Page 11 of Hate You, Maybe
“In a situation like that, the SACSS would return in two years instead of four.” His face pulls into a grimace. “And I don’t have to tell you that would look bad to the school board and to the community,” he adds. “So I promised Dr. Dewey we’d land another four-year accreditation. And if I can’t make that happen, I’m afraid the district might transfer me to … Vista Middle School.”
I tip my head. “Is that bad?”
“Vista is a hellscape of hormones.” He shudders.
Dexter squints. “I’ve heard great things about that school.”
“I’m sure Vista’s teachers are heroes and the students are a delight,” Mr. Wilford says. “Sadly, I’m not built for tweens.”
Dex bobs his head. “Then I’ll make sure that transfer doesn’t happen.”
“Me too,” I add. “I can also make sure of that, sir.”
Mr. Wilford’s jowls sink. “The fact that you both just talked about yourselves in the singular, not the plural, is the problem.”
“I can totally be plural,” I say.
“She meanswecan be plural,” Dex interjects.
Terrific.
“I wish I shared your confidence.” Mr. Wilford’s tone is gruff. “But you’ve both proven yourselves to be independent leaders who thrive onindividualsuccess. And the SACSS will be looking for collaboration during their visit. Camaraderie and cooperation that extends beyond the classroom.” He steeples his hands on the desk. “Unfortunately, you two have a history of … not cooperating.”
“Us?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Dex and me?”
“Yes.” Mr. Wilford grunts. “As directors of my two biggest departments, you set the tone for the rest of the teachers, and I can’t have any bickering or tension during evaluation week. Dr. Dewey and the school board will be watching every move we make. I need the SACSS tofeelyour collaboration from the top down.”
Dex nods. “That won’t be an issue for me.”
“Me either, sir,” I chime in. “I’ll do whatever it takes to have the SACSS feel me from the top down.”
An uncomfortable silence follows.
Yeah, I hear it, now.
Mr. Wilford leans over his desk. “I’m glad to hear that, but you both still sound like people who are willing to work hard on your own. I need my top leaders to thrive as a team. But that kind of shift won’t be easy. So to help you on that journey, I’m sending you both on a professional development retreat.”
He plucks a couple of glossy brochures from the top drawer of his desk and pushes them over to us.
“Camp Reboot. In Asheville. They had a cancellation in their next session, so there are two spots left. If you agree, you’ll take a district station up there and spend a few days being led by experts in the field of collaboration. All expenses paid.” He leans back, hands clasped on his belly. “They’re prepared to help you two come up with a new plan to really blow away the SACSS.”
Dexter cuts me a glance, then looks back at Mr. Wilford. “I’m a team player, and I’d like to be on board. But three days is a lot of school to miss.”
“I feel the same way,” I rush to agree. “I can’t abandon my classes and rehearsals for that long.”
“Well, you’re both in luck,” Mr. Wilford says, “because Camp Reboot’s next retreat is this upcoming Monday through Wednesday. That’s during our staff development week for fall break. The students won’t be here anyway. So while the rest of the faculty is here in meetings, you’ll be up there. Preparing to wow the SACSS.”
My heart sinks.
He can’t actually force us to do this, can he?
“Of course I’d never force you to go,” Mr. Wilford continues. Almost like he read my mind. “But there is an added incentive for your cooperation.”
I gulp. “Incentive?”
“You both know that very soon, I’ll be making my decision about the frig.”
Cue another uncomfortable silence.
