Fighting Fire with Fustian

Today I spent four hours in a sauna-like auditorium shoved into a tiny wooden chair that literally left bruises on the backs of my legs, all for the privilege of unloading on the school board that sent me a layoff notice two months ago. I'm not entirely sure what I said (there may have been some podium-fist-pounding and a poker metaphor), but people clapped when I was done and I felt a hell of a lot better.

Weirdly, I'm actually not sure if I'm fired or not. There were amendments to amendments of recisions of incisions, and in the end it was all very Byzantine.** I'll find out Thursday.

In the meantime, I'm pretty sure there are now five people on the planet who would turn tail and run if they saw me in a grocery store. As well they should — I throw a mean cabbage.

** And now your Moment of Zen: According to my union president's address to the board, the last time my district laid of teachers was in 1918 in response to those teachers' refusal to take loyalty oaths.