Monday Morning Quarterback

The next morning, feeling blue but with a mission, I made myself fabulous and left Scott's house in the pitch black and fog to trek through blueberry country to work. It's a long drive and I was stuck with just myself for company. And I was really crappy company.

I called Scott. He was already at work but had a few moments to give me a pep talk. Do my homework, give Pat advice he can use. Compel the school to follow through.

I got to work and immersed myself in the calamities du jour. A badging system on the fritz. A licensed professional without verifiable credentials. A hiring manager with a bone to pick. Nothing I couldn't handle simply falling out of bed, but enough to draw my attention from Pat.

At least momentarily.

Lars and his familiar "Highway to Hell" ringtone disturbed the relative peace shortly after 9.
He was practically frothing he was so pissed.

And for the next 15 minutes I listened to several hundred half statements and expletives and "ya know-s" and "I mean, come on-s" and cobbled together the story he struggled to tell. (Perhaps attempting to make a coherent point with a Percocet hangover is ill advised. Just a thought.)

What I eventually gathered, and then confirmed with a "let me make sure I have this straight" regurgitation of what I thought I'd heard emerge from the babbling was:

Pat had returned to class following the meeting in which he'd filed the detailed complaint.
At lunch, he found the same kids to be seated at his table, and the kid who punched him called him out for squealing. And the other kids taunted him.
Pat attempted to find another lunch table but in the absence of any available seats, was forced to return to his original table and subject himself to more abuse.
Science class two periods later was only marginally better. The kid who had hit him was removed from the lab table but the other two remained behind to harass him.

Part B was that Lars had again gone to the school again and challenged the "disciplinarian" on his incompetent handling of the situation. He was told:

They'd told all 3 kids to separate at lunch and Oh My God they hadn't listened. Imagine that.
The science teacher had not removed all three kids from the lab table because that would single out Pat. Lars had suggested that Pat be moved and the three little SOBs could work toward expulsion together.
They weren't sure how Kevin found out about Pat's report. It's a mystery. They had not called his parents because there had been no witnesses. (I'm sorry, I thought this was middle school disciplinary situation, not the OJ Simpson murder trial.)

So in essence, the Keystone Cops ran around in little circles and bumped in to each other for a while and got nothing of value accomplished.

And this is where Lars being an asshole is really very handy. He poked the bear over and over again and eventually provoked the disciplinarian to the point where he jumped up and suggested that he call the police to handle the situation. It must have been hilarious, but just then I couldn't see it that way.

Lars had not been convinced that Pat was safe at school and told the principal and disciplinarian that he was taking him home. Nothing says "You've failed as a school administrator" louder than that.

So I had little more to worry about for the moment. Pat was not going to have cling peaches thrown on him in the cafeteria or have his backpack set ablaze with the Bunsen burner in science.

But I was worried. Worried that he and Hil were coming back to me in a day or so, and that in the absence of some message to the school, if there were trouble next week, we'd be starting at the line of scrimmage with a new quarterback, and they'd be trying to split Lars and which is admittedly easy to do. I had to let them know I was up to speed and could not be easily patronized.

I took to my e-mail account and began composing. Time to introduce the Middle School Administration to "The Closer."