Swing and a Miss

I spend the next 20 minutes grand standing like a seasoned litigator. I use my experience with Pat's situation, which we'd just dissected in extensive detail, to point out the myriad failings of their so-called system in the making.

The lost reports speak of the disorganization.
The botched attempts to intervene in the cafeteria and the science classroom indicate that they were inexperienced and bumbling.
The lack of information about the school's stance on Bullying tells me they had not taken one.
The focus on the administrivia and the idiotic poster were clear demonstrations that they choose to focus on the legal definitions and technical compliance as opposed to effectiveness.
The volume of complaints is empirical data proving the kids know the students have the upper hand. Anarchy at its best.

They let me argue my case to the end, and only then does anyone object. No, no, I have it all wrong. They really are committed and really do know what they are doing. They are the experts. Really they are.

I close my notebook, place it in my open briefcase, and stand. McDuff looks a little surprised and can't conceal his relief that I am going.

As I walk toward the back wall of the office like I own the place, I say, "Don't get too excited, I'm not leaving yet." I remove a push pin, take the ridiculous circus poster on Bullying from the wall and walk over to McDuff. I give him the poster to review as I stand over him just as a teacher would when reviewing a pupil's work. (Hum the Jeopardy theme now.)

"In the absence of anything comprehensive in your handbook, is this what you are using to cover the district's collective derriere legally?"

His head snaps up to look at me. I continue. "Because according to the statute I read last night, it doesn't meet state law requirements."

He says what he has to say. "Yes. Yes, it does, and so does the handbook."

I sit. I retrieve and reopen the notebook. "Your handbook, which I hold in my hand, in its definition of Bullying, uses the word "bullying." I look at the other Principal, who has been pretty quiet for a while now. I notice that she is taking pages upon pages of notes. I am pleased to see that. I want this written down. And repeated to someone. Someone who will do something about it.

I say, "As you know, I attended this school and right here in these classrooms I learned that you can not use the word you are defining in the definition of that word. Was that not right?"

No argument. I continue. "And the definition lists a litany of offenses that fall under the umbrella of cyber or electronic bullying, but nowhere in your definition does it mention physical aggression. The law says you need both. Has it suddenly become OK to clean someone's clock on the playground?"

"No, of course not," the Notetaker offers.

"OK, so let's not waste anymore time arguing that point, and agree that this, (and with this statement I wave the paper like an insolent teenager and make a little smartassed face) needs to be rewritten. At once." I see that she writes that down on her pad and am secretly grateful that I read upside down. I am tempted to joke "Please enter this document into the record as Exhibit A, Your Honor.")

"And by the way, it was not lost on my that your handbook devotes a mere 19 words to this topic while your dress code rambles on for two and a half pages of drivel about strappy tank tops and low rise pants."

"Now," I command as I snatch the poster from McDuff. His grace period for familiarizing himself with it has just expired. "Let's talk about this." And again, I am waving the poster like a smartass.

My audience is rapt.