The new school year is about to start, time to again look in on Independent School District 352, the Gopherville Public Schools. In the first ten chapters, we met their Board and their frustrated Superintendent, Will Kennicott. His frustration ends when a philanthropic favorite son Paul Riesling offers to close the deficits, avoiding layoffs and avoiding merger with the nearby Zenith district. We resume now at a table in the Circle R where Kennicott and his Zenith counterpart are talking shop over their after dinner coffee.
"Let's back up," said Will Kennicott, Superindent of the Gopherville Public Schools. "You say that you're not going to crawl any more. Do I crawl? Or did I crawl before?"
"Poor choice of word," replied Claire Andrews, Superintendent of the Zenith Public Schools. "I think I said 'beg' initially, and I'll stand by that."
"Still a poor choice of word. I ..."
"No, begging is the word. That's all we really do these days and you know it."
"Claire, Claire," said Kennicott, taking a sip of coffee and leaning back. "Claire, I would have agreed with you even a few weeks ago. I felt much the same as you, I think, perhaps more so. I was thinking of quitting, maybe teach at the college or something."
"And then Paul shows us up and all is forgotten," said Andrews, with the first noticeable edge to her voice all evening.
"Yes, Paul came to my rescue. Not Paul's money, Paul. What you don't know that Paul's first action was to tell me to stop whining and do my job. I damn near threw him out of my office. Once we got that settled - he was right, you know - only then did he go on to make his offer."
"Wow," said Claire softly. "Shows what I know." She straightend. "No, yes, that shows what exactly I'm talking about. We never seem to ever get past the money in this business."
"I'd appreciate you're keeping that in confidence, for Paul's sake."
Andrews smiled. "Of course. But tell me more about what you and Paul got settled."
"He told me to do my job."
"What is your job?"
"He asked me that same question. I said something syrupy about educating our students. He chuckled, told me that's why I was unhappy."
"I don't follow."
"My job is hire those that do educate our students. That takes money. I get that money, anywhere I can get it. That's my job. Oh, I have all those legal and administrative things the laws tell us we need to do. We hand out the diplomas. But ultimately, we sit down at the Wurlitzer, press the various keys, and make it rain money on our District."
"Now I follow. When times are good, you get to do the fun parts. When money's tight, you don't."
"And you myopically start blaming the money itself. It's the only reason you exist. An assistant principal could do the rest."
Andrews finished her coffee. "I wish I'd been there. Maybe Paul would like to give a command performance, for me?" She signaled the waiter.
"Sorry, but I think I'll have to do," chuckled Will Kennicott. The waiter arrived and at her urging, they both ordered a small dish of vanilla ice cream.
"Now let's get back to my plan. I'm going to budget next year based on this year's actual receipts, pure and simple. My Finance Director will do the rest. He'll probably bring in more than we need, and we'll bank the difference."
"Or spend it on diesel for the buses, perhaps."
"Sure. I said I'd budget this way, which gives me reserves to handle surprises like that."
"It's bold. I like it. And you'll be fired in a week."
"Maybe not. Not if you don't tell them. I certainly won't." Their ice cream arrived and she explained her plan in more detail.
"You've thought this through, no question. OK, you'll be fired in two weeks." They both laughed.