My PEApickin' Past

It was 1993 and one of the secretaries in my office, Vicki Keck, entered my office and shut the door. 

“We're going to be arrested,” she said. “Pearl told me.”

Vicki had served as the secretary at the office of the Polk Education Association for the past 15 years. She was an attractive black woman, single mother of three, and she had been a source of knowledge that kept the office going year after year from one president to the next.

There were three UniServ Directors working for PEA, I was one of them, but the actual power within PEA came from the elected leadership, with the majority of that power in the hands of their full time release president. The presidents served one year at a time. At the end of each year the president had to get himself, or herself re-elected, or move on to something else, either returning to the classroom, or taking some other job. The building representatives [board members] had recently passed a change to their constitution placing term limits to to two terms per president.

For 15 years a good relationship with Vicki meant that she could keep an elected president of PEA from looking like a classroom teacher with no experience running a huge organization (which they all were.)

“Arrested?” I said. “Arrested for what?”

“Fraud. We're both being arrested, me and Tamari. Tamari was another secretary, who had only been with PEA for 5 years, but she was also a competent employee.

“What fraud?”

“The grades,” she said.

The two secretaries had negotiated a contract with PEA, two years ago, that allowed them to go to college at night taking business courses and to get paid $100 for every 'A' they earned, and $50 for every 'B' they earned. The practice had been for the secretaries to turn in an original transcript with the grades and PEA would cut a check for the A's and B's.

This was never considered a big deal until Mario Santiago, reached his term limitation as president and was moving from the teacher's union to a Dean of Students job at Bartow High School. Mario was being succeeded by a woman, Betsy Keen. Betsy was an attractive woman, a long time member of the PEA board. She had paid her dues and earned her turn in the leadership position.

Personally, I'd felt fine with Betsy taking on the job of PEA president. Betsy was always friendly, and she always appeared to be pleasant and even tempered.

What I've come to know is that we all wear masks. I think the masks are there to present ourselves to others as we think of ourselves to be. The intention of the mask is not a premeditated act to mislead others, it is a premeditated act to mislead ourselves. Perhaps this is true only of myself, but I believe most people are wanting to be nice, or competent, or funny, or cleaver so we select a funny guy mask when that is who we want to be, or a sexy vamp mask when that is who we hope we are, or a nice person mask because we wish we were nice people. Life has a way of ripping our mask off at inappropriate moments. Like a wardrobe malfunction that leaves the Queen of England with a nipple exposed to the paparazzi.

Over time Betsy's mask slipped a little, from time to time. Maybe she had this same personality in the classroom. You know the type, one of those teachers that can not stand being questions or argued with, one of those teachers that needs dictatorial control over the classroom, one of those teachers that, wielded her power against powerless children, who wither and entire classroom with her hard face who can speak and burn to a crisp every child within range of her blast furnace tirade of words.

The whiny sniping of PEA members tugged on her mask.

One day I was making copies and Betsy slammed the phone into its cradle and shouted, “I'm so tired of these fucking morons I could explode.”

It was an outburst that came out of nowhere. While Betsy looked like a kiddo Sunday school teacher, I knew she wasn't practicing any religion at all, and if I'd had doubts the “fuck you” phone call eliminated all remaining doubts.

The reveal was not complete, it was, in fact, just beginning. Betsy relished the position of president. PEA was one of the larger teacher unions in the US and the second largest in Florida. The union had money, property, and at least some clout. The union clout in Polk County was less that the membership imagined, but we were large enough that the Superintendent and administration knew they could use us, from time to time to accomplish their own goals. Betsy liked going to a school and having a crowd of people coming to her to resolve their problems. It is a heady experience that I enjoyed back when I was the president of a much smaller teacher union.

Betsy, as it turned out, had some southern baggage. The executive director of PEA was Pearl Flowers, a back female who came up through the classroom to land at a place where, when the aging executive director had exhausted his welcome, the leadership of PEA felt like they had to give the CEO slot to Pearl. She was next in line. The Assistant Executive Director, JT  Parker, had only been with PEA three years, so it just seemed like moving Pearl up was what they had to do. Mario, the PEA president who hired me, was the son of Cuban Refugees, and he had no racial problems, but this was not the case for Betsy.

If Pearl disagreed with Betsy it was like the cartoon snowball rolling down a snowy hill. Faster than you could expect, the snowball became the size of an earth-killer meteor picking up all the refuses of smaller conflicts until we had a shouting match going on in the office.

Vicki and Tamari sided with Pearl, although this was done mostly in private with buckets of passive aggressive added in for good measure. Actually some of the passive aggressive was not all that passive.

Both Vicki and Tamari smoked. When I started at PEA you could smoke inside the building, they even allowed smoking during building representative meetings. But soon after I got to Bartow Florida, they building reps voted to make the building smoke free. So Vicki and Tamari would have to go outside to smoke. They took turns so as not to leave the phones uncovered, but one day, after Betsy had called Pearl a nigger, the two secretaries took turns walking by the passenger side of Betsy's car and keying the side.

I guess Betsy didn't find the keyed side of her car until after she got home, because the following day I walk in on what looks like it could be the preliminaries for a firing squad. Tamari and Vicki were standing against a blank wall while Betsy was pontificating.

“Deny it all you want to, but I know it was you two that keyed my car.” Vicki openly allowed her eyes to roll. Betsy obviously saw this because her eyes got wide and locked in like heat seeking missiles.

“Well?” asked Betsy acting as if her statement should be enough to make even the most hardened of paint job keying bandits to break into a gushing tearful confession.

“Well, what?” asked Vicki.

“You know what.”

“I don't know what,” Vicki said. “We've already told you three times it wasn't us.”

“It was you!”

“People walk up and down that street all day,” Vicki said. Tamari was standing there clearly terrified and saying nothing. “Anybody could've walked by and keyed that car. Hell, it could be one of the building representatives that keyed your car. Maybe you won the election but everyone didn't vote for you and not everyone likes you. The only people I know for sure did not key your car is me and Tamari.

“God fuckin' damn I know it was you two. I know it and you know it.”

“Then prove it,” Vicki said, giving Betsy a look that was like laser beams through an Eskimo Pie.

Betsy looked back like she could not believe a black secretary, her own employee, could stand up to her like that.

“Fuck you,” she whispered. Betsy turned and walked to her office slamming the door behind her. She didn't come out for three hours, and when she did she left the building, got in her scratched the hell up car and drove away.

It was tight-rope tense after that.

It was about this time that I screwed up. I know that no one is imperfect, but my entire life I have believed that the only contest I could win was the Who Is The Most Imperfect Person Alive. I was mildly successful at my efforts to get out of the classroom and to earn more money, but I was a fraud. I was scared all the time that someone would figure out that I was a stupid idiot, and finally one of my great fears was realized. One of my masks was ripped off.

My exposure was public and, for me, devastating. It happened like this:

In the 1992 contract negotiations PEA signed off on a proposal from the school board that would end Driver's Education. The school board felt that drivers education was too expensive to continue, that it wasn't really the job of schools to teach kids to drive, and it was not really the schools job to help parents get a reduction on their car insurance premiums.

The elimination of driver's education was not popular with parents, kids, and it was especially not popular with coaches. One important point to understand here is that most of the coaches were members of PEA. That means that PEA had negotiated away something that added income to a segment of our membership, and that is traditionally not what unions do.

I was against the decision. My experience as a union president was to advocate for the membership, always, constantly, with rigor, and loyalty to the membership.

PEA had recently stuck their collectively stupid toe into the cooperative decision making. PEA had made a video with the school board's administration where both sides said stuff on camera about how they could do more for employees and children if they approached decision making together. Mario, the president who brought me on board at PEA. Mario's quote was something like this:

“Management and the Association are in the same boat. If there is a leak in that boat, it doesn't matter if the leak is on management's side, or if it is on the Association's side the only logical thing to do is for both sides to work together to plug the leak.”

So in the spirit of cooperative decision making, PEA had agreed to the elimination of drivers education, and the screwing of the drivers education teachers, most of whom were coaches.

I felt there was a sense among the PEA leadership that coaches might be members, but they were in general a flock of dullards who were never interested in PEA unless some kids accused them of molestation.

Betsy was all into that cooperative decision making shit and she was firmly OK with screwing the drivers education teachers. Betsy was also firmly in favor of keeping this agreement as quiet as possible.

It turns out that coaches are not only interested in PEA when they are accused of a sex crime. Coaches are also interested in money, and they expect their union to increase that money not decrease it.

The coaches organized a meeting at Bathune Academy in Haines City, Florida.  Betsy had me come along, because her favorite staff member, JT, had a conflict.

Keeping members was a concern because joining PEA was a voluntary act, and an expensive act. On the other hand, the union president could say publicly that she was opposed to a provision when she had eagerly signed off on this give-away. If she stood up for the drivers education coaches after siding with the school board was only going to cause her problems. The school board would defend themselves by making it clear that the president of PEA had signed off on this provision. The membership would call her a puppet of the school board. Betsy was in what I like to call a Lose/Lose situation.

Betsy was sweating that meeting, when I came up with a suggestion. I suggested that the coaches write letters to the editor explaining to the public how important drivers education was to assisting young people to become responsible, safe drivers.

One of the coaches was a guy I'd helped out the year before and he stood up and told the other drivers ed teachers that I was an honorable man and that they should accept guidance from me.

There was some discussion and the coaches that thought it was a good idea did not feel confident in writing such a letter. I offered to write a letter for them and have them come by and sign it the following afternoon.

I wrote, what I thought was a powerful defense of the drivers education program in Polk County, three coaches came, read the letter, they all agreed they liked the letter, the letter was signed and I had the letter mailed to the Lakeland Newspaper.

A day or two later I was sitting in my office when Betsy is suddenly there at my office door.

“Ricky Rosewood was on the line. He was from the Lakeland Paper and he wants to know if anyone from the PEA office wrote a letter in support of driver's education.”

I let that settle in.

Betsy continued, “Now this is very important.” The look on her face was very clear, I was not to screw up on this. “Under no circumstances are you to let that reporter know that you were the author of the drivers ed letter. Have you got it?”

“I've got it.” Let me be clear, I had no problem telling a lie. I have lied before, and I have continued to lie all of my life. I don't think of myself as a liar, and yes, I am aware of how stupid that sounds. If you tell lies you are, by definition a liar.

Perhaps I should add that I am stupid far more often than I lie, and that my experience has informed me that telling lies is almost always stupid, and the wrong thing, nevertheless, when Betsy said I was to lie I took the phone tapped the On Hold button off, and there I was on the phone with Mr. Rosewood.

“Mr. Norman, are you the member of the PEA staff that wrote a letter to the editor in defense of the drivers education program?”

“Well, no,” I said feeling all James Bond like in my denial.

“Well that is odd,” said the reporter, “because I just got off the phone with the three drivers education teachers who officially signed the letter, and one by one all three men said that while they signed the letter that you were the person who actually wrote the letter.”

“No,” I said again, “it wasn't me.”

“The reason I ask,” said the reporter, “is because the letter is littered with misspellings.”

“Oh.” I said 'Oh,' but I had intended to say, 'Oh?'

“So you are going to stick with your answer that you did not write this letter?” Mr. Rosewood asked.

“That's correct,” I said. “I did not write the letter.”

I could see that I should have accepted responsibility for the letter, but Betsy, the president of PEA, was still standing in the door opening to my office, and she was still looking like someone had just sneezed in her Cheerios.

“Well,” the reporter said, as he was winding up this phone call, “the Lakeland Ledger will be writing a story about how teachers, people the public expects to educate their children, wrote a letter to the editor, and that letter was filled with over a dozen misspellings, and my article will go on to say that when I called the PEA staff member these teacher claim was the actual author of the letter, that that person, tex norman denied writing the letter. In effect, Mr. norman, you are blaming the misspellings on the teachers.”

“OK,” I said. I knew this was going to be bad.

It was bad.

When the article came out calling the drivers ed teachers who officially signed the letter later called the office and chewed Betsy's ass off. Betsy then came to my office.

“Well, tex,” she said, “you fucked up so you are going to have take responsibility for the letter. We can't let teachers take the blame for this.”

“I will,” I said. “I'll write a letter to the editor and get it to that Russo reporter today.”

Betsy sort of nodded her head and turned away.

I can't find the letter to the editor that I wrote, but I know it contained something like this:

To The Editor:

I am the Associate Executive Director of the Polk Education Association and I want to confess sin. When the reporter, Mr. Rosewood, called and asked me about the driver's education letter, I was embarrassed and I commited sin: I lied. I have been a poor speller all my life, I cannot explain why spelling is such a problem for me, but it is, and I am the one who caused the spelling errors to be in the letter to the editor which was signed by teachers who had requested my help.

Maybe my letter to the editor was better than what I recall above. Maybe what I recall now, is better than what I actually wrote, nevertheless, I took responsibility for the letter and everyone who read that letter and an article that followed by Mr. Rosewood, was aware of how stupid I was in the area of spelling.

I was ashamed.

Betsy came up to me the following day and said that perhaps I'd beat en myself up a little too much.

I took that to mean maybe what had happened was not the end of the world and that I had more than made up for my error.

That was wishful thinking.

The following day I felt sure would go OK because Betsy was going out of town for a meeting in Tallahassee.

I got to the office and found a letter in the IN tray on my desk.

It was a letter from Betsy informing me that I was being suspended two week without pay. I was to stay in the office while she, Pearl, and JT were out of town, but upon their return to town my suspension was to begin.

I started to sink. I remember an old quote:

“Screw up your courage, because you've already screwed up everything else.”

But I could not screw up my courage. I had no courage. My spine was the consistency of a wet wash rag. The only thing that could have been worse for me was being fired, and I was almost certain that this two week suspension was just the first step, the opening gambit, to the land of unemployment. I felt sure I was going to be fired.

How would we survive? I had a son in elementary school. I had a wife who was a thousand miles from her family, teaching in a rural area school and she did not make enough money to sustain us all. How could ever make as much money as I was making now? Now that I have confessed in the news paper that I am a liar and too stupid to spell even simple words, my wife is already humiliated, and now, without my income we will be evicted, homeless, living under a bridge.

It was like my world had seemed stable, but suddenly the bottom fell out and everything was going down the chute.

Over the two weeks I was suspended I moved to a cheaper place. The move was not connected to suspension, it was something already planned. We went from a house that was in a flood prone area, and we went to the Bluffs of Christina, into a nice rented condo. I had enough time to both move all our stuff and to think about what had happened. Maybe I was supposed to think about what had happened and feel ashamed. I did, of course, feel tons of shame, I was crushed by ignominious shame, but somehow, I also got angry.

I was angry about being suspended, of course, and to be angry you have to shift blame. I didn't shift the blame totally, I didn't shift ALL the blame, but I did shift some of the blame back to Betsy. The blame sort of shifted back and forth as it it was mounted on wheels and being transported by sea.

Obviously I am the one who can't spell, so the blame belongs to me. Mostly. After all, I never became proficient at something most 9 year old children do pretty well. But I was ordered to lie by the president of PEA and suspended without pay for two weeks not for my spelling, but for lying.

I listened to a voice inside my head. It was me chewing my own ass off, but the  voice I heard saying these words sounded like my father's voice:

• Stupid, stupid, stupid.
• You can read. Why can't you spell?
• You didn't proof because you are too lazy.
• No, you are too dumb to proof what you write.
• You did proof that document. You were just too dumb to see the misspellings when they were right in front of your stupid idiot face.

I was also terrified. I was living with the Impostor Syndrome. I've lived with this fear that one day people would find out that I am a fuckin' fake, and that fear had come to past. I was earning the most money I've ever had, and now I have been publicly exposed as the incompetent fraud that I am. Who is going to hire me now? There is no hero out there to rescue me. This is all real and it is real horrible. I was seeing me and my family living under a bridge, making coffee with creek water, and heating with twigs burned in an old rusty bucket.

“There were many terrible things in my life and most of them never happened.”

― Michel de Montaigne

I wasn't fired

I went back to work after my suspension and tried to be perfect. That was hard for me. I am not only NOT perfect, but I have been know to misspell the word perfect.

The Crime

One day Betsy met with Pearl behind the closed door of her office. The air felt thick, as if the pressure inside the PEA building was compressed.

Something bad was happening. I felt it. Vicki and Tamari felt it. No one said anything but it was clear something was going on and we were waiting for a dragon to appear, blow fire in our faces and burn off our eyebrows.

After an hour, Pearl comes out looking like she'd just done 8 rounds with George Foreman. The young George Foreman, not the one selling electric grills.

Pearl calls the girls in to her office and the waiting continued.

Eventually, Vicki passes my office and asks me to meet off premises. We went to a local resturant and not only were both secretaries there, but Pearl was there as well.

“The girls are getting railroaded,” Pearl said, as I approached the gathering.

What happened is this: Betsy had gone through the files and found transcripts from the local diploma mill collage where Vicki and Tamari were taking business classes.

The negotiated agreement between PEA and the secretaries stated that PEA would pay the secretaries $100 for first three 'A's and up to $50 for up to three 'B's, as long as the course work was required to achieve a business degree.

Betsy had taken the transcripts in the file out to the college and compared every transcript in the PEA files against the transcripts on file with the school registrar's office. Betsy found discrepancies in several semester transcripts where there was an 'A' on the PEA transcript, but the registrar's official transcripts showed the grades were actually 'B's. The difference in money was enough to justify involving law enforcement.

When Betsy showed me the transcript, Pearl said, I could tell immediately that they were copies. I said, 'Where are the originals?'

Pearl also pointed out that all of the originaltranscripts were accurate, and the only transcripts that had discrepancies were the ones that were not original.

I never accepted a copy, not one time, Pearl said. There were transcripts where the secretaries had earned A's and 'B's that they had not asked for compensation.

The thing is, Vicki said, why would we doctor a grade and apply for money when we had other courses that we had 'A's or 'B's that we could have used to get money.

Tamari pointed out, We were only allowed to seek pay for the first three 'A's or 'B's. We had no need to doctor the transcripts because we had enough high grades to get the maximum money we could have gotten without doctoring the transcripts.

Pearl popped in again saying, But I never was given, and never filed copies of transcripts. The transcripts always had to be true notarized transcripts.

Well, what did Betsy say when you pointed out that you had original notarized transcripts? I asked.

She thinks I was part of the fraud, Pearl said. She didn't outright accuse me, but she implied it. I think Betsy is trying to use that to get rid of all the black employees of PEA.

The following day Betsy was on the phone to Tallahassee. When calls came in to her, the calls were coming from the Florida Education Association lawyers.

Betsy came out and faxed six pages of something. When a call came in Betsy went inside her office and shut the door for privacy. Later in the day Betsy was behind closed doors with JT her favorite staff member. Suddenly the fax machine stirred to life and started spewing papers. Vicki and I was there and we were both watching the fax machine. Six pages came out of the fax machine.

We waited. We watched the door of Betsy's office. A light was on one of the lines, we could see that because the line in use would light up on every other phone in the office.

Without waiting any longer, I scooped up the pages and saw that this was a speech and the lawyers in Tallahassee had made changes to the document. Betsy was going to make a speech at the next building representative meeting, and she wanted input from the lawyers to keep her safe.

I took the papers to a copy machine and made a copy. I folded the copy and put it in my back pocket, then I returned the pages to the fax machine. Vicki and I cleared out like were were no where around the fax machine.

A few minutes later Betsy comes out of her office and scoops up the corrected speech and returned to her office.

The Plan

Vicki and Tamari met at my house and we read over Betsy's speech. The speech explained to the members that there were discrepancies in the grade transcripts the secretaries had turned in to the Board. Betsy had some other allegations showing that there were examples of poor work or out right fraud that she was blaming on the secretaries.

Together we made a single sheet handout that took each allegation made by Betsy and gave the secretaries' side. Vicki had been around the union for over 15 years so she was good at advocating for herself, and to counter effectively each and every allegation made by Betsy.

Vicki was able to go to the PEA office late on a Sunday night and making 53 copies of her handout, one for each elected building representative.

When the meeting was held the following Tuesday, Vicki, Tamari, and Vicki's teenage son, Jermain were outside the PEA building passing out their handout.

Prior to the meeting I was talking with one of the black building reps and I looked up and Betsy was looking at me and her eyes were big. She had an expression on her face like she'd just stepped on a slug barefooted.

I got out of there. Standing in the back I started listening to Betsy's speech. As she talked and made an allegation the building reps could look down at their paper and see a bullet response giving a counter response that placed the secretaries in a more favorable light.

When Betsy got to her third allegations it was clear to the building reps that there was trouble in the PEA office.

Liston, said one representative, I pay you guys $350 a year in dues and you guys have expense accounts, and you have parties and have booze and now you guys are fighting and accusing each other of wrong doing. The representative was clearly pissed off. I don't know what the problems are here, but I want them solved. You guys need to be working on making our jobs better, or why do we keep paying dues?

One of the black building reps stood in an almost royal way and said, It seems like you have a problem with black people, Ms Betsy Reeves.

People were talking over each other and the meeting deteriorated. Chaos was putting it might fuckin' lightly.

One of the previous Presidents of PEA, Joe Mid stood up and brought the meeting under some sort of control. He made a motion that PEA request the state association to send someone to look into the problems here and to give an report to the delegates in a timely manner.

This outsider assessment looked hopeful to us, but we already knew the state folk were helping Betsy write her speech. The state was not exactly an impartial third party.

It turned out, the following day, would make this outsider assessment a mute point.

The following afternoon Vicki, entered my office and shut the door. 

We're going to be arrested, she said.  Pearl told me.

I didn't know what to say.

We need an attorney, said Vicki.

Have you got someone in mind? I asked.

Elijah Jones, Vicki said. He's the previous head of Polk County's NAACP office, and he does criminal law. But I called his office. He won't even talk to us unless we can give him a $200 deposit.

Wait here, I said.

I drove down to my bank and withdrew $200 cash. I returned to the office and gave it to Vicki.

Vicki and Tamari got permission from Pearl to leave early and they headed to Elijah Jones' office.

The secretaries were not arrested that day. They weren't arrested the following day. We started to think maybe the arrest thing was just a threat. The third day after we heard they would be arrested, they were actually arrested.

Two officers entered the PEA office, told the girls they were under arrest, they were handcuffed, and taken away.

The secretaries were also fired at the time of their arrest based on something in their negotiated agreement about getting arrested.

The day of the arrests I was feeling crushed, and fed up. To me this was racism. I kept thinking about Pearl saying – Where are the originals? and to me, this made it clear that the secretaries were being framed.

I decided to head home.

As I got to my car, Betsy comes stomping out of the office like she is going to kill a chicken for supper. Betsy got to my car and verbally exploded.

I need to talk to you Mister, she said and her voice was like broken glass, and she made her lips move in an exaggerated manner. You told me you were not mixed up in this mess, but your involved in this shit up to your eyeballs.

I decided if I was going to keep getting paid I needed to follow the advice I would give any teacher member in trouble: deny, deny, deny.

I don't know what you are talking about, I said.

I saw you talking to the black building reps, she said.

Did you see me talk to any white building reps? I asked.

You are part of this conspiracy to destroy me, Betsy said, and she was close to a shout.

No, Betsy, I said. I'm not.

You are. I know it and you know it too.

You think you know, I said, but you don't know.

Betsy tried to burn holes through me with her big blue eyes framed by her big fake eyelashes, and suddenly she spun around and walked like a marionette back to the PEA office.

Two days later I got a call from Vicki. She was traumatized by the arrest.

They striped me of my clothes, said Vicki. They made me spread my butt open while being bent over. They made me spread my vagina open. I said naked in a holding room for three hours.

It was clear this was a more unpleasant experience than she was prepared to endure. Elijah Jones got the girls out on a low bail the following day. This was put on their tab and when the girls couldn't pay him anything more, he fired them as clients.

What I knew was that I had to get out of my job at PEA. The longer I remained with PEA the more likely it was that I would get my ass fired.

I was terrified of being fired. In my mind, if you get fired, you may not be able to get another job, ever.

I went home and explained to Kathie that I needed to find a new job.

I was imagining going to some other state and continuing my work as a UniServ Director.

Kathie was firm.

I don't want to move, she said.

I can't stay with PEA, I explained, but this explaining was coming to me, not from me.  I was getting it.  I was going to have to stay in Lakeland and find some other form of work. 

Ryan is about to enter High School, she said. You know how you felt about your father moving you around form school to school.

I did know.

I want you to commit to staying here until Ryan gets out of high school.

I could feel a sinking feeling in my gut, but I also knew the cause. I agreed with Kathie. My wife was right, and no matter how much I didn't like it, I knew I needed to stay where I was and keep Ryan in the same school until he graduated.

I didn't know what I could do to make money. I came to Florida for a big salary. When I got involved with the teachers union, I had two goals: to get myself out of the classroom, and to earn as much money as possible to provide for my wife and son.

I had paid a high price to chase the money. I worked hard. A 60 hour week was not unusual. I even did a 90 hour week a couple of times. I was not around. I was leaving before Ryan got up for school and I was coming home after everyone was asleep. What could I do, if I had to give up my job with the union? I could not make the same salary doing anything else.

I told Kathie I would stay, but I was afraid.

It came to me that I could go to the Superintendent, who liked me, and asked him if he could give me a job.

This led to another mess.

THE DRAMA TEACHER

The superintendent was very receptive. He actually created a position perfect for me: Board Investigator. When allegations were made against a member of the staff, I would be the one to investigate that for the superintendent and the board.

What I will do, said the superintendent, is give you a teacher position at the new high school. Then once I get this new position approved by the school board I'll hold interviews, but you will be our choice.

That was great. I went to see the principal of George Jenkins High School. He understood that I was only going to be there for a couple of weeks, and he was fine with that. He told me I would be teaching English and have one class of drama.

I resigned from PEA and showed up on opening day at the brand new high school, George Jenkins High School, named for the entrepreneur who created the Publix supermarket chain.

I liked the plan. The salary was going to be higher than what I'd been making at PEA. I could not believe my luck. How fortunate. How wonderful.

I was foolish. You know the old saying, If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

I was called out of the classroom, on the first day of school. It was one of the superintendent's close companions.

I am sorry, tex, he said. We are not going to be able to put you in the Board Investigator position.

What?

PEA got wind that you were up for this job. Betsy contacted the Superintendent and made it clear that PEA would make waves for the superintendent if he hired you.

I was sick. The one thing I did not want was to be trapped back in the classroom, that had happened.

At the end of the day, Mr. Richards, the principal called me to the office. He was trying to cheer me up.

It seems that you and I are meant to work together, the principal said.

I'm sorry, I said. I know didn't choose me to work here.

I didn't choose you, Mr. Richards said, but the way things have unfolded, I think God wanted you to be here. That's good enough for me.

I thanked Mr. Richards and went home. I went home with Ryan. I was going to be teaching at the same school Ryan was attending.

I was going to have to make the best of it. I was going to be teaching school.

A month into the job I found out that the secretaries were on trial, and I was subpoenaed as a witness.

I felt like Sisyphus with a huge weight to push up a steep mountain. I believed the secretaries were innocent, and I wanted to do whatever I could to help them.

It did cross my mind that they might be guilty, but lots of times you just don't know what is the truth and what is false.

What is a person supposed to do when you don't know what is true? This was not an unusual problem for me. It seemed like it happened all the time. How often have I faced some problem and not known what to do.

Loyalty is one reason I might pick a side, but loyalty does not make the secretaries innocent. I had Pearl claiming that she accepted an official transcript and that now the transcripts were copies. But that is not proof. Pearl's claim is enough to create reasonable doubt in my mind.

I should also add that I was still pissed off at Betsy, who suspended me for doing what she ordered me to do. And I liked the secretaries.

I think the only thing I can do is advocate for the secretaries. I have always been a poor advocate for myself, but I found that I can advocate for others. At times I have surprised myself and found myself a pretty damn good advocate. What I learned through all my teacher union work is that when you advocate for someone you go 100 percent towards achieving positive results for the person for whom you are advocating.

I don't know how, but the most renowned criminal attorney in Polk County, and actually renowned throughout the state, was Bobby Joe Thrasher. Thrasher is also one of the more expensive attorneys. Thrasher was representing the secretaries pro bono.

I got to the court room and Thrasher wanted to go over what testimony I could give. He asked me a series of questions and then stopped me suddenly and said, I won't be calling you.

This was actually good for me, because that meant I was allowed to enter the court room to watch the trial.

I found myself about six people away from Betsy Keen. Our eyes met, but Betsy showed no emotion, her face was frozen like it was a plaster cast. I couldn't see my own face, so I don't know if I was holding a black expression, or if I looked nauseated and wishing I could vomit.

The trial had actually started the day before, but I couldn't get off school since my subpoenaed was specific to today.

Thrasher called JT to the stand.

I was surprised that when the oath was administered.

Raise your right hand, said the bailiff.

I saw JT comply.

Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth under pains and penalties of perjury?

I couldn't believe my ears. They left out the so help me god part.

I do, said JT and he had this look on his face that said, this is a big joke and I'm about to nail the bitches coffins shut.

There were some routine questions to establish who JT was, what he did at PEA and how he might have witnessed Tamari doctoring the transcript. JT had apparently already testified that he was at the coffee maker and looked over and saw that Tamari was placing a cut and paste paper on the copier and making a fake copy.

Thrasher seemed puzzled.

When you saw this. When you saw my client copying a cut and paste college transcript did you say anything to PEA president Betsy Keen?

No, answered JT.

No? Why not?

Well, JT says as he shifts his weight in the witness chair, I didn't know the significance of what I was seeing at the time.

No?

No.

Can you think of any reason why anyone would make a cut and paste version of their college transcript that would not be suspicious? Thresher seemed genuinely surprised.

I didn't really think about it, JT answered.

Now when was this. When you saw this doctoring of college transcripts?

I don't remember the exact date or anything.

Well, about when did this happen?

Like I said, said JT, I don't remember exactly when it happened.

Thrasher wouldn't let this go.

Well, Mr. Parker, was it before the secretaries were arrested?

Yes, he said.

How much before?

A little while before?

Well, Mr. JT Parker, Thrasher said, the transcripts covered three semesters. The school year consisted of two semesters, wouldn't that be right?

I suppose so, said JT

So it stands to reason that if the girls were perpetuating a fraud it had to be at least say, one year ago, and as long as a year and a half maybe.

That could be, admitted JT.

 

The prosecutor made some sort of objection based that the witness had already said he couldn't remember, some sort of asked and answered thing.

The judge overruled the objection.

Well, Mr. Parker, Thresher said, can you remember if it was in the summer or the winter?

It seems like it may have been in the summer, JT said.

Where were you in relation to Tamari and and that copy machine?

I was at the coffee maker, said JT.

And was the copier in the same room as the copy maker?

Was this a big room or a small room? Thresher asked.

It was a big room, said JT. Sort of.

Sort of? What does that mean?

Well, it is an area at the back of the big meeting room where building representatives meet. That room has to be big enough to house 77 building Representatives, the Executive Board, and others. At the back of the room is a sort of break room, and we have folding walls that can be used to close of that area from the big meeting room, or it can be left open and that makes the area a big area.

How interesting, Thresher commented. Well, he continued, is the copier right next to the coffee machine?

No.

About how far from the coffee machine is the copy machine?

I don't know, exactly.

Can you guess? I mean take this court room. If the coffee machine were this witness box, what in this court room would be about as far from you as that copy machine was from you?

JT looked around and smirked. He had a smirk that would make his own mama want to slap him.

I would say the copy machine was maybe as far as where the prosecutor's table is located.

Thresher went to his own table, picked up a piece of paper, with something typed on it. Thresher walked over and stood next to the prosecutor, held up the paper and asked, Mr. Parker. Can you tell me if this paper is a college transcript of if it is something else?

I can't tell, answered JT. He knew he had been had.

Do you wear glasses Mr. Parker, perhaps if you wore them you would be able to tell.

No, JT said in a stage whisper. I don't wear glasses.

Perhaps you should consider getting glasses, said Thresher. 

Thresher had scored a point, which I could tell was obvious to everyone, because there was a rumble of people making low comments to one another, but Thresher needed to bayonet the wounded.

Do you still claim you could see what that secretary was doing over at the copy machine.

Yes, JTTsaid taking the philosophy that once you tell your lie you stick with your lie.

So you are telling this jury that you knew the secretary had doctored at least one college transcript, and when you saw that you did not tell the president of PEA?

When the president met with Executive Director Pearl to accuse the secretaries of fraud, did you tell her then that you had seen with your own eyes one of them copying a cut and paste transcript.

No, said JT.

Well, Mr. Parker, asked Thresher. When did you finally decide to tell someone what you had seen?

Well, JT said, it was when the prosecutor's office told Betsy Keen that they didn't think they had enough to move forward with an arrest.

So you waited until it looked like the secretaries were not going to be arrested, and at the last moment you finally decided to share what you'd seen. Is that what you are saying?

JT just sat there.

Mr. Parker. You seem to have been extremely tardy with this information. Would you agree with me that had you not come out with this eye witness testimony that we would not be in this court room today.

The prosecutor objected saying JT wasn't a lawyer and wouldn't have the background to answer such a question.

That objection was sustained.

 

Did you like the PEA President Betsy Keen? asked Thresher.

Yes, said JT.

Well, asked Thresher, would you say you liked the current president better than the previous president?

Yeah, I guess, said JT.

Would you say you and Betsy Keen  were friends?

Yeah, JT said, we were friends.

Then can you explain why your friend, and your boss was having all these concerns about the secretaries, and she believed they had perpetrated a fraud against PEA, and she was having trouble coming up with enough evidence to get the DA's Office to file charges against the secretaries and during all that time, you claim to have seen one of those secretaries creating a fake transcript and yet you never said one word about it to anyone until the DA's office said they were not going to file due to insufficient evidence? Can you explain why you held on to that important information for so long?

Well, JT said, and you could see he was squirming, I guess I just didn't want to get involved unless I absolutely had to.

Mr. Parker, Thresher said, looking him right in the face, his eyes baring down on him, I find your answer unpersuasive. No further questions, Your Honor.

The jury was out one hour.

When the jury came in, and the court was called back into session, I saw the secretaries standing there looking like they were before a firing squad.

I can't remember what happened exactly. I looked over and saw Betsy sitting across the aisle and two from where I was sitting. We locked eyes again, and this time Betsy looked afraid.

The verdict was not guilty.

As soon as the not guilty was uttered the two girls crumpled to their knees, they started to cry loudly thanking God, and saying a lot of stuff I could not understand because they were completely out of control emotionally.

I looked over to see Betsy and she was already gone. She fled the court room immediately.

The secretaries tried to sue and get some money for being falsely accused. They hired a lawyer to do that, and from time to time I would hear about something about to happen. Nothing ever happened. The last time I heard anything, Vicki was on welfare, and Tamari and her husband had moved to Jacksonville.