Rubber Room Journal - Last Day Before Vacation

While the teachers were celebrating their last day of school, it was nothing compared to the relief we felt in the Rubber Room.
We were all enjoying the bagels that Yeoj brought when Moocher practically stuck his nose in the plate. "Oh, who brought bagels? I should have brought them." Who are you kidding? You haven't offered anyone a peanut since you've been here, I think. Moocher quickly grabs two bagels. "Now I have lunch and breakfast", he says. "You are disgusting", says Sec. Moocher walks away as if he didn't hear a thing.
We had all received an envelope in the mail requesting our summer contact numbers just a few days earlier. "They are going to send us a letter telling us where to report in September", Sketcher told the group. "Will you be back here in September?", he asked. " Where else would I be? Nothing is going to change over the summer", answered Mac. "Looks that way", Moocher said as he sat there scoffing down his bagel. "Well, I just got my charges. I'm looking at six months to a year at least", said Sketcher. When Moocher arrived to the Rubber Room (this is his second stint) he had the whole "mightier than thou" attitude. He was a complete narcissist. "Not me", he would say. "My principal told me he wants me back". Every comment he would make sounded more ignorant than the last. "Do you think that I could work summer school?", He added. "I have retention rights". Annoyed, Sec answered, "You are a criminal. You have no rights! Nothing is as it was before." Moocher sounded like a seven year old who asked the same questions over and over expecting a different answer. "It's pensionable if you work in the summer." He just keeps on pushing.

"So where we goin' for lunch girl? We gots to cel-e-brate!" Flea sings out. "I got to get me some su-shi." This girl requires huge doses of attention when she isn't sleeping. She is loud and irritating which upsets a lot of people. "I got to get me out of this joint. Come on. Where we eatin? Wake me up when it's time for lunch."

Princess makes her entrance at about 10:00. In her high heels and her high pitched voice she says, "Ooh, It's so cold in here. It's freezing! Aren't you cold? It's like an icebox!" No, we're not, I am thinking. It's 89 degrees outside and 75 in here. The air is barely breathable. You come here everyday in shorts and a skimpy blouse. If you're always so cold, why don't you wear a sweater? -"Why don't you wear a sweater?", comments Sketcher. Princess rolls her eyes at him. This is an act that Princess puts on everyday so that she gets out of sitting down here like the rest of us. There is nothing 'real' about Princess. She is a very large woman who dresses up everyday as if she is 'going out with the girls.' Just then her phone rings and she speaks as if none of us can hear. "These people are freezing me out of here!", she tells her phone mate. "I am allergic to the cold". Before she even puts her bag down, she turns around and leaves.

Mr. Warden is in full attire on this last day before the summer. He is wearing a tank top with a suit jacket thrown over the chair. Whenever he wears anything sleeveless, the odor is unbearable. "I have to hold my breath whenever I walk by him. The odor lingers if you don't hold your breath", says Sec.
At lunch time, everyone cuts out to the restaurant except for a few of us. We just go out for a walk to the park. We find Princess outside flirting with the custodian. You can hear her laugh all the way up the block. After lunch, Mr. Warden tells us that we have to stay the full day- unlike our colleagues who usually are granted early departure. Regardless, some people punch out early.
So, there it is. Another day of life in the Rubber Room... Until we return.
Have a Safe and Peaceful Summer.

A Tribute to my Teachers...

Before we all get back to our ranting about Public Education in its' present state, wouldn't it be nice if we could all say thank you to at least one or more of our teachers whose loving gestures would qualify in todays's world as sexual harrassment or corporal punishment and make them eligible for a paid vacation in the Rubber Room?

We all remember those teachers who committed at least one passionate crime of nurturing us with the obscene gesture of a hug, a squeeze of the hand, or a supportive pat on the shoulder. Perhaps they even 'yelled', detained or threatened us in the hopes that we might change for the better.

As a product of the NYC Public Schools of the 70's, I want to take this opportunity to say, "Thank you" to this group of dedicated individuals who've had an incredibly positive impact on my life. They were my public school teachers. In order to protect their anonymity from the likes of 'Kleinberg', OSI and other DOE administrators, I have chosen to refer to them by their first initials only.

Mrs. M, my kindergarten teacher, who played a mean piano, may she rest in peace. Never once did she allow us to put pencil to paper or torture us with "Open Court", thus depriving us of early exposure to the the three R's.

Mrs. B, my 2nd grade teacher who encouraged and applauded my artistic ability even when I couldn't add or subtract to save the life of me.

Mrs. D, who embarrassed me in front of my class by comparing me to my older brother who spent most of his time in the principal's office. The distress and public humiliation she put me through inspired me to want to be a teacher.

Mr. W, my 5th grade teacher, who always punished the whole class for the actions of one student.(Perhaps a lesson in how our actions can affect others?) He spent most of his time shushing us while flirting with Mrs. R outside of our room. The flirting eventually resulted in Mrs. R's divorce and their inevitable marriage. I ran into this beloved man recently and I am happy to report that they are still married!

Mr. D, the most popular and sought after 6th grade teacher. He'd often invite students and their families to his home on weekends and vacations. He made us put our chewed gum in our pocket or on our nose. He taught us the proper way to behave in the halls by making us walk up and down the stairs repeatedly until we either passed out or got it right.

These 'teachers' often raised their voices, used homework as a punishment and made us write, "I will not talk in class." 500 times over. They cared enough to spend their lunch period in the room 'alone with us' so that we couldn't go to recess, called our mothers, used red "x's to correct our papers, and even made us write them over! As a result of their 'ridiculous' demands and expectations, I strived to listen more, write neater and come to school prepared to do work. I walked in a straight line, ate lunch quietly and never talked back to my teacher. I learned that hard work was rewarded with better grades, mistakes made me stronger and respect was something to be earned. The nerve of those teachers for taking the time (which could have been used more productively for 'testing') out of their busy schedules to teach us some valuable lessons about life. Thank you.

The Day the Comedy Died...

In America, anyone can become president. That’s the problem. -George Carlin


I was eleven years old when I first discovered George Carlin, the great comic icon. He was the first performer to ever "host" Saturday Night Live. The year, 1975. My older brother and I had to beg my parents to let us stay up and watch it. We were hooked. George's outlook on life was so refreshingly warped. He said what everyone else was thinking. Filtered through the mind of an eleven year old, it was harmless humor. Of course, most of the political talk went right over our heads, but we loved his spoof on 'dogs and cats'. His comparison of 'football and baseball'. His timing, his voice, his face and his posture. We and the rest of the world couldn't get enough.

It wasn't until I was older that I could fully appreciate the genius of George Carlin. One could always rely on George to comment on the state of things "as they really were" and it never left him at a loss for material. He was in touch with America and its' clear imbalances and inequities. He put his finger on obvious issues and twisted them like silly putty. He got it. We knew he got it. It was comforting to hear the truth. He was one of 'us' and never claimed to be anything but.

I'm always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I'm listening to it.- George Carlin


George, We hope you're still listening. You will be sorely missed.

Packing it All Up

As the school year draws to a close, my elementary school colleagues are busy sweating out their end of the school year rituals. No other job offers the yearly benefit of closure and paid vacation; Time to regroup and then to begin anew. Before the joys and freedom of summer can happen, however, a teacher must digest their final helping of last minute demands(abuses), pressure(threats) and anxiety(fear of imperfection). Meeting deadlines(rushing), planning graduations(grin and bear it), budget meetings(more cuts and layoffs), attending award ceremonies(keep smiling), teacher luncheons(not another one), retirement collections(I don't even know her!), reorganization(favoritism at is' best), rating sheets(the final blow), shuffling articulation cards(those poor kids) and the honorary passing of the file cans(whew, you made it).

It is a time to ponder many questions- Should I extend a kindness to the next teacher and complete the file cards or leave the cards for her to fill out in September? Should I run away? Should I turn in my real classroom keys, or -uh just the ones that are useless to me and anyone else who finds them? Should I leave up the backing or rip it down? Should I run away? Should I pack it up or just cover it? Will I have to move my classroom? Will I have a classroom? Will my stuff still be here in September? What should I do with these?( We may never be able to get 'these' again.)-And in the end, nothing ever gets thrown out. The senior teachers have been packing it up since the beginning of March and the newbies are scrambling for closet space while learning the true value of a clean empty carton (They never take advice). Pack Rats we are, always will be. Let's not forget the dreadful thought of having your classroom used for summer school...The thought of unknowns granted free reign of your room and the opportunity to take, use and destroy everything you've worked so hard to maintain.
The trials of teaching. I can't say that I miss them. Although I do miss some of my colleagues, my present situation has taught me who my real friends are. I am grateful to be away from the toxicity of an unfair administration and the daily injustices I've beared witness to. I am grateful to have removed the rose colored glasses and clearly see through the facade that our country calls Public Education.

Is anyone listening?

Does anyone really care what the teachers have to say? I wonder what would happen if just once someone listened.

"The Notebook"

Poor Mr. Warden. He has nothing to do all day. No one to talk to. For this reassigned A.P. who has made a deal with the devil, loneliness is his well earned sentence. There he sits all day in the hallway - alone. This is a man who not only belongs in the Rubber Room, but is recognized by the non-RR-residents of the building as a severely strange and troubled man. Mr. Warden takes his job very seriously. In fact, he takes his job to a level that can only result in his own self affliction. His obsessive need for control and nasty disposition is sure to keep anyone out of his occupied space.

Poor, poor Mr. Warden. His job is to sit in the hallway outside of the rubber room and 'supervise'. Now he can only 'supervise' if there is someone or something to supervise. Since we still have the 'privilege' of choosing whether or not to open and close the door to the room he sits outside of, naturally, we keep it closed. It is only when we leave the room that he has a purpose- or let's say he has created a purpose for himself. In his "Notebook", Mr. Warden has documented each and every time that I have gone to the Little Girl's Room since the end of March. He just sits there all day long and waits for someone to go to the bathroom. Scary, isn't it??? He not only writes down the time that I leave, but also the time that I return. Mr. Warden lives for the moment that he can take pen to paper and document that someone has left the room. Have to clean your coffee cup? Another entry into the notebook. Please someone tell me, what is the purpose of this!? Does this qualify as a form of corporal punishment? I dare to think (Do we still have that right?) that the amount of time that I spend in the bathroom is a personal and private matter. As a woman I feel that his actions are a sick and perverted way of passing the time. This man is really hurting. Can someone just give this man a job?!!

Joel Klein and His Ego

The big joke of the day in our Rubber Room was the arrival of the "Joel Klein" Evaluation Surveys. Apparently, they were sent from Randi W and brought to us via Mr. UFT Rep of RR's. Mr. UFT Rep explained that the survey's purpose is to measure the level of support we feel Joel Klein has provided to the schools during his reign as Chancellor. As we know, Mr. Klein is doing a thorough clean up and feels that we should applaud him. Mr. UFT Rep informed us that these findings will be published in the UFT paper or somewhere in Journalism Land...We did not get a clear answer. You can be sure that it won't be "The NY Times".

There were about a dozen questions pertaining to the level of support Klein has given to several areas such as parent participation, teacher/principal collaboration, class size, communication among staff etc. etc. UFT Rep assured us that our surveys would remain anonymous, BUT our names had to be checked off as they were distributed and the envelope would indicate our RR location. The questions were very general and we were to indicate our level of agreement with each example given. Naturally, without a second thought, I gave Mr. Klein and his ego an F straight down the board.

If you are not part of the solution...

Lying is done with words and also with silence. -Adrienne Rich

"The Battle of the Air Conditioning"

It's funny how the air conditioner worked 2 months ago in the middle of March. The room was freezing. The custodian-(if you want to call him that)tells us that there are only 2 settings; ON and OFF. After literally begging, he comes in here with his "POWER" key to the thermostat box and pretends to adjust the air. He disappears and the air does not kick in. When confronted, he pretends not to speak english so he doesn't have to give you an answer. He came in three times this morning and I know that he never even touched the settings. He's got a nasty disposition and is on a power trip with his "KEY"- just like the warden is with his "NOTEBOOK" that he won't go anywhere without. The lack of air in here is stifling. This Rubber Room is in a basement and one would hope that the hot air would rise like it's supposed to- but it's sedentary just like its' inhabitants who are gasping for air. My cellmates are cranky and irritable. To add insult to injury, there are two women in here who claim they are "allergic" to air conditioning. Allergic? Ms.3 Seater rants,"Ain't nobody gonna make me feel uncomfortable. I ain't too hot and I ain't too cold." Okay, GoldiLocks. There are 25 others in here who are sweltering. It's 103 degrees and you need to shut up. Did I mention why we call her "3-Seater"? At a table big enough for six chairs, only 3 can sit because she won't move her things. I think that she is also breathing for 3. For tomorrow, I've been eyeing this big fan in my bedroom. For tomorrow- that nice, big fan won't be leaving my side. That'll show you Ms. 3-Seater.

NYC Rubber Room Report: Re-Assignment Rooms May Start in Rochester, NY

NYC Rubber Room Report: Re-Assignment Rooms May Start in Rochester, NY

PRINCIPALS' HANDS TIED IN TEACHER BUDGET CUTS

PRINCIPALS' HANDS TIED IN TEACHER BUDGET CUTS
By YOAV GONEN, Education Reporter
Teachers who are let go by a school trying to make mandatory budgets cuts till must get paid by that school until they find a job at another one.

June 5, 2008 -- NY POST ARTICLE-
City principals are facing a Catch-22 dilemma as they carry out Department of Education orders to cut their school's budgets.

Many would like to do so by reducing the number of teachers.

But under a bizarre department policy, the bounced teachers continue to get their paychecks until they find a new job at another school - and their salaries come out of the budgets of the schools that let them go. (for 6 weeks and then the teachers are off their school payroll and on to the DOE's payroll)
The predicament is tying the hands of principals, many of whom indicated a desire to cut staff in order to save as much as $1 million at some schools.

The regulation means "you're not really the boss of your building," said one Queens principal.

"It means you're carrying people you really don't need. They stay on your register until they get sucked up."

While some principals are looking to shed one or two teachers, it's as many as 20 at large high schools.

The DOE - rather than the individual school - picks up the tab for "excessed" teachers only if they were dropped from schools with declining enrollment or that are being phased out.

Officials said they would help find other ways for principals to make mandatory budget cuts.

"We are committed to working with every principal who has any concerns about meeting their new budget line - item by item if need be," said Education Department spokeswoman Melody Meyer.

Teachers-union President Randi Weingarten insisted that "displacing teachers is not a viable solution."

She added, "Fewer teachers in a school means increased class size, a reduced range of courses and guidance services, and less time for teachers to spend with students."

The current school year is the first where teachers' salaries came out of the budgets of individual schools.

Typically, principals have chosen to cut after-school and Saturday activities and extracurricular programs rather than lose teachers.

The mandatory budget cuts now range from $18,362 to $1,080,751.

But the DOE is hoping those figures can be reduced if the state eliminates restrictions on how $63 million in state aid can be spent.

yoav.gonen@nypost.com

NYC's Missing Teachers

This article was in today's Post News Editorial- Check it out-
NYC'S MISSING TEACHERS

June 6, 2008 -- New York City public-school principals looking to control costs by shedding teachers forgot Lesson No. 1 about schoolhouse politics: The faculty can never shrink, only grow.

"Displacing teachers is not a viable solution," union boss Randi Weingarten says. "Fewer teachers in a school means increased class size, a reduced range of . . . services and less time for teachers to spend with students."

Ah, yes. The class-size trope.

Weingarten & Co. bemoan rooms with as many as - gasp! - 21 kids in the younger grades, on average, and up to 26 kids in the older grades.

But here's Lesson No. 2: Teachers get to use different math than everyone else. Because, in reality, the system's 1 million students share more than 78,000 teachers - producing a student-teacher ratio of, get this, 13-to-1.

So why do classes run so much larger than 13?

Ah, you see, a teacher on the payroll isn't necessarily a teacher in front of a chalkboard.

So where have all the teachers gone?

Gone to rubber rooms, every one.

Or they're on sabbatical.

Or "excessed" - that is, let go (though they still get paid, under rules of their contract).

Meantime, special-ed classes - where the maximum number of kids is 12 - suck up armies of teachers.

For Weingarten & Co., of course, the more teachers, the more dues income to bribe - er, contribute to - politicians.

Any additional teaching is purely coincidental.

But if principals can't trim faculty headcounts, how are they supposed to achieve their share of City Hall's mandated budget economies - given that some 85 percent of their outlays are for personnel costs; that is, for teacher salaries?

They're not, of course.

That's the point.

Teachers are special, don't you know

Rainy days and Wednesdays...

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."
- Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

It's 10am and all is quiet here in the Rubber Room. I can hear the rain hitting against the window and it is unusually hot. This kind of silence is very rare. Usually there are at least 8 of us having a discussion about something. Maybe it's quiet because Rem's not here reporting the daily news. He used to read it aloud every morning- whether you wanted to hear it or not. No one has claimed his seat yet and his table is still covered with magazines. Remnants of Rem. Part of his spirit remains with us while he begins to renew the spirit of others.

Be Careful of What You Wish For...

Last Wednesday, we lost a fellow inmate. Rem got a call from his school district sometime around 1:00 PM and just like that, he was going back. "I'm out of here," he said after his very brief phone call. Allegations unfounded, EXONERATED of all charges. It was exactly 7 months from the day he had arrived in September. Seven months of sitting and waiting. There was no 3020 or investigation. "They couldn't get one kid to talk- not one kid to back their story". "Rem's leaving us", Geo grunted. There was a quiet moment as many of us stood there in disbelief. As happy as we were for him, come tomorrow morning there would be an empty seat at our table. It was almost as if we felt betrayed. "That's great news. I'm really happy for you," I said. "You'd better not be showing up here again", said Geo. For a second I could see a look of terror in Rem's eyes. There was no real comfort in returning to the "Lion's Den" when you're feeling like a zebra. Anything could happen. God knows, we're living proof. We've all read the news and seen enough. Our stories alone could scare away the whole graduating class at Molloy. Everyone wants to go back, but no one really wants to go back to the way it was----the way it still is. At least here we have each other. You guys out there in the jungle-- you're the ones we feel sorry for. Out of danger- we are- at least, for the moment.

Double Whammy

It is June 1st. Tomorrow I will be starting my third month in the Rubber Room...and it is a Sunday night. Double Whammy. I never get to sleep on Sunday nights. Sunday nights mean Monday mornings in the Rubber Room. Monday mornings mean a whole week of waking up and heading to the Rubber Room.

I spend my idle time thinking about the Rubber Room. I've even begun packing up a RR "survival kit" the night before. My laptop and charger, my Vz wireless-only 59.99 a month for unlimited access to the outside world...my cell phone, my cell phone charger, extension cord, a couple of pens, reading glasses, the fliers that were left on my doorstep,gum, my unopened bills, blank checks, stamps, earplugs, earphones, a pillow, blanket, a few packets of sweet and low. That should cover it.
This is all becoming so robotic. I want to cry just thinking about it.
I will guess that by now my salary is being paid by Central. I am officially a prisoner of the DOE.
This is the way things happen here in the Rubber Room. Nothing makes any sense.


Please check this out. You will understand why I love this man.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vMHSGmGtuo

Rubber Room Journal

Truth is not only violated by falsehood; it may be equally outraged by silence.

-Henri Frederic Amiel

While my shepherd sits high on her newly acquired throne of ignorance and accepts credit for the hard work of her staff... I am one sheep, astray from my herd. I have lost my voice, I have lost my way.

I set out for work everyday at 6:30 am., trying to remain calm in the midst of the screeching, moving metal that surrounds me. At the mercy of traffic lights and those with whom I must share the black top, I am aware of the many forces that I must contend with. I pray that my road mates share the same desire; to move rapidly forward in into the space allotted before them. The pace of my road cronies is slowed by the threat of law enforcement, potholes, pedestrians, cell phones, radio stations and caffeine consumption. It is 7:54 and I have beaten my own record time from yesterday. I double park my car, hit the hazards and run into the building. I grab my time card and stake claim of my arrival by "punching in." Aah, It says 7:56 next to the date. I sigh as I am thankful to this primitive recording method that documents my promptness.

My next feat is to rescue my vehicle from it's double parked status and secure a legal parking space. Once again, the "school parking permit" (soon to be a thing of the past if Kleinberg gets his way) that I was issued sits on my dashboard is rendered useless. When was the last time anyone saw a sign that said, "NO PARKING- BOARD OF EDUCATION ONLY?" After circling the area several times without success, I must settle for a space that expires every other day at 10:00am. With no doubt, today is the 'other day' that the sign specifies. The threat of an orange ticket greeting me on my windshield prompts me to set the alarm on my cell phone to 9:45, at which time I must stop whatever it is I'm doing and repeat this time wasting, fuel burning ritual.

It is 8:12 when I sprint from my car and head to my building. I smile at the guard assigned to the door and slowly make my way down the twisting flight of stairs that leads me to the "Rubber Room". (RR) In the hallway that he calls his "office", the 'warden' sits silently. His desk is a bare conference table that was probably once used for school board meetings in the pre-Kleinberg days. He is a reassigned assistant principal who has been hired to watch over the comings and goings of the inmates(teachers) reassigned to this location. He is a 'shell of a man' who once had acquired the prestige of running a high school. Having abused or defaulted in his assignment, he now bitterly suffers the same demise as his inmates. Presiding over the rubber room is his legacy, a job that he takes very seriously.

I tiptoe past the 'warden' avoiding eye contact and enter the tiny room in which I must spend the next 7 hours. Upon entering, I am quietly greeted by my early fellow inmates who have already resigned to their daily routine. "A" who can't fall asleep at night is crashed face down on a makeshift bed of pushing two chairs together. "B" is filling up the glass coffee pot by the water cooler. "C" is busily pounding away at the sewing machine, while "D" is fast asleep at the table in the seat next to her. "E" is on the phone with his Union Rep, I suppose -from what I can make out. I plop down in my chair and look around at the remnants which linger from yesterday's unwilling occupants. On the tables are scattered newspapers, pens and scribbled on legal pads, unopened packets of soy sauce, empty coffee cups and candy wrappers. I use my hand to wipe away a clean area and place my laptop on the table. I stake out an available empty outlet in which to power it up. "Did you read the article in the paper on ATRs?" Mrs. B holds up and article from the Daily News. In walks two women, one with a backpack that looks like it's been trampled on and the other with coffee and the paper. "Traffic was hell", says the backpacked woman and Mrs. B agrees. Ms. A wakes up and greets the two with a yawn and a stretch. "I got here at 6:30", she says. "I couldn't sleep again". I took two Benadryls when I got here and they knocked me out. What time is it?" "Someone forgot to wash out the coffee pot.", says Mrs. B. " Mr. D, you will be getting a counseling letter in your file." We all share a chuckle as Mr. D groggily awakes. "Huh? Oh sorry, I forgot again." he mumbles.

Outside arrests vs. in school cases...

It's been 2 whole months since I was first swept quickly from my classroom and sent here. Yesterday I heard someone say, "This feels like I'm on death row. I'd be out of here faster if I'd gotten arrested. At least I'd have been read my rights and know what it is I am being charged for. " The sad reality is, he is so right. It used to be that if you had an outside case, you could still go to work. By law, you were read your rights and considered 'innocent until proven guilty'. Now under the Kleinberg court, that's all changed. After being arrested, you are now sent to the Rubber Room until your case clears. At least you can look foward to your case clearing. You are still entitled to your due process in a timely manner.
The DOE however, makes up their own make and break rules when it comes to in-school allegations. I've been told that I have to wait six months minimum until I receive my charges. This rule allows the principal six whole months to build up their case, gather witnesses or those willing to lie and cook up up whatever charges they want to. None of this seems right or fair. Shouldn't we also be entitled to an explanation for our reassignment when we are reassigned? The principal wouldn't be able to pile on charges six months later. After six months, if you still haven't received charges, they are supposed to send you back to your school. (This is all hearsay- noone in the RR really knows for sure.) How does the DOE justify holding a teacher in a Rubber Room for six months and then not charging them with anything? Of course, noone really wants to receive formal charges. We'd all like to wake up and find out that this was all just a bad dream. I hear that if and when you do receive your 'envelope', you'd better be prepared for the worst. Charges are often trumped up and things that you never imagined you could do are added on. Noone knows anything for sure. In the Rubber Room we tend to feed on each other's stories and outcomes. Of course, due to its' nature, every case is different. I for one, have not received any formal charges yet. Still, I report to the Rubber Room every day feeling like a convict.

To be continued...

Education Notes Online: The Rubber Room—The Department of Education’s Black Hole

Education Notes Online: The Rubber Room—The Department of Education’s Black Hole

New York teachers unions and Reassignment
July 9th, 2007
Has your favorite presidential candidate even remotely touched on this issue–public school waste?

(nysun.com) A philanthropist who just gave $22.5 million to help the city’s low-income children who attend Catholic schools suggested that if it weren’t for the teachers union, he would have considered supporting public education.

Upon hearing of the donation, United Federation of Teachers president Randi Weingarten described the gift as “tainted.”

What actually taints New York City’s schools, however, is the union’s leadership and the collective bargaining agreement it has negotiated with the city. Thanks to that contract, New York City wastes millions of dollars each year on union perks that could instead be spent on improving public education.

In fact, the $22.5 million donation pales in comparison to what the UFT draws from the city’s taxpayers.

Consider Gotham’s infamous rubber rooms, which the city euphemistically calls “Reassignment Centers.” There are 13 of these rooms across the district, housing nearly 700 public-school teachers each day. As of March 2007, there were 662 schoolteachers assigned to city Reassignment Centers. These teachers have been removed from the classroom amid accusations of wrongdoing. Since they cannot be fired until their case has been fully investigated, they sit in these rooms until their case has been resolved. Yet, in the meantime, they continue to receive their salaries.

Some of these teachers stand charged with rape or acts of violence, others with simple incompetence, and others with inappropriate conduct. Some teachers are innocent, of course. (more)

I have heard of these Reassignment Centers (Rubber rooms) before. Let’s do a quick Google search on this.

(villagevoice.com) The UFT and the DOE each claim no knowledge of the origin of rubber rooms. One longtime employee says they have existed since at least the late 1960s, but in a different form.

Teachers at that time who were accused of wrongdoing were reassigned to their district office where they were put to work filing, typing up reports, and organizing data.

Today, teachers simply rot.

When Argyris reported to 333 Seventh Avenue in Manhattan , one of 13 rubber rooms the district euphemistically refers to as Reassignment Centers, she soon realized that her “job” now consisted of joining about 70 other reassigned teachers in daylong sessions of staring at a wall.

“I felt like a vegetable in a chair,” she says.

Rubber room hours match that of a typical school day—Argyris would sign in at 8:30 a.m. and be released at 3:20 in the afternoon, with a 50-minute lunch break. Like something out of a dystopian fairy tale, however, this school had no children, just a few cafeteria workers, social workers, and custodians who shared the same lot.

In 2000, there were 385 teachers assigned to rubber rooms. Last month, that number had climbed to 662. Argyris, while she sat and stared at a wall, was paid $62,646 a year. The DOE pays about $33 million a year just in salaries to the teachers in rubber rooms—an amount that doesn’t include the salaries of investigators working on the cases of rubber room teachers, the upkeep of the reassignment centers, or the substitute teachers who replace employees like Argyris.

Because teachers in rubber rooms are awaiting their cases to be heard, they aren’t technically being punished. But they are restricted from numerous activities—they can’t use MP3 players, telephones, or laptop computers. (Most flout those rules, however, and use various devices openly.)

Teachers say they soon learn that their peers are territorial and often cranky. One young teacher serving his fifth month tells the Voice the first thing he was told by a supervisor was not to sit in seats claimed by others. Fights have broken out over less, he was told.

“It’s high school on steroids,” he says. “Or maybe a mixture between a minimum security prison and a senior home.”

To keep occupied, teachers read, play games like Scrabble or chess, or work on their screenplays. Art teachers work on paintings. Masters degrees get completed. Last year at the Seventh Avenue rubber room, a group of teachers taught each other to knit. Exercise is a popular activity (more…)

With all the millions spent on this kind of crap, no wonder these schools are in a constant need for more of YOUR money.

Related

Rubber Room Movie

Rubber Rumors

It seems as though the lack of valid information about the rubber rooms these days has people talking or "eh-hem" fictionalizing the facts (my new word).

What's this I hear about vending machines in the RR's? No, I don't think so. Desks just like in an office? No. Wrong again. Let's set the record straight here and now. There's a new rubber room and it's on Park Place and Underhill in downtown Brooklyn. It is one of the smallest & most depressing RR's due to its' size and vicinity in the building. Just take the narrow staircase down two flights to the basement and you will find the room on the left. It's the one with the cement walls and caged windows that are so high, that noone can reach them without a window pole. Right now, it is housing about 30 teachers. You can find Mr. Warden sitting there outside with his 'notebook' and 'pen' in hand writing down every move these teachers make. He's even got the "Serenity Prayer"(How ironic!) hanging up on the wall.
P.S. Don't try getting in there to take a peek. These teachers are not allowed to have any visitors or walk in the hallway.

Grading the Schools on Terror

I found this article was found on a blog named "Under Assault" on Saturday, March 15, 2008...

Grading the schools on terror
As long as everyone’s going around designing “grading” systems for schools – first Klein, now Weingarten — I’ve decided to make one up myself.I see it this way. When the staff lives in fear, they can’t do a good job. Simple as that.So, for starters I paid a short visit to the Homeland Security website to see how they’ve set things up over there. One thing I’m sure to borrow from them is that nifty little color alert chart that grades our fear levels from “Low” to “Severe.”In some schools, you just know the principal is plain out crazy. They’ve been around for a while and have managed to circumvent the contract in almost every way. Even when RW goes over to rein these guys in, it doesn’t much help. Their vision of an educational workplace is simply not ours, and they just don’t care whose lives they’re stomping on. Those schools get a “Severe" alert.You’ll find “High” risk of terror in some of the schools where they’ve just installed a Tweedle, one of those leadership people who haven’t come up through the ranks and probably just got out of grad school. They’re either totally new to the job or still feeling their way, so they haven’t been able to establish a record of unmitigated terror as yet.A school with an “Elevated” level of terror means that you heard that someone down the hall got sent to the rubber room last week and no one knows why.“Guarded” means that everyone should be looking over their shoulder, but particularly in the direction of a chapter leader who’s cozy with the principal.I guess there are a few schools left with a “Low” risk of terror attacks, but only the Tier I people know what it’s like to be in one of those.Someone created a widget I’m thinking of borrowing, so you could plug a Real Time Terror Warning Badge box right into your own computer. Wouldn’t it be nice to know before you leave for school in the morning how much terror you can expect from admin when you get there.
“While there continues to be no credible information at this time warning of an imminent threat to the homeland, the department's strategic threat perspective is that we are in a period of increased risk.”That's from the DHS website, but it sure feels the same way in schools. When teachers are seen crying after administrators have had words with them, when you hear someone’s been disciplined by a principal or AP even in front of students, when a teacher, or a secretary or a guidance counselor comes right out and tells you they can’t stand it anymore and this will be their last year, that they’ve had it, that they’ll never be around long enough to make good on the 55/25, then you know you’re in a terrorized school.I know someone who got to be chapter leader for the first time about seven years ago. After a year of collaborating with her scalawag of a principal, she's had a rocky trip ever since: excessed twice, harassed (until the union jumped in and stopped it), and marginalized. She says the threat of being given a U-rating based on nonsense or sent to the rubber room on a trumped-up charge is always on her mind. With 20 years in the system, consistent satisfactory ratings and commendations, there’s never a day, she says, that she enters a school building without thinking: What bad thing is going to happen to me in here today?I call that terrorization of the workplace, and I believe it is one of BloomKlein’s biggest legacies.Re-read Mary Hoffman’s "Jack Welch is My Daddy", in which she talks a whole lot about how the CEO brought his “big stick” methodologies to Klein’s Leadership Academy.
This fall, the opening episode of the documentary about the Leadership Academy featured scenes from the ceremony for the first class of graduates. . . . Jack Welch played a role in the proceedings. When I saw him at the podium I wondered: would he wish the graduates luck? Tell them they could continue to call on him for advice and support? Thank them in advance for the years of public service they were about to embark upon?“Get rid of your negative people,” he said.. . . And who might those people be? Probably anyone who expresses skepticism about any aspect of the new curriculum. The official term used by the instructors at the Leadership Academy is “pushback,” and students role-play methods of dealing with it. A Joel Klein statement made in the course of the documentary is also instructive in this regard: he said one way the new principals could gauge their effectiveness was to ask themselves “...how much you are changing the system, and how much the system is changing you.” In other words, “good” graduates will not be altered from the missionary outlook the Academy has instilled in them; “bad” ones might allow themselves to learn something on the ground, even from people who don’t have the Academy’s seal of approval. This is what some of us long-term educators are up against. We know pretty much what works in the classroom, but the autonomy and prep time it needs to get it done have been taken away. Every single time we do some "pushback," we run the risk of Klein's legacy, that you're not gonna be a happy camper if you speak up.Andrea Gabor, in Strategy+Business, also reported on a tidbit of Jack Welch, who was addressing a class of principals at the Leadership Academy:
Jack Welch is pacing the floor of a large, window-less conference room in Brooklyn. Occasionally leaning against a table, the straight-talking former chief executive officer of General Electric Company alternates between haranguing and cajoling his audience of 60 or so middle managers. “Your job is harder than running a company,” Mr. Welch tells them. “’Cause running a company, you have all the bullets in your gun. Well, you have sort of a water pistol, I guess.” He pauses. “And it’s out of water.”The room erupts in laughter.“But you’ve got to find a way to put water in that pistol anyway,” Mr. Welch continues, almost shouting. “And eventually, put bullets in your gun.”Does this kind of language have anything to do with education? Should teachers be afraid of what their principals will do to them next?The BoE takes great care to protect students from verbal abuse (A-421), which they’ve defined in part as language "that tends to cause fear or physical or mental distress" and "tends to belittle or subject students to ridicule." But they've done diddlysquat to protect its lower level employees from similar kinds of mental distress and abuse.There should be a method — and the union has really let this go on way too long — whereby abusive, terrorizing principals can be brought up on charges of Staff Abuse and put under immediate investigation. Witnesses could be summoned, statements from colleagues taken. Maybe it wouldn’t be feasible to detain these administrators in a rubber room, but certainly a representative agreed upon by the UFT and the BoE could be installed to watch over the culprit for a while until he stopped hurting people. That would send a message, wouldn’t it. Maybe we’ve become too used to terror in the workplace, and maybe, if the union stopped collaborating for a moment, there’d be ways to turn this around.

New from the lab: It's been a few days since this post first went up, and we're working towards a way to add the names of schools that are particularly dangerous to teachers. You should be able to know what you're in for before applying for a new job. Click on the alert to see the animated version we've been working on, and when you get to the new link, click on the buttons.

The Tax Man

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El9RZvbXIj4
The Beatles
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sN6e0teFLxc
Schoolhouse Rock explains "taxes".


"The Taxman"

Let me tell you how it will be
There's one for you, nineteen for me
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
Should five per cent appear too small
Be thankful I don't take it all'
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah I'm the taxman
If you drive a car, I'll tax the street,
If you try to sit, I'll tax your seat.
you get too cold I'll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet.
Don't ask me what I want it for
If you don't want to pay some more
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
Now my advice for those who die
Declare the pennies on your eyes
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
And you're working for no one but me.

Needless to say, the Beatles were a band before their time.


http://nycpublicschoolparents.blogspot.com/2008/04/more-on-how-mayors-bullying-didnt-work.html
Mr. Mayor didn't get his way this time :) Shame on you! Don't you know that "Management By Intimidation" and "Bullying" are tactics that qualify for the Chancellors Regulations against "Corporal Punishment?"
NY Times Article http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/08/nyregion/08congest.html?pagewanted=print-

Movies- Watch 'em & Weep: Rubberroom

http://youtube.com/watch?v=bxgjMUxY0Ak
Rubber Room occupant talks about the Rubber Rooms

http://youtube.com/watch?v=y7O7C25U73w
The "Rubber Room Movie" trailer
- for more information check out- rubberroommovie.com

http://youtube.com/watch?v=PPMtYjhnRqc&feature=related
Mismanagement of Teachers- The Rubber Room

http://youtube.com/watch?v=w2LGTWXaPr0
Teacher Advocacy Challenges Group Joel Klein
at the Tweed Courthouse w/Betsy Combier &
Polo Colon

Randi, Where are you?

http://RANDI AND THE RUBBER ROOMS

Teacher Salaries

MRS. KRAM WAS A VERY GOOD TEACHER. Like all teachers, good or bad, though, she didn't make a whole lot of money. Reading about exploding salaries in sports, she once asked me, since I write about baseball, "Why should athletes make so much more than teachers? Teachers are certainly more important to society than baseball players."
"When people start paying to watch teachers teach," I told her, "their salaries will get closer to what players make."

That's what it boils down to, as salaries are now at or near record levels in the major sports leagues. This baseball season, the average player is making $2.4 million, an all-time high. In three games, he earns what a typical high school teacher makes in a year, $45,000. More and more, athletes seem to be living on another cash-abundant planet, but there's an argument to be made that they deserve all those dollars.

Now if that doesn't rile you up, this should...

If only we were all paid accordingly...
Teachers' salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work 9 or 10 months a year! It's time we pay them for what they do--babysit! We can get that for less than minimum wage. That's right. Let's give them $3.00 an hour for the hour they work, not any of that silly planning time.That would be $19.50 a day (7:00 AM to 3:30 PM or so) with just 25 min. off for lunch. Each parent should pay $19.50 a day for these teachers to baby-sit their children. NOW...How many do they teach in a class, 30? So that's $19.50 x 30 =$585.00 a day.However, remember they only work 180 days a year!!! We're not going to pay them for any vacation. LET'S SEE....That's $585 x 180= $105,300 per year.What about those teachers with advanced degrees? Well, we could pay them minimum wage, and just to be fair, round it off to $7.00 an hour. That would be $7 x 6 1/2 hours x 30 children x 180 days = $245,700 per year.Wait a minute--there' s something wrong here! Average teacher salary $50,000/180 days = $277/per day/30 students = $9.23/6.5 hours = $1.42 per hour per student. A very inexpensive "baby-sitter" and they even try - with your help - to EDUCATE your kids! WHAT A DEAL....

Sleepwalking...

One can only live in the 'dark' for so long. Eventually, someone or something will disturb your blissful state. Yes indeed, one day while you are sleepwalking through your life, someone will turn on a light. It won't be just any light. It will be one of those glaring, blinding high beam in your eyes types of lights. Up until now, I have been sleepwalking and was unaware of it. Where have I been? 

Our school received a surprise this year. A bright and shiny new 'principal' shipped straight from the Leadership Academy. http://ice-uft.org/daddy.htm Still in the package, this new model of principal will be using our school as her experimental lab...We, the teachers (The guinea pigs) will endure the test run of all tests. She, young and frail looking, barely makes eye contact with anyone. When she speaks, her stone cold tone sends chills down the spines of our most seasoned teachers. One can not tell what she is thinking as she silently creeps up and down the hallways. Hey, how bad can she be? She's human. She shared that she is married to a bus driver. She has two young daughters that she seems to be proud of. As a mother myself, I'd like to believe that being a parent means that you automatically a have a place in your heart for others.
Weeks have gone by, and the changing of the guards is proving to be a huge and unwelcome wake up call.  Rumor has it that our new principal has threatened some of the older,long term residents of our school building. Also, she has this zero tolerance thing that has thrown everyone for a loop. First, there were threats of what would follow if one were late. If getting to work weren't hard enough already, I have now started leaving my home 20 minutes earlier. Anxiety ridden, I drive around in fear of not finding a place to park, while 'Her Honor' allows herself the privilege of parking in the schoolyard. In a very short time, she has made herself comfortable while making most of the staff feel uneasy and insecure. Although it's too early to tell, what is happening at our school will soon turn into a nightmare forcing the most veteran teachers to awaken.

Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Teachers...

When I was in grade school, I idolized my teachers. Like most little girls, I wanted to be just like Mrs. Benner, my second grade teacher or an artist like Mrs. Savage... I loved the attention of my teacher. When she said to do something, I did it. I believed everything she said and watched everything she did. I even wondered what she did 'all night' in the classroom when we went home. As a child, being a teacher meant being the one to hold the chalk, mark the homework, and give out the gold stars. I couldn't wait to get my first blackboard- and when I did, I lined up my most attentive stuffed audience and taught away.

As a NYC teacher, I have some questions for the "Kleinberg" team...

" When did the 'teacher' become the the least important component in the business of 'teaching?'

When did teachers drop so low on the food chain?

When did teachers become the 'disposable' factor in a system that teaches?

When did teachers become the scapegoat for everything that is wrong with our city's children?

When did terrorizing teachers become an acceptable practice? Why is Reassignment the Biggest and best kept Secret of the NYCDOE?

My mother always said, "Be a teacher. You'll have a secure job, a paid summer vacation, health benefits and a pension." I followed my mother's advice. I went to school and got my masters degree in education. I spent 5 years in night school working toward earning 30 credits above my masters. I never doubted my direction for one minute. On the first day that I began to teach, I knew that I had found my calling. I remember thinking, "Wow, we get paid all day to be with children, enrich their lives, fill them with knowledge and then get to leave at 3:00! I couldn't wait to come back. Compared to my last 9 to 7 job, this was heaven. I returned home every night with lesson plans to write, homework to prepare and a relentless drive to make my students shine. I never imagined that I'd live to eat my words...
I have been a NYC teacher for 22 years. In spite of those horrible, heartless and harrassing administrators, ungrateful, indifferent parents and 'kids gone wild' politics, I do feel that I have been able to make a difference. I know in my heart that I have touched lives, instilled good values and provided lifelong lessons. However, that day has finally come, the one where I eat my words. Thanks to our Mayor, Teaching is no longer a labor of love. I speak for myself and those among me who have been burned by a system that doesn't value the very essence of education. As for creativity, uniqueness, years of 'bending over backward' experiences, late night cramming, planning and thinking outside of the box, there is no more room in the NYCDOE for me. The security part- it's all a myth. The glorified benefits are being cut down everyday. Health insurance plans(getting more expensive) -TDA's- The Unnattainable Sabbaticals- Tenure (also at risk) -and ahhh, summers off... Why should we complain? Why because we pay our dues royally all year round. We pay with our hearts and our souls. We give up our lunch hours, weekends and overall sanity. We are constantly 'cut down', restrained and intimidated by a system with a death wish.

The Rubberroom...You need to know....

Imagine being stuck in an elevator, elbow to elbow for seven hours and wondering if anyone even knows you're there. Waiting and wondering if anyone will ever come and save you. That's what being in the rubberroom is likeIt sounds like a story concocted by a mental patient, but it's not. Rubber Rooms (RR) are one of the city's "Best Kept Secrets" and the taxpayers are the ones who are footing the bill.


It costs the city's taxpayers about 80 million dollars a year to keep these sites running. Teachers are collecting their full salaries while substitute teachers are being paid to fill in for them. At the present time, there are roughly 13 active Rubber Rooms in the city filled with about 800 of our city's teachers. This number has almost doubled in the past year since the 'Kleinberg' Leadership Academy Principals have been running the schools. Cutting out high paid teachers is one reason for the increase in RR occupancy. Most of the teachers occupying the RRs are over 40 and collecting a top of the scale salary. Others are near retirement. This is the principal's way of driving them out, hoping they will retire sooner. Then the principal can hire a young, inexperienced teacher at a much lower cost to their budget.


Why the secrecy? Teachers in the RRs are scared. They have been told not to talk to anyone by their own UFT Chapter Leaders. They have been advised not to say anything negative about the Union that does not protect them for fear that they will make matters worse for themselves. They have been told to watch out for spies who will question them and twist their words. Most of the teachers have been in the system for so long that they don't know where to turn. They have been cut off from their colleagues. They have been driven out of their schools after 20 -30 years and told that they cannot return without an appointment. Some don't know why they have been sent. They are ashamed. There is a huge negative stigma attached to the RR that labels one as 'Damaged Goods'. They are afraid of losing everything they have ever worked for. They have families to support and bills to pay. Some don't even tell their spouses and family. They just get up every morning and leave for 'work' as they always did. They have dedicated their lives to teaching children, taking graduate classes, building a reputation and a career. Watching it all fall apart can be devastating.


When allegations of abuse/corporal punishment/insubordination etc. are made against a teacher, the teacher is ordered by their school principal to report to a 'Reassignment Center' aka a 'Rubber Room' until a formal investigation is made in their case. The allegation can be anything from scolding a child to throwing a chair across the room. The allegation might be reported by a student, a parent or anyone who has it out for a teacher. Some teachers are pulled out on false or trumped up charges because of ongoing conflict with an angry principal. They may have expressed their opinion to the principal's dislike or pointed out some wrong doing in the school (whistle blowing).


The indecent conditions of the RRs are the DOE's way of exploiting tenured teachers whom they can't get rid of. The rooms are overcrowded and claustrophobic. Some are in the basements of buildings with windows that are unreachable- making for a 'cell-like' feeling. The walls are bare except for a bulletin board. Natural light and fresh air is at a premium. This makes for cranky and uncomfortable teachers. Teachers are under constant surveillance. All of their comings and goings are monitored. They must punch in and out. They must ask for permission to do everyday actviities like, 'go to the bathroom' or talk on the phone in privacy. They must stay in the RR most of the day without the freedoms of coming and going. These are not acceptable conditions for a person who is by law, "Innocent until proven guilty".Regardless of the severity or validity of the charge, the teacher is often the last to know. They are not given any details of the charge or told who reported them- only that they are to leave the school building at once (afterall they are now considered a potential danger to children) and told not to return without an appointment.


In the RR, as in prison, subcultures are inevitably formed. Territory is clearly defined and enforced by its' occupants. Confrontations among teachers are common. Petty arguments break out over table space, refrigerator space, missing food, wall outlets, room temperature, chairs and noise level. When people are reduced to a state of 'nothingness', they fight about 'nothing' but what is left to them.


How do I know so much about the Rubber Rooms? I know firsthand because I am a Rubber Room occupant myself. "I reported to work on a Wednesday morning, was pulled out by my principal upon arrival and handed a letter stating that allegations of corporal punishment were made against me. I was in shock. By 10am, I was sitting in a cement room filled with teachers who were doing absolutely nothing. It looked like a holding cell for criminals". Here is a colleague's story...
"I was already reading with my class when the principal entered my room and handed me a letter of allegations. I was told to read it immediately. There I stood, with chalk in one hand and the letter in the other. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there and cried in front of all of my students. "Teachers report to the Reassignment Center (either in an existing school or a rented office building)under the impression that they will be given an 'alternative assignment' while their case is being investigated. Wanting to look their best, some show up in suits and ties for their new, 'temporary job'. When they arrive, they are completely bewildered by the scene that awaits them. Talk about pulling the wool over one's eyes. The teacher enters into an environment that resembles no other that they have ever seen."It was so noisy and crowded that I was afraid to walk in." 'Oh, we have new one!', someone yelled out. "Who's that?", another mumbled. The room quieted down and everyone turned to look at me. I found an empty chair and proceeded to sit down when someone said,'You can't sit there, that's _______'s chair. They're not here today. And then, "You can't sit there, that's ________'s chair. You have to find another chair.' Suddenly, I got this feeling like I was in a lunchroom with a bunch of 12 year olds. They were extremely territorial, they even placed their coats on the chairs next to them so that I couldn't sit down.



While still collecting their full salary and benefits, these teachers report to the RR everyday while awaiting formal charges from the DOE. Some wait for 6 months with no word from the Union. Others had ongoing cases for more than a year. A few were in the room for their 2nd or 3rd time! Once you are removed from your school, there is no way of telling when and if you will return. Many teachers describe being in the RR as a "paid vacation". As much as they would like to be working, it is often a relief to be away from the power crazed administration and the stress of the children who without support from the administration, have become unmanageable.

Although it is against the RR's list of rules, teachers kept themselves busy by playing chess, drawing, knitting, listening to Ipods and working or viewing DVD's on their laptops. Some were writing books, memoirs and poetry. Some read alone in a corner, placed 2 or more chairs together and slept, while others sat in a group sharing their war stories. They laughed and they cried while talking on their cell phones. There were cell phone chargers plugged into every outlet around the room. They brought their own chairs, pillows, blankets and even air mattresses. The room was overcrowded, noisy ,filled with tables and chairs, but nothing else.