Ernie 'Coach' Pantusso: What's your most troublesome problem?
Norm Peterson: Ah, that's tough to say, Coach. Let's see. I'm overweight, unemployed, separated, depressed, starting to drink too much. Guess my biggest problem is I've never been happier.
--Cheers, "Fortune and Men's Weight" (2/2/84)
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It's been awhile since I wrote anything about what's been going on with me and the school system. You've probably seen all the articles and the debates on Inside Ed, and frankly I don't feel as though I had a whole lot to add to the discussion, which was already more chaff than wheat. So I've been keeping quiet and doing my thing. But that doesn't mean that stuff hasn't been happening.
For the approximately 5,999,999,960 of you who are not in the know, my job in Baltimore City Schools is called "IEP Team Associate". This means that I schedule and chair the annual meetings for students with disabilities. I have a caseload at two different schools, plus on two days per week I have duties as the "Lead ITA", which means that I travel to other schools, offer technical assistance, do student observations (when "a fresh pair of eyes" is needed for a student), help the new ITAs learn their job, and so forth. Because my boss' job is being eliminated, that means that my job as Lead ITA is, as well. So I have that to deal with.
One of the changes that is taking place this year is that the ITA position is being "unlocked" for next year. Previously, ITAs were assigned by the folks at the Puzzle Palace, and principals got whomever they got and that was pretty much that. The other side of that coin was that Central Office was paying for the ITAs, not the school. This year, because the position is unlocked, principals are free to hire anyone to do the ITA job—or nobody at all. One of my two schools has decided to eliminate the position. Now, dealing with that team is like getting cats to march in a parade, so I wish them luck. How they're going to handle the IEP process is a complete mystery to me.
The other school? Well, that's a little weird. When they got word that I was going to finish my Administrative certification this semester, they were interested in making me the Assistant Principal, and also letting me handle the ITA duties. (It's not a big caseload so that's not too awful.) Then that seemed to go by the wayside, so I started making an argument for making my position a full-time one: eliminate the assistant who I currently have (she's quitting after this year anyway, so it really means not hiring anyone to replace her), add some extra duties such as assessments, discipline, data entry, inclusion checklists and such, and it's totally worth this school's while, especially since we'll be getting some students from one of the schools that's closing. So I spoke to the principal last week about What's To Be Done With Yours Truly, and she told me that they're going to expand the position from one day to two-and-a-half.
Fabulous. So in addition to not having a job for the summer, I'm only a part-timer next year. Guess I need to polish up the old resume.
As it happened, the school system was holding a Job Fair this past Saturday. Now, since a lot of people's positions are being eliminated because of budget cuts, they naturally wanted this event to be as inexpensive as possible, so they held it at the Marriott Renaissance Hotel down by the Inner Harbor. This is a place where the ROOMS start at the bargain basement price of $299 per night, so holding the job fair in this place should cost next to nothing, right?
Come on, really? They couldn't use one of the larger high school campuses (say, over at Lake Clifton, or Poly), where the only expenses would be the coffee service and paying custodians for the day? Oh, and the parking would be free for the people WHO DON'T HAVE JOBS ANYMORE. My parking cost $25 for the day, and the only consolation I have is that I can deduct it next year as a job searching cost.
So I, and several hundred others, sign in for the day and we then go into a meeting room, which incidentally doesn't have enough chairs, judging by all the people standing to the back and sides of the room. We're given a warm welcome by the head of HR, who tries to reassure us that we're in this boat not because we weren't any good at what we do, but It's the Economy, Stupid. (She didn't specifically say that—she really did try to take some of the edge off of it, but that was the basic message, and sometimes you don't really need to hear it because when it's you, it doesn't much help, you know?) She also pointed out that the charts that we were given which outlined what schools had vacancies in what positions were inaccurate, inasmuch as they weren't comprehensive, because not all of the schools registered in advance for the fair. So there were actually MORE jobs available than what was listed there. For what it's worth, the ITA position didn't appear at all on the chart, so I was going to be wandering about in the dark anyway. Neither were custodians listed on the chart, and I recognized a few of them walking about.
Here's the part that HR wasn't telling us: most principals submitted their first budget draft this week. None of them had gotten back the budget approval. So very few people could give solid offers of jobs that day. To be fair, HR may not have known that part.
After the pep talk, we were set free to walk among the tables and visit with the principals or whatever other school reps they had. The schools had signs up with their names, school number and what positions they had available. Some schools really tried to make themselves attractive; others just about showed up. A few schools, which I know for a fact will have vacancies next year, didn't attend at all even though the folks at the Puzzle Palace strongly recommended to principals that they send a representative even if they don't anticipate a vacancy. So there were about as many unoccupied tables as occupied ones.
My strategy was to hit the schools that I knew stood a good chance of having a vacancy next year, depending on what I'd heard through the grapevine. For the most part, my instincts were correct, and I got to speak to a few principals and leave my resume. Most of the people I ran into there were rather surprised to see me at all, thinking that I was pretty much sewn up for next year. I told them that it was kind of like the Hot Chick Who Doesn't Get Invited To The Prom.
On a lark, I took a peek in the room where the high schools were recruiting. Most of them didn't indicate that they were looking for an ITA, but one school posted that they wanted a Special Ed Department Chair. Hm. I took a seat at that table and talked to them. The Chair would essentially be the ITA. It would be a very busy position, based on the few minutes I spent with them, but they'd had so much Consent Decree-related problems last year that they figured they needed someone really good in that position. I let them know that hey, that could be me—Lead ITA and all, you know? They weren't going to do any interviews that day for the Special Education stuff but they'd call me during the week. Good enough.
Another high school I talked to, I didn't really intend to but I got interested in the materials they'd hung behind their table and the poster they had propped up on the table. I got to talking with one of them, then two of them. They had a very interesting program and a cool philosophy toward education (they're a charter school). They told me that the ITA was currently a one-day-per-week position but they wanted to expand it to two-and-a-half days. Hey, says I, that would dovetail nicely with my other 2 ½ days, wouldn't it? They told me that they wanted me to speak to a couple of other director types and could they have my cell number? I gave it to them and they promised to call within fifteen minutes.
When I came back into the main floor, I met up with a friend of mine who was also there looking for a job. In her case, the school she was working for was taking her full-time position and cutting it back to three days per week. Her attitude was that she'd put so much effort into the school (and she did!) that if they were going to tell her the day before the Job Fair—which they'd expected her to attend as a representative of the school—about this change, well then they could just take the job and shove it. I didn't blame her a bit for that. She needed a ride home and I offered to take her, since we were both pretty much done and apparently not going to interview with anyone that afternoon, but could she wait a few minutes? I'm supposed to hear from this school that wants me to talk to someone, and they said they'd call in 15 minutes. Sure, she said, and we went into the bar on the same floor, where we got some adult beverages.
During the conversation, it turns out that this charter school that was so hot to interview me in fifteen minutes is the SAME school that my friend is quitting. I'm about to interview for HER job. But did you catch the other detail in there? They had a full-timer who they were cutting back to three days. They told ME that it was a one-day position that they were EXPANDING to 2 ½ days. So they basically lied to me about the job. A lie, my friend, is a very poor way to say "hello," even if you hadn't gotten caught.
Fifteen minutes go by, then thirty. I give up and say, "Let's get out of here." We sign out for the day and walk across the street to Harborplace to get some lunch. By now it was about noon, so we had to wait maybe twenty minutes for a table. We were nearly finished with our meals when my phone rang. I held it up so she could see the caller ID display. "That's them," she said. "The hell with it," I said. "When they said 'fifteen minutes', I expected fifteen minutes IN A ROW." Twenty minutes, a half hour, even 45 minutes I could see. But we're looking at almost two hours later by this point.
So here's a moral for the people who are recruiting staff at these events: don't think everyone in that room is so desperate to get work that you can treat them poorly. Some of us are quite good at what we do and are simply seeking out the options.
Here's another: People in the City Schools System have big mouths. Gossip is a hobby for nearly everyone in the system. If you tell a lie, it won't be long before you'll be caught.
Here's another one, for the folks at the Puzzle Palace: Don't cite the budgets as a reason for cutting people loose and then set up the job fair in a place that has to cost thousands of dollars to use. All of the participants are already City Schools employees. You don't have to impress us anymore because, frankly, you can't.
See you at Job Fair II, on May 27th.
MADRID - A Spanish great-grandmother who described herself as the world's oldest blogger — and became a Web sensation as she mused on events current and past — has died at the age of 97.
