(Profound apologies to Mr. Dickens)
photo credit: www.thegeminiweb.com
Early one morning, Founder Scrooge jerked awake from a bad dream to find a spirited parent hovering over his bedchamber. “What are you?” he cried. “Are you a disembodied auditor—a helicopter parent—a blot of stale mustard from the last board meeting? Speak foul spirit!”
The hovering spirit took Founder by the hand and transported him across time and place to the first year of the charter school. As they floated through unfinished classrooms crowded with eager faces, the spirit passed a small team of office staffers frantically solving problems and responding to emergencies. Founder saw himself among them, shouting, “I don’t care how, just make sure to get every student in a classroom!” “I don’t care if she’s certified—does she love kids? Does she understand the subject…then hire her!” “I don’t know if we have enough; I’ll make a spreadsheet this weekend and we can figure out the balance on Monday.” Through all the halls, there wasn’t a reporter, auditor, or state official to be found—but everywhere he looked, Founder saw fresh-faced parents, optimistic staff, and a shimmering spirit of cooperation. He saw himself lending a hand, carrying used furniture, working late and liking it.
“Tell me spirit, what happened to our joy? Where have these happy parents and joyful students gone?”
By reply the spirit touched him on the sleeve and drew him out into the night.
Scrooge awoke—or was he still dreaming?—to the sounds of hurried slurping and bitter laughter. He didn’t recognize the room, but some of the faces were familiar—though worn and hard with effort. “How are we supposed to track every student?” “I can’t believe they want more reports and we have less time to do them!” “It’s not as if they’ve ever seen the classroom; they just tell us what to do anyway.”
“What is this place?” cried the Founder. And a bulky arm came from behind him to point across the room at a printed sign, “Staff Lounge Only | No Students Allowed | No Exceptions.”
Startled, the Founder turned to see a giant spirit dressed in academic robes carrying a massive binder.
“This is the teacher’s lounge at lunch. They gather every day to solve the school’s problems and reminisce about the good old days.”
“But why are they so bitter? Is there no salary; do they have no job security?”
And from the table echoed a voice, “At least we have jobs—for what that’s worth.” And every teacher grabbed a binder, just like the Spirit’s and headed out the door.
The Founder pleaded, “Spirit, how can this be? I worked beside these teachers; we built this school by our smarts and sacrifice. How can they be so sad?”
Silently, the spirit placed his binder in Scrooge’s hands and turned soundlessly away.
The Founder gasped and dropped to his knees, stunned by the weight of the book. He lifted the cover and read the contents: 1. Policies; 2. Procedures; 3. Reporting; 4. Training; 5. CSAPS; 6. Budgeting; 7… He dropped the book in despair.
“Spirit, what is this monstrosity that burdens our teachers? Why do they carry it about?” “What about philosophy and students and esprit de corps?”
The Spirit sighed, “All those have faded away. This book of rules is on every desk, at every meeting and on the minds of all the staff.” “They have no room or time for purpose or people.”
“Who did this, spirit? Who let this happen?”
With his massive fingers the Spirit opened the cover and Scrooge read there,
“Edited by Founder Scrooge and the Board of Directors”
“Nooooo!” cried the Founder as he sank into darkness.
He gradually saw a shaft of light piercing through a cluttered warehouse. Stacks of desks and chairs stood on pallets and carts. Workers were wrapping up bins of textbooks and carting off computers and bookshelves. A mover left his cart and walked up to Scrooge. Lifting him to his feet, the Spirit of Charters Future flew Scrooge through barren walls and empty halls to a platform in the front parking lot. From a portable speaker rolled the punctuated cadence of an auctioneer’s chant. “Student desks in lots of 20.” “What am I bid for these excellent desks—only used two years.”
“Spirit, what is the meaning of this? Why are they selling the desks? How can the school run with no equipment?”
The Spirit pointed to the front doors of the school, where thick loops of chains secured the front doors, and a pink notice of foreclosure flapped in the summer’s breeze.
“Closed? Closed? How can the school be closed? What about the teachers? What about the wait list?
“Spirit, how did this happen? What can be done?”
Down a long narrow corridor the Spirit drew Scrooge to a simply meeting room. A lawyer, a reporter, two accountants, and three state officials were finishing a meeting. “I guess we saw it coming.” You could see they lost their focus.” “Once the students started leaving it didn’t take long.”
Founder sank to his knees and breathed a plea, “Spirit of Charters Future—must these things come to pass? Is there nothing we can do?” “Is there nothing we can do…?”
Founder Scrooge woke with a start to realize he was sleeping in the parking lot. Athletes were working out on the track and teachers stood chatting by the door.
“It’s not too late! I haven’t missed it! There’s still time!”
Scrooge hustled up the walk, gathering teachers and students into a swelling throng. They surged into the meeting and Scrooge took the floor.
“We have a great school, but we’ve lost our way! These students and teachers are the real story, not us and our books of rules and regulations. We can recapture our spirit! We can recover the spirit of the start!
Let’s go back to the beginning and remember why we started this school in the first place. Let’s be a school for the students again! God bless us with school choice for every one!”
And from that day till they met a final time to remember Founder Scrooge the people said, “That Scrooge—he knew what really mattered. Schools of choice and choice for all!”