walked the hallways and hung about on the sidewalk during morning
sessions because the weather was really nice.
Radix tried not to think about what would happen come June. He
expected to be excessed; last hired, first to be laid off. Not much he could
do about it. He carried on dutifully. He even took time out to quell
student fears about their future, explaining there was nothing to worry
about, education in one form or another would continue. He avoided
hallway huddles and didn't say much of anything to anyone.
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!", a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 