He looked at her as if she were insane. “Who would be crazy enough to offer me a job?”
Now that was a stupid question. “I would.”
He shook his hand, grimacing in pain. “I can’t take a job from you.”
Releasing him, she slid one arm round his waist, leading him back to the sink. “Why not?”
“Come on, how would it look?”
She filled a bowl with ice water and dunked his hand. “I don’t care how it looks.” She watched him, decided to tell him all of it. “There’s something I need your help with.” Seeing she had caught his interest, she smiled. “Come here and sit down, while I fix dinner.” Keeping hold of his wrist with her small, competent hand, she put a bowl of icewater in his arms and led him to the table. “Can I trust you not to bolt for the door while I tell you about it?”
He said she could.
She held up an oven mitt. “Now, see this?” she said, head tilted to the side, voice lilting. “This is for hot pans.”
“Yeah, yeah, are you going to tell me about this job?”
This was going to be fun. “It’s a tough one. The first year teacher quit. In the last three weeks they’ve had ten different subs. The longest any of them has stayed is two days. I’m not kidding, it’s that bad.”
He frowned. “Teaching what?”
“Ninth grade, basic math and English at Hiawatha. It’s just a long-term sub position, but I can get you a long-term contract that’ll pay as much as your old job right from the first day if you can start tomorrow. They pride themselves on driving subs away, now, I hear.”
He began to smile slowly. “Do they now.”
“It will be no bed of roses.” She had him, she knew, but trying to look serious, she asked anyway. “So, you want it or not?”
“Can I go in there and kick some ass?”
“Be my guest—that is most assuredly the idea.” She thought a moment, held up a hand. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”
He smiled at her joke. “Of course. Now what’s this help you needed?”
• • •
Still as stone he listened, stunned by the audacity of it.
It was the most incredible, fantastic, wonderful idea he’d ever heard. So elegant, so brash, so suicidal, so iconoclastic, it scared hell out of him. A rebellion, a fantasy, a political Krakatoa, and here, wrapped in chenille before him, was the one woman who could make it happen. He said a silent prayer she’d go through with it.
“Forget it,” he said.
She set her jaw. And what a wonderful jaw it was. “No.”
“I’m telling you, it’s nuts.”
She smiled serenely. “I’m doing it.”
He told her she was a fool.
He begged her to see reason.
He warned her it would send her career down the sewer.
He did all he could to discourage her, and in the end it was like spitting at a glacier.
Talked out, he watched her hands as she worked. Small and plain as a child’s, they flew about like flickers as she placidly sliced mushrooms with a butcher knife. First cutting each in half— then placing them in orderly rows, cut edges down on the board. Only when she had them all queued did she dice them. This—precisely this—was what he loved about her—that she could suggest something so brash, so noble, then slice mushrooms with such scientific urbanity as he berated her for suggesting it.
She smiled at him, combing hair out of her face with a thumb.
“Are you done being pessimistic?”
“It’s called realism.”
“Whatever it’s called you can save your breath.”
“If I won’t help you?” This was his last retort—he hoped to God it would fail.
She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it anyway.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I could try.” She looked up stubbornly, knife in mid-air. “Listen closely, now—I’m doing this.”
He nodded, convinced. “Okay, then why are you doing it?”
She returned his hard gaze with one of her own. “I’m doing it for the kids that look up to us like we must know what the hell it is we’re doing. They don’t know that things are the way they are because nobody wants to rock the boat. The poor little fools really think we believe this is the best way to run a school. I know because I was one of them.”
Disappointed, he shook his head. “Wrong answer.”
She sighed, annoyed. “Okay, that’s not all of it. For me—I’m doing it for me. Is that a good enough reason?”
He smiled. It was more than good enough. She was strong, but was she strong enough? “It won’t work, you know. It’ll be an ugly, bitter, dirty fight. And one you’ll lose.”
Eyes bright, she smiled. “I don’t care.”
His stomach felt as if he’d bolted a tumbler of whiskey. “They’ll do to you what they did to me—you know that.”
She slammed the knife down on the counter. “Damn it, you’re not usually so dense! I thought you would understand if anybody would. What good is having the job if I want to keep it so much I’m afraid to do what’s right?” She picked up the knife. “Putting in your time, making your next career move, covering your ass—is that all this is about?”
Doggedly, he kept on, having to be absolutely sure. “Your career…”
“My career will be just fine. If I end up back in the classroom, would that be so bad?” He opened his mouth and she cut him off— knife slashing the air with such vehemence her hair whipped about her face. “No! I see it now!” She came to lay their plates on the table before him. “We all start out so idealistic, so gullible! I mean, we actually believe all that rubbish about burnt-out teachers being the cause of all that’s wrong with schools. Can you imagine?”
He watched her as she ranted, rushing about in the kitchen, robe fluttering open across her thigh as she went. Impassioned, she was magnificent.
She brought a bottle of wine to sit across the table. “It’s a little odd no one ever asks how they got that way, isn’t it?” Peering at him, she frowned, crestfallen. “You really don’t like the idea?”
“It scares me, it’s so good. I’d give my eye teeth to see you make it happen.”
She bit her lip, drawing the neck of her robe closed with her fingers. “Really?” she said, voice a thrilled whisper. “You really think so?”
He nodded slowly. “I really think so.”
She watched him closely, eyes wary. “You don’t think I’m a fool to try?”
“I think you’re the gutsiest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t know what in hades you see in me, but I’ll help you any way I can.”
Her breath caught, and she went to rattle around in the fridge for Parmesan.
O’Connel struggled to wrap noodles left handed, but they kept squirming off his fork. He glanced up to find her hiding a smile behind a hand and set it down in frustration. “First I’m out of work, now I’m an invalid—terrific.”
“Oh, don’t be a clunk.” He watched helplessly as she cut up his noodles, dusting them with cheese.
“There, now try.” He found he could eat, if clumsily. “Thanks, Mae.”
She made a face. “When I was a teacher I saw the contempt most felt for administration, and I swore when I got my chance it would be different. But once I got there, something happened. I started seeing the teachers as the enemy. I don’t know if it was the money, the title, or what, but somehow the job got to be what was important. You made me see that.”
He watched her, liking who he saw. “I’m with you, and I know a lot of other people who would be too—if I can get them to believe it’s really happening. If you’ll get me the district phone book, I’ve got some calls to make.”
For the next few weeks, life at Silver Mountain Unified would be anything but routine.
• • •
In a fowl mood, O’Connel paced atop the low stone wall skirting the parking lot. He hated waiting—even more he hated waiting for bad news.
Skinner
Butte Park looked out over the city of Eugene as a medieval castle oversaw its village. Over two embattled months they had met here for lunch. Today, a high overcast blocked out the sun, and a frigid wind rocked him on his heels as it whipped through the fir on the butte. He glanced at his watch. It was after four. Light was fading. It would be dark soon.
He stamped his feet to keep warm, wishing she would come.
Through his leather jacket the gusts chilled him. He nudged a loose piece of gravel off the wall with his sneaker, and watched it fall into the salal far below.
A meandering V of Canada geese honked and squeaked overhead, barely making headway against a stiff wind. As he watched, a different bird slipped into point soon to be replaced by another. He thought of them flying thousands of miles by starlight and smiled. Tonight while he slept they would fly. Tomorrow he would be out of another job—still they would fly. He watched them, reassured. The world would keep up its spinning.
Her car wound around the road to the lot, and he went to meet her.
Squinting into the cold wind, she smiled wanly. “Hey.”
Disappointed, he saw there would be no surprises—the ride was over. He answered quietly, feeling a drawing at his heart, wanting to hold her. “Hey.”
She nodded down the hill. “Let’s walk.”
He followed her down the winding path in the frigid dusk to the river. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Sorry I’m late, I stopped to get a paper.”
“So? What happened?” She handed it to him.
“What’s this, you’re in here?” He opened it to the front page and saw her picture.
Over a month old, the photo was taken in front of the district office at the first board meeting just after things got hot. The camera had caught her in the middle of a passionate word, looking more beautiful than a superintendent had any right to be. No wonder they hated her.
He read the headline— “‘EMBATTLED SCHOOL DISTRICT OUSTS SUPERINTENDENT.’” Suddenly filled with disgust, he folded the paper, hurling it into a trash basket along the path. “They can all go to hell.”
Glaring, she retrieved it, held it out. “Read it.”
“Why? I can tell you what it says.” Stubborn as always, she held it closer.
He took it. “I don’t want to read this crap. We’re both out of a job, what more do I need to know?” She stopped on the path, waiting, hands jammed in the pockets of her sweater.
He reached to roll her collar up around her neck. “It’s too cold for this, I’ll bet the wind cuts right through it. Want my jacket?”
She watched him. “Just read it.”
There was no use arguing when she’d made up her mind—that he’d learned. “Okay, okay, At a special executive session this morning, the Silver Mountain board voted to replace Superintendent Gonsalvas with long-time curriculum director Brenda Lovejoy.’ Oh, man.” He slapped the paper against his leg. “I should have known when you sent her back to the classroom, she’d get even. People like her are harder to get rid of than the mange.” He didn’t want to read any more. He wanted to take her home, cuddle in front of the wood stove, lie with her in the bone-warming heat.
She looked at him expectantly, eyes bright in the cold.
“Okay, I’m reading. ‘During her short tenure as district head, Ms. Gonsalvas has expelled more than a dozen students without due process.’” This was making his stomach ache. “Due process meaning do nothing. Odd they don’t say why you expelled them? Not germane, I guess, huh?
“‘Ms. Gonsalvas has implemented policies requiring stringent dress codes, cutting off district Internet access, upgrading academic requirements for participation in sports, and placing an emphasis on phonics in the primary grades. Also included in her administration’s policies were a rollback of district implementation of 21st Century Schools programs in favor of a return to an emphasis of the three R’s.
“‘Despite first quarter Oregon State Assessment test scores up district wide more than ten percentage points from last year.’”
He looked up. “You’d think they might mention it was the first increase in ten years. ‘The district has been named in over a dozen lawsuits brought by dissatisfied parents. In addition, Silver Mountain has been the subject of an investigation by the state and federal Departments of Education for non-compliance.’ Sure they’re after you—you committed one of the deadly sins—you made them look unnecessary. They can forgive anything but that.
“‘The ousted superintendent’s policies, having resulted in a poor showing by the district in sports, are unpopular with many alumni and parents. One alumnus at Tuesday’s meeting said ticket sales had fallen by half, and for the first time in twenty years the basketball league championship was awarded to another district. We had the talent to win, and there they were in the stands instead of on the court where they belonged,” said Ray Wagner, father of last year’s Elk River junior varsity center. “What kind of school punishes kids by taking away sports just because they’re not straight A students?”
“‘The year began with a threat by the Oregon Education Association to strike when Gonsalvas reassigned more than a hundred district employees to the classroom, reducing average class size to less than 12. In order to implement these changes, a radical rescheduling was put into effect, which included a shortening of the school day for most students. This was instituted without seeking waivers from the Oregon State Department of Education. While some parents approved of her policies, many more found the drastic changes unsettling.
“When asked to comment on her ouster, Gonsalvas said the results of her tenure were there for all to see.
“This quarter,” said Gonsalvas, “violence is down 90 percent, test scores are up between eight and twelve, class size is half of what it was. Schools are safe, kids are learning, sports have been given the subservient role they deserve. Kids who stop others from learning are sent home. Evidently, that wasn’t what the board wanted.’”
He smiled up at her. “So that’s what you were practicing this morning in the shower. “‘Replacing the relatively inexperienced Gonsalvas with Lovejoy, a thirty-year district veteran, will restore stability to the district,” said Linda Noble, one board member who cast her vote for cancellation of the superintendent’s contract.
“Experience,” said Noble, “makes all the difference in a job like this. Irregardless of good intentions, Ms. Gonsalvas set her policies without consulting the school board, and, though her intentions may have been good, we feel she went way too far to extremes.’”
He laughed. “Oh yeah, way too far. ‘When asked to comment about her goals for Silver Mountain, Lovejoy said her highest priority would be to return the district to compliance with the law.
“Our parents,” Lovejoy said, “can be confident the district will return to putting children first. Starting tomorrow morning our schools will be back to normal. We’ll be back in compliance by the end of the week, all expelled students will be reinstated, and the district will resolve pending suits without need for further litigation. Bla, bla, bla.”
More weary than he could say, he folded the paper neatly and tossed it into the first can they passed. “Garbage.”
With no more to say, they headed back to the top. Twilight had fallen, and with it a mist leaving the lights of the city below hazy.
“Well, that’s it, isn’t it?”
She matched pace beside him, head down. “Yeah, guess so.”
A pair of skaters rounded the corner, and they moved off the path to let them pass.
“Well, at least you tried.”
She smiled, eyes bleak. “How long did you say I’d last, two months? Pretty close.”
“I’m not happy about it, but you know what?” He reached out, put his hand into her pocket to press hers. “You did it, you fought them all, and I’m proud of you.”
She made a face as they topped the grade. “For what, nine weeks?” He led her to the low wall, turning her to face the city below, arms about her from beh
ind. “You see that? You made a change down there. For one quarter, schools in that city had consequences.
“For one quarter, you gave the paper pushers grade books and we had twelve to a class. For one quarter, a D average wouldn’t make you a football star, primary kids were taught phonics, middle school kids were taught to spell and to write. For one short quarter, kids who did nothing failed, and all Mama’s screaming didn’t change it.”
She tried to pull away, but he pulled her back. “Look down there. For two months teachers set standards, kids got homework every night, and kids over eighteen who fail every class they take were asked to go play somewhere else. The brightest weren’t expected to tutor; they were expected to learn. Violence, disrespect, laziness weren’t tolerated. You did that. Right down there. What if it was only eight weeks? Without you it wouldn’t have happened at all.”
She looked at him, unconvinced. “So, hurrah for me. Now it’s over, and what have the kids learned—that I was lying after all? That the ones who believed me and tried to do well were the fools?” There was pain in her eyes. “I hate the thought of that.”
“They just got a lesson in life, that’s all. They learned what happens to people who won’t give in, won’t compromise. That’s learning, too. No, nobody will think you were lying. Whether they were for you or against you, they knew you meant what you said. They learned that there was one administrator who really meant it, who refused to cave. At least they learned that much.”
She smiled a sad smile. “Yeah.” She took a last look over the city below, and went to her car. “Get in.”
• • •
She drove south.
“Where are we going?”
Her eyes smiled. “You’ll see.” They bounced over the tracks on Lincoln Avenue.
“My car’s back there, you know.”
“Relax, enjoy the ride.” She turned into a street of older homes, and pulled up in front of a large two-story craftsman with a ten pitch gable roof. A for sale sign leaned precariously in the wind.
“Why are we here?” She got out, gave him a cagey smile. “Let’s look.” She led him around the outside.
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