I thought I had recounted this before, but I
cannot find it anywhere on either blog; apologies if the story of how I came to
leave Hancock High School and the School District of Hancock Place is a repeat.
Incidentally, this is not the end of the HP-HP blog, just another random story
generated by a news hook.
An
article in the newspaper (yes, this dino still reads one) talks about how about
2/3 of Missouri schools offer no AP or ACP classes to their students.
There are
many pride points to my career, but one of the most important is the role I
played in starting Hancock High School’s AP program (and, prior to that, its
Advanced Credit Program, years earlier, as well as distance learning through
the Junior College District). For my second year of retirement I proposed
starting AP-US History (APUSH) at the high school. This earned support from
both the district and building administration, so I headed up to Illinois
Wesleyan for a summer institute on teaching APUSH and began developing the
course.
It was a
success and, like any franchiser, I began planning expansion. I proposed
bringing a new teacher on board as a trainee for the future. I was, after all,
at least officially retired, albeit teaching two college level classes, Pysch
10 through UMSL, as well as APUSH, and I didn’t want the AP program to wither
away or be passed on to someone not ready or able to continue it at a high
level once I finally decided to put
away my chalk, retire my
dry-erase markers, walk away from my smartboard, although I admit I didn’t
anticipate leaving the Place for at least another year or two.
Little
did I realize at the time I had planted the seeds of the demise of my career at
Hancock; I just thought I was being proactive in building a strong program.
I’ve always been a little naïve. However, Dr. Ed Stewart, who told me I could
work at Hancock for as long as he was superintendent, retired and an outsider
came in. He (apparently, I learned later) wanted to dump me his first year but
was convinced, grudgingly, to keep me on for the additional year (with a 25%
pay cut). I took my mentee/successor up to Northwestern with me for another AP
institute; we talked about vertical integration to the middle school, other
courses we could add to the curriculum, etc.
My
mentee, as it turned out, knew my days were numbered long before I did, but had
been sworn to awkward silence and secrecy, forced to wordlessly watch as I
dangled, investing time in doomed proposals to a principal (Jeff Buscher) who,
while acting as though he was my advocate and friend, had, unbeknownst to me,
already not just thrown me under the bus, but chained my feet to the pavement.
Had I known of his betrayal, I would have pursued a different strategy in my
futile attempt to stay on. However, to be fair, which is more than I can say
for him, I doubt anything would have mattered. The
new super’s mind was made up.
In any
case, I went out in, if not a blaze of glory, at least incendiary
indignation, with a speech to the Board of Education, which, not surprisingly,
backed the superintendent, buying his lie of “I have people who can do what you
do [and don't let door hit you in the butt on your way out]” (Hancock still
doesn’t offer Intro to Psych, the closest thing to a universal graduation
requirement elective out there, or even AP Psych), plus a district-wide
“farewell (e)ulogy” (the closest I can get to an FU) letter. I still have a
copy. That superintendent? Long gone and unlamented, as near as I can tell.
And that
was that. My 37 years at the place were over, before I was ready, my
institutional memory and contributions discarded like detritus from the old
building. However, please do not assume that I continue to harbor any
bitterness or resentment, although I confess that was a process, not an
immediate reaction; rest assured that not only am I at peace, but grateful,
living a life that “is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.”
Because
after a year off, spending priceless hours and days with my newly born granddaughter,
I found the perfect landing spot for my career with the four incredible years I
spent at Solomon Schechter Day/Saul Mirowitz Jewish Community School. I became
fulfilled again, learned a ton, met many wonderful people, taught a bunch of
great kids, and made lifelong friendships. And, thanks to the lessons I learned
during my first (and subsequent) Yom Kippur(s), and long before Frozen, I was able to “Let It Go.”
When I retired again, it was on my terms and my timetable, because it was time
and I was ready. So it turns out that the lack of loyalty was actually a
blessing, one for which I will be eternally grateful, as I will also always be
for my 37 years at the Place.
