Conference: Day 0

I'm in the Bay Area for a teaching conference on reaching African-American at-risk youth. It begins tomorrow at 8:00am, so our Principal managed to get funding to put us up--in a nice hotel--for two nights.

I left Sacramento at 3pm, and actually--and I say this as someone who rolls his eyes at how much my wife says she misses me when she travels for work--missed my wife within minutes of getting on the road. Traffic was wonderfully light; Emeryville was a breeze. My longest slowdown occurred in Davis, where someone apparently ran their car off the road and flipped it.

About ten minutes after I got here, I heard my Principal, Beate (bee-AH-tay) and the Counselor/Literacy Coach (and one of my "bosses" even though she hasn't got the actual hire/fire power) talking next door, so I stuck my head around and talked to them. After about 45 minutes of talking to them like that, they got me to come over and share a bottle of champagne with them, and we had a nice conversation about religion, teaching, and general stuff. Then we decided, at about 9:00, to go to dinner. On our way out we found Judy, our RSP (Resource Services Provider, or "special ed" for students who aren't in dire need of support, but need an extra hand), and headed off to Trader Vics.

We had the best fracking dinner I've had in a long time. I had a Filet of Beef, cooked to a perfect Medium Rare, with a potato cake (heavenly, I tell you!) and asparagus (Carol stole one of mine! I'll get revenge eventually). I also had a glass of a very nice Mendocino Syrah that complemented my dinner perfectly, as well as a margarita made with The Good Stuff. It was a fantastic dinner, and a great time--the four of us were talking and laughing so hard that my face hurt. It was great to hang out with my bosses away from the office.

One thing of note: we were talking about our school's office manager, who is a bit of a pain in the ass and is actively trying to undermine the school's administration. She specifically--and publically--said that the only reason she's coming back next year is to spite the administrator. She had been going off a while back, telling me that "You think they're your friends, but you're an idiot." I mentioned that, although I like them both, I don't really see them as my friends, but as coworkers I like whom I hope will someday be friends. Carol said "Michael, if you weren't someone I wanted as a friend, you wouldn't be sharing my champagne." We talked about some sticky issues we've had over the last couple of months, including something she did that disturbed my faith in her as an admin, and her answers went a long way towards reassuring me as to her reliability.

I was a little bit worried about the bill, as my entree was over $30, (I had no idea the place was that expensive until it was too late), but I figured "Eh. I'll be ok--tomorrow I'll go find something cheaper by myself." When it came, however, the Principal took it and wouldn't let us see it. "Would it be futile," I asked, "to ask how much I owe you?"

"What you owe me?" she said, looking at me quizzically. "You owe me coming back to teach next year."

What could I do? I thanked her and continued with the evening.

And now I go to bed.

Tomorrow: Our hero attends the conference!