Baltimore Diary

Dr. Andy Gets Around

Earl Hickey: How was your first day of school?
Randy Hickey: Great! I really enjoyed science class. Did you know that before we were humans we were monkeys?
Earl Hickey: Really? What were we before monkeys?
Randy Hickey: I don't know. I can't even remember being a monkey.

—My Name is Earl, "Randy's Touchdown" (10/4/05)

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The first day of school is different for people in my position. We're still getting our act together, making sure that teachers have the stuff they need for the Special Education students, chasing after records for the students who have transferred in, and so on. Most of us couldn't get all of this done last week because, of the four days we had last week, two of them were spent in staff development. How much of it could have waited until, say, early next week? Most of it. Not all of it, I'll concede, but most of it. We could have done a half-day, then gotten our preliminary work done, then done a couple of solid days of the staff development, and probably NOT have been as stressed as so many of the IEP Team Associates now seem to be.

My next day in the new school (Friday), incidentally, went better than the first one. I met with the principal, who'd read the email from my boss about what had happened the other day (or maybe she read the post here? Ha! Ha! Just kidding. I don't get that much readership). The conversation opened with something along the lines of "I hear you had a little trouble here on Wednesday." I didn't get too deeply into it but conceded that this was the case. She promised me the information that I needed, and later on was kind enough to introduce me to the rest of the staff, but the documentation I'd asked for didn't materialize until yesterday.

The other thing that happened on Friday was that the principal told us to be ready for a visit on Monday by Dr. Alonso and an entourage of others, and that the press was likely to be there as well. This turned out to be no exaggeration. There were two TV vans out front and about ten people in the parade of people touring the school. They probably would have walked right past my office if someone hadn't said "That's the IEP Office." Dr. Alonso poked his head in the doorway--literally--and said "Hi, how are you?" We said "good morning", he wished us a good year, and moved on. The rest of the parade, although they had stopped behind him, simply walked past because he was in motion. Picture a mother duck and her ducklings following behind: mama stops, all stop. Mama goes, all go. It was practically cute.

The tour ran throughout the building and moved on to another school. They were all over the city, based on what I later saw on Channel 13 and Teach Baltimore's post at his blog. (Dude, you need a snappier moniker.) At least three schools were visited yesterday that I know of, and perhaps they got in one more that I wasn't able to suss out. Supposedly there's more touring going on today.

But ponder this: at least three schools visited on the first day; at least two of them staffed by people who write blogs about life in Baltimore City Public Schools, and both of those people directly engaged by the CEO. That's an unsettling coincidence.

First-Day Hostility

[turns to the camera after being dissed by Elaine]
Ted Striker: What a pisser!

—Airplane! (1980)

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So yesterday was actually the second day of work, but since we were in staff development the entire first day, it was my first day in the schools.

I got to keep my assignment from last year, but since they decided that that school, plus helping about 30 others didn't have me busy enough, they added a second school to my caseload. So now I have on school one day a week (last year's assignment), another school two days a week (new assignment), and helping the other schools the other two days a week. This would be in addition to fielding phone calls and emails when I'm in my schools, because if my attention isn't fractured then I can't screw up effectively.

Most IEP Team Associates get to see their homes by 4:30, even if they work in a "late" school. I'm usually hoping and praying to see my front door by 6:00. But, this is the life I chose, so.

I went to my new assignment yesterday morning. I got there later than I expected to, largely since it's on the other side of the city from where I live and I didn't anticipate the traffic involved. But nobody gave me grief about that part. Not that part.

As soon as I got in, I went to the staff sign-in book and the secretary told me to sign into the Visitor's Book. I said to her, "But I WORK here." Again she told me to sign in the Visitor's Book. Again, I said, "I WORK here." "Well, you're not in the book." I told her that it doesn't matter, I still need to sign in. She told me to create a line at the bottom of the appropriate page and sign in, then.

My next stop was at the mailboxes. I scanned the boxes looking for the IEP Team, or the ITA box. The secretary asked me what I was looking for and she told me that I'm looking for Mr. [my predecessor]. A few seconds later, she walked over to the boxes and smacked at the box, then sat back at her desk. I thanked her, took the materials and went to the office.

One of the special education teachers was there, reviewing a folder. She told me that when she came by on Monday, the room was a disaster, probably from the custodians taking everything out so they could wax the floors. She and another teacher took some time to put it back together, so that was kind of her. I started to get my caseload together and realized that, among my mail, there was nothing to indicate the students who'd entered or left the building since June. My caseload won't be accurate if I don't know who's there and who isn't, so back to the office I went.

"Hello," I said to the secretary. Nothing. Finally, after about ten seconds she looks up at me. "I need the entry and withdrawal documentation from the summer."

"OK," she said, and returned to what she was doing. Now, I didn't expect her to drop everything and come running to my aid, but what I didn't expect was to be competely ignored for the next fifteen minutes while she went about whatever she wanted to go about, rather than helping me. That was the point where I left the building and went to my other school, where the open arms welcomed me. And let me thank Jebus publicly that I have the same assistant because she's Just Plain Golden to me.

I'm not sure what it is that inspires this level of instant hostility in people, but this isn't the first time that this has happened to me. It's not even the second. But if I can't get my job done, then the school will wind up in violation of the Consent Decree and Federal law as well. And if the school gets charged with a violation, it's not going to be on me. BCPSS spies, you've been warned.

Another Place to Find Me

Clea: You'd think that demons invented Reality Shows, but somehow, humans thought of it first.

—Charmed, "Witch Wars" (5/9/04)

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I've mentioned from time to time that I'm a fan of your more traditional reality TV shows. I rather enjoy Survivor, The Amazing Race and, Jebus help me, The Apprentice. For whatever reason, the Baltimore Sun's "Reality Check" blog tends to ignore these shows (TENDS to--they don't ignore them completely) in its coverage. Maybe Sarah Kelber doesn't like them; I don't know.

I've done the occasional recap here for these shows but they seem a little out of place in this space, so I'm giving them their own space. Say "hello" to AmazingSurvivor, which will provide episode recaps and occasional bits of news. Right now there's only one post there, but as the season gets rolling, there will certainly be more stuff going on. If you're a fan, take a peek and I hope you enjoy.

Jesus is Listening

Carmen Reyes: Maybe if you pray every day Jesus Christ will come down from heaven, take 200 pounds, and bring you a decent woman, and a new car... [Phone rings] Oh! That must be Jesus! Hola? Momento! Yes, it is Jesus! He wants to know what color car you want!

—Lost, "Everybody Hates Hugo" (10/12/05)

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This is the view from my mother's front yard, approximately. The cross you see between the two houses is actually quite far away.

Behind those houses there's a wall. Behind the wall is three lanes of road, then a median, then another three lanes, then about a hundred yards of church parking lot before you get to that cross.

The cross is lit up at night, so it pretty much dominates what you see when you go outside. (It's not so well-lit, however, that I could take a decent night shot. Live with it.) But it's pretty distracting when you want to go outside and look at the stars and such.

But here's the other not-so-secret thing about that cross. It doubles as a cell tower. So I can't really tell if my mother's pissed off about having this particular feature in her face every time she leaves the house, or if she's upset because the church that built the cross is making a bunch of money from the phone company.

For what it's worth, I get GREAT reception when I'm visiting my mom.

My Next Blog Will Have to Have This Title, and Banner

Milo Pressman: What do you think they're going to do to Jack?
Tony Almeida: Not going to name a street after him, that's for sure.

—24, "1:00 p.m.-2:00 p.m. [1.14]" (3/5/02)

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This is a sign I've passed for literally years every time I drive to or from Florida. It was only this week that I took the time to stop, stand in the middle of the street (timing is everything when you're on US301), and take a picture.

Of the three I shot from the street, this is the only one that came out well. The other two, I moved the camera while I was swivelling my head to ensure that I wasn't about to be run down.

This street is in the town of Starke, FL. Most people around here associate Starke with the state prison, which is 11 miles away. In doing a little research, I've discovered that there's also a Call Street in Tallahassee.

Calls have been in North America since the mid-1600s, so describing my heritage is boring at best. Most people can get into their Italian or their Irish or whatever heritage, but we've been around this country forever. Yawn. As far as my research goes, which is scanty, or my father's research, which is more detailed, Calls were among the first Mormons to move out west. Consequently it's rather a common name in Utah. Those of you familiar with the Flying J truckstops will note that the owner is a fellow named Jay Call (get it? Flying Jay?), who hails from the SLC area.

I NEVER get the Family Discount for going there. What a gyp.

Anyway. This particular Call family appears to have been in Florida since at least the early 1800s. Isn't the Internet cool?

Hello, Dali

Lucy Kelson: You called everyone but Slurpee Heaven.
George Wade: That is not true. I did call Slurpee Heaven. They didn't want you. Heard you had attitude. Said you weren't "Slurpee" material.

—Two Weeks Notice (2002)

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I got to be a tourist today instead of a visitor.

My brother and I went to the Salvador Dali Museum, in St. Petersburg. Frankly I thought it was going to be kind of lame, but it turns out that this is a really good collection of Dali's work. There are well over a hundred of his works here, many of which are an important part of his body of work. In fact, it's perhaps the most comprehensive collection of his stuff that there is. His most famous painting, "The Persistence of Memory"—the one with all the melting clocks—is not here (it's at the Museum of Modern Art in New York), but there's a follow-up painting called "The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory", which they did manage to get, largely because MOMA declined to bid on it.

The museum was quite busy, which was also a surprise to me. They have guided tours that you can join, but while we weren't in the group, it was nearby for much of our visit. The docent who led the tour wore, of course, a Dali shoe hat. You can see her in the photo at this website, although she wore a black shoe today. As a result of our proximity to the rather large tour group, we managed to learn a few things by osmosis. One of the things we learned is that it's pronounced "Da-LEE", with the stress on the second syllable. That kind of sucks the humor (or, perhaps more accurately, "humor") out of my post title, but what the hell.

The other important thing to report today is that, on the way to the museum, we stopped off to get a beverage. That's not the important part, though. The important part is that my brother opted to get a Slurpee. I was at the soda fountain getting my own drink, and I saw him there staring at the Slurpee machine. He was contemplating getting a Slurpee that was flavored like Strawberry Twizzlers. I suggested he stick a finger under the spout and have a taste first. My suspicion was that it would taste exactly like Twizzlers, and that can get pretty cloying after the first couple of sips, methinks. He tried it and agreed, and settled on Coca-Cola flavor. The photo here is him enjoying the first taste of what turned out to be his first Slurpee in about 25 years. (Note, by the way, the minivan about to back into our car. I'd stopped the car in order to take the pic, and they started to back up before they realized we were still there.)

The other photo (to the right if I formatted this correctly) was taken in the parking lot of the museum, as he finished off the Slurpee. What he didn't realize until after the picture was taken was that those plants behind him are growing from the water in the harbor. A second later he looked down and said, "Whoa—the water's right there!" Good times, good times.

Room With A View

Stewie Griffin: [checking out a motel room with a blacklight] Let's see... Oatmeal! Spittle! Semen! This must be where Wilford Brimley was strangled by Bob Crane.

—Family Guy, "He's Too Sexy For His Fat" (6/27/00)

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Greetings from humid Florence, South Carolina, brought to you by the Free Wi-Fi they have at the Econo Lodge here. Here's the view from my room:

Come on down! The gasoline is cheap! And the speed limit is 70!

That $3.56/gallon you see isn't even what I paid for a tankful at another place down the road. I managed to pay $3.51 (and nine-tenths, of course).

The Continuity Fairies here might be asking, "Wait a minute! What's taking you so long to get down? Didn't you leave yesterday?" The answer is no, although I was supposed to. GF got subpoenaed to something (as a witness) in Annapolis, so I had to make sure that Wee One got off to Music Camp safely this morning. So I stuck around for an extra 24 hours. Anyway, I should be enjoying the Gulf Coast air sometime tomorrow afternoon.

So it's Riotous Good Fun on the road driving someone else's car (no cruise control, ecch), and listening to whatever strikes my fancy on the iPod. I picked up a gizmo that allows you to broadcast from the iPod to the radio via an unused frequency. Every once in awhile I have to switch frequencies (it's nearly impossible to use in the DC area), but I've had a lot of good luck with 91.1 FM. I especially like that it's powered by the iPod itself, which means no wires at all. It does eat the iPod's battery a bit, though, but I still got through the entire day and had roughly half an indicator left. So the iPod is charging up now and I'm listening to the Allman Brothers' "Whipping Post" at present, via Launchcast. ("Whipping Post" is one of my favorite live performances, EVER, by the way.) I'm really liking this iPod and sorry I didn't get it a million years ago. Now I'm all hot to go home and rip the rest of my CDs to my hard drive so I can get 'em all on the iPod.

Updated to correct the frequency on the wireless jobbie to 91.1. It stayed clear from about Richmond to Jacksonville, at which point I finally had to find a new frequency. Is it possible that a radio station doesn't want to be "911" on the dial?

The Downside to Checking Your Stats

Delenn: The rebirth ceremony was part of your training on Minbar.
Marcus Cole: I missed it. I overslept.
Delenn: It lasts all day!
Marcus Cole: Oh, yes. I was ill.

—Babylon 5, "Ceremonies of Light and Dark" (4/8/96)

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A few funky things that occur to me when I look at my stats:

• I feel bad when I see that someone came to the site while I was writing a post. I feel as though if I hadn't dawdled in my typing, they'd have gotten something fresh.
• Sometimes Yellojkt's attempt to poison my well actually works out; I'm on page 2 now. (UPDATE: I should warn you that this links to a NSFW Google search. Remember that Google saves all your searches, so if you click the link, you're automatically a pervert. Sorry, OM.)
• I still have to wonder about the numerous people who come here by Googling "Baltimore Diary" instead of just typing it into their address bar. I have the Baltimorediary.com domain, so you can come in that way, or through the Typepad address, baltimorediary.typepad.com. Convenience!
• I still get a lot of hits from people looking for information about Freda Sorce, the wife of Don Geronimo of the now-defunct "Don & Mike Show". She was killed in an auto accident on her way home from Ocean City. A lot of the searches include things like "accident photos". I don't have any of those, so I'm not sure why the searches lead here. I did write a reasonably nice, not-at-all prurient post. Go read that, ya ghouls.
• I don't get a huge number of hits on any given day (lifetime: about 26000 since November 2004, averaging about 20/day), but a nice chunk of them do come from people who were kind enough to add me to their blogrolls. So I thank you folks for that.

OK, that's it for now. I'm hitting the road. I will be posting from on the road (if the Internets are available) and from Florida. I know you're all waiting with bated breath. No, I didn't spell it wrong.

Road Trip Prep

Maya: So, how was Jamaica?
Dennis: Just like Florida, except everyone speaks English.

—Just Shoot Me, "The Withholder" (11/17/98)

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Today was one of those days where I did a lot of stuff and didn't feel like I'd accomplished much when I got to the end.

Yesterday I picked up the iPod I ordered from Circuit City. I got a 160 GB model, since I have over 2500 tracks ripped and thousands more yet to do. (This is what happens when you were once a mobile DJ.) Since I'm not too much into the bells 'n' whistles, I got a Classic model (6th generation, I believe), in black. Not that it matters, since they both have the chrome backside. Much like my Uncle Arthur, who got his ass shot off in Vietnam. Heh.

If you look carefully at my specific iPod, you'll notice that Marissa Miller's crotch is nowhere near it. What a gyp.

The iPod is pretty easy to use but it's not 100% intuitive. Some things you have to figure out, and the documentation that comes with the unit is rather thin. However, when you log into iTunes (which you need to have if you're gonna use this thing), the help files are pretty good.

So I got my music files organized in the iTunes software, then I had to move them over to the iPod. This took a little doing, since it's not obvious how it's done. In fact, once I thought I'd done it, I was a bit surprised to discover that there was nothing in the iPod and I had to try again.

In the meantime, I worked on getting laundry done. I did about six loads (hey, it adds up when there are two adults and a nine year old who likes to play dress-up; plus there was still some residual laundry from their road trip), and there's still one more to be done. Meanwhile GF is bounding back and forth between ironing some of the finished laundry and priming the walls in the upstairs hallway and the stairwell. Apparently there will be several rooms looking quite different when I get home.

So in the morning (it's 2:00 AM already? Ecch) I have to go to work and dismantle my computer so that I can set it up again...oh yeah, nowhere. Actually, I do have a place in mind but I'm not going to worry about it till I get back. Then it's back home and throw some clothes into a carry-on-size bag. Into the car and I have to buzz through Polock Johnny's to get a package of 20 Polish sausages for my brother the Recent Convert to the PJ's. Aaaand...it's off to the Sunshine State!

Where, naturally, my mother reports it's rained like hell for days.

Half the Battle

James St. Clair: Sir, don't you think all these deletion marks in the transcripts make it look as though you do nothing but swear?

--Nixon (1995)

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Today, for the last day of the Summer program, I had to go to a mediation session.

A couple of months back, I attended a meeting for a student. The bottom line of this (and, of course, helping to preserve the confidential end of things) is that the parents wanted Baltimore City Schools to pay for the student to go to a private school, BCPSS said that what they can offer is perfectly adequate. There was no argument whatsoever with the content of the educational plan itself--the goals, objectives, accommodations, everything was fine, except the placement.

When parents and schools can't come to a consensus on a student, either side can opt to go to court over it. This parent decided to take that route. So the first step was a mediation session, to take one more shot and see if we can get our acts together. Today was the mediation session for this student.

The student was represented by Wayne Steedman, with whom I've worked previously several years ago. The school system, of course, was represented by our own attorney and someone from the Office of Due Process. I was there and so was my boss.

We sat down and an administrative law judge explained everything that was going on. That this wasn't on-the-record type stuff, what the intent was, etc. etc. Then we all had to sign a form indicating that we wanted to mediate the case. Then the discussion began.

About two days ago, Wayne hit us with a list of generic criteria that the student was expected to meet. Along with those criteria were some specific details. For instance, I'm totally making this one up, but they were looking for something that looked like: "Johnny will reduce the number of times he hits his peers with a French Bread. [no more than 3 times]" What we couldn't figure out was where he got the "no more than 3 times" part from. Wayne told us that it came from the student's former teacher, and that it was based on information she'd collected.

Something about this didn't smell right to any of us and the discussion went around and around until finally I asked if he had this information from the school with him. He said he didn't. I was floored. This is such a hot topic for you and you didn't bring the documentation to back it up? I asked him, "Did you really not think it was important to have here?" Again he said no. At this point I couldn't help but laugh out loud at him.

That's when he lost his cool. He didn't appreciate my laughing at him, my scoffing, and then he did something which I think took everyone aback: he called me an asshole. In front of my coworkers, the parents, his other associate and the administrative law judge. What could I do? I kept laughing at him.

Wow! I knew I was pushing buttons, but that's got to be one of my better efforts. The judge immediately called for a break.

For once, I didn't get crap from my boss for being snotty to someone because the bottom line was, I managed to cut to the heart of his argument right there. He had nothing, he knew he had nothing and he was pissed because I was calling him out on it. When we re-convened, the judge even asked if he had any data anywhere to back up the standards he wanted to set (never mind that he didn't have it with him). He started to answer, "Well..." and didn't get farther than that word. The judge interrupted him and asked again if there was any data anywhere. At this point he had to say he didn't. I looked at my boss and raised my hands in the universal "There ya go" gesture.

Having said that, we got down to some serious points and we thought that we were actually going to get out of this with a satisfactory conclusion, but the fact is that Wayne was dragging his heels. We'd settle on one thing and he'd find something different that had a problem. This went back and forth and the judge asked for another short break. At this point we were all about out of patience with him and decided that we were going to take a stand.

I get the feeling that if it had been just us and the parents, we'd be done and everyone would be happy. Instead we got Wayne in there, trying to swing his dick in a huge arc because, I don't know. I was going to say that it was because I managed to get to him (and he refused to apologize when our attorney suggested it--way to be professional there, Wayne), but who really knows. The fact remains that we've got a pretty strong case and this kid's parents are wasting their money on this guy.

I can't really offer up a lot more detail than I already have, but let me say this: It's a pretty dark day when I'm the voice of reason.