Friday, October 17, 2008
So today we had professional development day, with the option of working in our classroom or attending PDs elsewhere. I needed classroom time badly, and spent the first two hours re-vamping the room arrangment, putting out new books and rearranging my classroom library, doing schnazzy new displays, etc. I was so relaxed and happy and eager today, and made a new literature unit board and a new reading board. The whole time I was thinking about my kids and how they would react.
And then at 10 the Big Cheese announced 12 names of people who needed to see him before noon. Mine was one of them. I knew immediately what it was because I'd figured it was coming (I even speculated about it yesterday here. My own prescience alarms me~)As soon as he made the announcement I started packing my shit and stopped hanging new stuff on the walls. When my appointment came the Big Cheese was very upset--he'd begged me to stay at the Book last year, after all, and had fought to keep me--but because of seniority he had no choice, etc. He was actually tearing up.
They cut 14 of us. We have to go to a job fair Monday night to see what schools have openings. We're still guaranteed slots in the City school system, but have to move to schools that have lost staff or which have had an increased enrollment and need more teachers. All the support staff who have seniority at the Book are going back into classrooms, while the first and second year teachers such as myself are getting axed.
At the bar after work my buds bought my drinks and a couple of the insiders told us how hard the administrators fought to keep us. They had their own list of 14 names which was refused by Doc Alonzo the CEO. He said they had to shave rookies and certain vets were untouchable, poor performance or no. A team is going to headquarters Monday, teachers from the Book who have Alonzo's ear (including Lukie)--but I don't hold out much hope. It's great that they're going to try advocating for us, however. Stand-up folks indeed.
I love many of my team-mates. I will miss them dreadfully. We've been through hell together. I love my kids too. I can't face them. How am I going to tell them without falling apart? I've invested so much, and had assumed we'd be together three years as promised. I should have never told the kids that the plan was for me to loop with them their whole middle school careers. They're going to be devastated.
I'm a miserable wreck.