Desert Diva

We had a “little drama” today at our office. We seem to be the orphaned stepchildren of our school district since we are a small department and space is limited. Our previous office was at one of the elementary schools - until they wanted the space for a new computer lab. We were moved into a “portable” building” at the Education Service Center and shared a “field” with several other “portables” that comprised the Alternative School. From time-to-time, there were other portables being utilized for offices and/or storage. However, our office is the only occupied “portable” now.

There was an old (but lovely) vacant school on the site. A couple of years ago, the building was leased to form a charter school for the arts. It seems now that the charter school wishes that our office wasn’t there - especially right beside the basketball court. Therein the problem lies.

We have to park somewhere. Last year there was a rash of automobiles being broken into that were parked on the street. Therefore, we choose to park “inside” the fence and near our portable for two reasons. We don’t want our cars broken into, and part of our job is to transport Assistive Technology equipment to various schools, etc…

Yesterday, a “representative” from the charter school came outside and told my co-worker L that we couldn’t park where we were anymore and the school wouldn’t be responsible if our cars were damaged or broken into by the students. As L tried to explain our situation, the “representative” threw up his hands saying “I don’t want to argue” and walked away. In this instance “I don’t want to argue” translated to “I don’t care, just do as I say” because he apparently called the director of the Education Service Center who paid us a personal visit this morning. As he was walking up to the portable, L was unloading a specially configured speech computer from her car.

L and the director moved inside and I became part of the fray. Outside, I guess L was told she would comply or the director would “move up the chain” and talk to her (our) coordinator. I guess situations like this don’t bother me as much as they once did since I’m used to school politics. The director told us we were “lucky” to have the office space. Gee, maybe we’ll be in a tent next… However, L had a “meltdown” and said “I don’t know why I’m always getting in trouble - I just want to be able to do my job” and burst into tears. She’s right…

• We work out of a portable building because there was no place to put our office - we’re small in number but have a ton of equipment.
• We don’t have running water and go on runs to the water store to fill our dispenser.
• We had to wait a couple of weeks or so to get a key to a bathroom. We have to walk across a huge field in the rain, sun, or wind.
• We could have had a nice “indoor” office on the same grounds. However, one of the coordinators grandstanded for, requested the facility for her once a month meeting. The remainder of the time it is empty.
• Many times we have to defend, explain our professional reasoning in terms of our evaluations and recommendations of equipment to angry, irate, questioning parents and educational staff who berate, threaten, challenge us when they don’t get what they want, don’t feel that we are adequately addressing student needs.
• We interact daily with students that have monumental disabilities and sometimes short lifespans. Sometimes it’s difficult to separate the personal and the professional.
• We’re been referred to, spoken kindly of, tattled on after meetings by some administrators who have actually thanked us face-to-face and then called our supervisor. L made a comment to a parent once in a meeting that he knew quite a bit about school law and she would want him to represent her (if she were the child). Later we were both counseled, talked to, reamed out as a result of a simple comment.
• I still don’t have a “corrected contract.” I got a new version last week and it’s still incorrect.

We are all dedicated to what we do and feel that we are making a difference in the life of a student. So, we’ve moved our cars and are playing nice. Since L was having a bad day I took her to lunch at El Sombrero for chicken tacos. What else can we do?

Note: I’ve determined the above to be “dooce” free. Everything is true and I feel better for saying it honestly. An occasional glass of Pinot Noir does seem to help with the stress of day-to-day experiences…

Gee, how was YOUR day?

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