No Good Deed: Tiny Step #7 The Truth Will Not Set You Free

“Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.” ― Mineko Iwasaki (Japanese Author) 

I woke with a start on November 2, 2010. In that foggy place between sleep and wakefulness I felt a panic I did not understand, and then it came rushing back to me. I wasn’t going to school. I was suspended. I was not to have contact with my students. I was to continue to provide class materials and grade student work and exams. I went through the motions of getting the girls ready and taking them to school. Then I came home. I had calls into CEA president Mike Macri, NEA attorney Lorri Hayes, and my CHS Union Reps. Karen Slick, Charlie Swift and Bill Crowley. They of course were all busy with their lives as I rattled around my house not knowing what to do. As someone who has lived my life surrounded by people on a daily basis the silence of my house was deafening.

I was given a directive by Chris Rath to provide missing information from my booster club bank accounts. Apparently if she could prove I was stealing money it would be easier for her to terminate my employment. Since I was essentially my own booster club this would have been akin to me stealing from myself. I am many things, but I am not a thief. I would spend the better part of the next two weeks on the phone with credit card companies and my bank getting back statements that would account for how I spent the money my teams had raised. After it was all put together I was able to prove that I still owed myself over $1000. That’s right; my own money! If an athlete couldn’t afford a race entry or a sweatshirt I would often buy it for them. If there wasn’t enough in the till for color copies for the Annual Cross-Country Book, I paid for those too. Although I didn’t know it at the time, none of this would matter.

This accusation would be considered fact by Becky Lawrence, the parent who took over my booster club and her then school board member husband Eric Williams. That next summer as I was preparing for the Bill Luti Road Race my co-director would ask me if I had stolen money. He said his sources were “very credible” Becky and Eric belong to Granite State Racing Team. Their daughter ran for me. Although my co-director did not want to acknowledge that I was correct when I gave him the names of his “credible” sources, he agreed that they were the connections between the racing team and the school district. As a board member Eric Williams should have had no knowledge of such an accusation nor should Becky have stated it as fact. This was extremely painful.

Every couple of days I had to go to Concord High, collect student work, and leave substitute plans. I was to do this at night so as to avoid seeing students. I was allowed to do this unattended so long as I went after 8:00pm. One night I was in the main office using the copy machine. I removed mail from my mailbox and slid an envelope of student work under Gene Connolly’s office door. Ben Greene was walking by and saw me through the glass. The next day I was asked by Chris Rath to hand over my keys. We were scheduled to go to my classroom that afternoon to look for bank statements in my office and as we left she requested them. When I asked about doing substitute plans she told me I could coordinate with a Union Representative. She also turned to me as we walked to the elevator and said, “You know you can just resign”. I looked at her dumbfounded. Why on earth would I resign? I hadn’t done anything wrong! The union rep. with me at the time, Bill Crowley would urge me to consider this and even put the sentiment into an email as I was fighting. I really was clueless as I reflect back on these days. He was supposed to be on my side. Mike Macri, on the other hand fought hard for me and Karen Slick provided emotional support. I would need more and more of it.

After arranging time with Karen Slick to escort me to my classroom I received an email from Steve Mello announcing that I would need an administrative escort if I were to enter the building. I had planned on going to CHS that evening to grade exams. I had 125 of them waiting for me. I completely fell apart. I called Gene Connolly at home. He did not answer and I left what must have been an unintelligible message asking him what was going on and why was this happening to me. I was doing everything I was asked to do and Chris Rath was making it harder and harder for me to do it. I went to Karen Slicks house and sobbed. I felt like a criminal and a crazy person. Looking back I can see this is how it all works. The whole process becomes a self- fulfilling prophecy. Chris Rath would bring up my medical leave in a later meeting and express concern that I was unstable. I was acting emotionally because each time I did what I was told; the directive changed, became more difficult, and prevented me from doing what I was supposed to be doing. As with all of this experience, hindsight is 20/20.

The next day I emailed, then called Steve Mello and made arrangements to meet him. We went to my classroom and met then assistant principal Adam Osburn who had brought the “Scantron Machine”. This machine corrects answer sheets comprised of ovals that the students fill in with a pencil. Each sheet was two sides with 100 total questions. It would have taken me 10 minutes at the most to run them through the machine. Just as we were about to get started Gene Connolly stormed into the room and told me I was not supposed to be there and to leave the building immediately. I replied that no, I simply needed an administrative escort, that I only needed 10 minutes to grade the exams and I could do the rest from home.  I told him that was the email directive I had received from Chris via Steve Mello. He pointed his finger at me and told me to leave the school immediately and that I was not to be on school property. He claimed that Chris had just called him and told him this. I pleaded with him to give me ten minutes. He refused.

 I still dream about this episode from time to time. I have a lot of dreams about this experience. Most of them involve Gene in some way or another. I remember running into his wife Patti sometime after I had resigned. She wanted to know if I was okay. She also asked me if Gene had “done anything bad”. She said he wouldn’t talk about it but that he was “a different man” since my resignation. I was honest and said that he broke my heart and that if it weren’t for his actions I would likely have fought for my job.

 At any rate, I left my classroom in tears and corrected all 125 exams by hand. It took the better part of a Saturday. My grades were entered and accurate and on time. I had figured out by then that by making it impossible for me to do my substitute plans and grading as I was requested in my suspension letter Rath would have one more thing to hold against me.

When I showed up on November 15th for what would end up being a “recommendation for dismissal” meeting, my attorney addressed how terribly I had been treated and how inappropriate this behavior was. Gene would deny it and call her comment a “cheap shot” on my part. He would not look at me. None of them would. The meeting was a joke. I had spent two weeks jumping through hoops, collecting evidence, supplying classwork and grades, and basically proving all of their allegations untrue. None of this would even be considered. With every allegation thrown my way, and my response (or my attorney’s response) discrediting it, Rath became angrier and angrier. She finally got around to the bank account and held up a photocopy of a check. The look on her face indicated that she thought she “had me”. She claimed that this check had been cashed, that she had spoken with the mother who wrote the check. She claimed there was no record of it being deposited into my Cross-Country account. It was for clothing that had not yet been ordered. When I asked to see the check it was stamped clear as day “deposited into Sovereign Bank” with a June 2010 date. I am quite sure I had a bit of contempt in my voice as I pointed this out and showed her that it had indeed been deposited into the Track Account.  At this point Rath threw her hands up in the air, turned around and said (as she handed out copies of my “recommendation for dismissal” letter to everyone), I have no choice but to recommend you for dismissal. It was already written. My hard work and proof meant nothing to her. I tried to speak up, I tried to defend myself but my attorney kicked me under the table. I kept my mouth shut.  I did not cry. I was too stunned. If I had actually done any of the things I was accused of, if they had provided evidence of some wrong doing I think I would have at least understood. I don’t know if getting caught doing something wrong would be worse than being accused of doing something wrong. I do know that I had proof that their allegations were false. I had proof that I had not stolen money. I had complied with every request. As I left the building the cold November air had no effect on my face or hands. I remember thinking how strange that felt, to feel the cold air but not feel it at the same time. I couldn’t believe that the truth had not prevailed. I did not understand.

Later on in the summer of 2011, long after I had resigned I ran into Chris Rath’s good friend and college roommate Ann Hyland. I had coached several of Ann’s children over the years. When I first saw her I hid my face. She and Chris maintain a close friendship and I was sure she must have been thinking terrible things about me. She saw me and came over with a big smile. She asked me how I was doing as if nothing was different. I replied that actually I wasn’t so good and hoped that she knew I had not done any of those things I had been accused of doing. She responded that of course she knew that I had not done those things and that Chris had told her what happened was political and professional and had nothing to do with my teaching. My brain clicked like the tumblers in a lock as the pieces fell into place…my dismissal hearing and the actions thereafter that would ultimately scare me into resigning became crystal clear, seven months too late, but absolutely clear. I never had a chance.