happens all the time. The best we can do is move on. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Nobody is ready to move on.”
“I’m not sure that matters. School starts on Monday.”
“Yes. Exactly. And we need a plan for facing that. What we don’t need is a dude walking in here with a water gun.”
“I did what I needed to do.”
“But you didn’t do what anybody else needed you to do. You didn’t meet anyone, you didn’t talk to anyone, you didn’t interact at all or bond.”
“I’m not here to bond.”
“You most certainly are. Do you think you can run this school as a stranger?”
“Do you think you can walk in here and tell me what to do?”
He knew better than this. “Look,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You didn’t know Max. So let me just tell you that he never ran this place as a dictatorship. That’s not how things work here. It’s always been consensus and discussion. This is a highly engaged, very passionate group of people—and part of what makes this school so legendary is everybody working together. Whatever it was you just did in that meeting is not going to fly—not here.”
“What Principal Kempner did or didn’t do isn’t really relevant anymore,” Duncan said then.
“I’m trying to tell you how things work.”
“Things work the way I say they work.”
“If you keep acting like this, you’re going to lose them.”
“What are you saying? That they’ll quit?”
“These are amazing teachers—the best of the best. They could be teaching anywhere.”
“That sounds weirdly like a threat.”
“I’m not threatening you. I’m telling you how it is. They came here to be part of a very special school culture. One that’s all about creativity and encouragement and making learning joyful.”
Duncan was unfazed. “Well, it’s a new culture now.”
He wasn’t taking me seriously. “You have no idea how much you just freaked the entire faculty out.”
“I think I have some idea.”
“And don’t even get me started on the gun.”
“Here it comes.”
“What the hell was that?”
“A water gun,” he said. “And it got their attention, didn’t it?”
“Not in a good way.”
“I’m not here to coddle them.”
“Why are you here?”
“To get this place on track.”
“It’s already on track. It’s one of the best elementary schools in the country. It’s famous for being amazing.”
“It’s also a death trap. And I’m here to fix that. And if they don’t like it, they’re more than welcome to quit—every last one of them. Yourself included.”
But no way was I quitting now. “I can’t quit,” I said.
“Sure you can,” he said, in a tone like I dare you. Then he met my eyes and said, “There is nothing more expendable than teachers.”
Rude. And insulting. Max had spent decades filling this school with superstars—the best of the best of the best. Teachers were anything but expendable. The best teachers lifted kids up with excitement and drive and curiosity—and the worst teachers did the opposite. And no one on earth should have known that better than Duncan Carpenter.
I looked down for a second to try to regroup. What was I even trying to accomplish here? I wanted him to snap out of it. I wanted him to be his old self again. I wanted him to reach his potential. But I didn’t have any leverage. Was he bluffing? If he really didn’t care if everybody quit, I wasn’t sure what to do.
And that’s when I saw something sticking out from under Duncan’s desk.
Something furry.
Something that looked like a paw.
I stepped closer and leaned around to get a better look.
Curled up under the desk was a large, gray, very furry dog—fast asleep.
* * *
In this entire sleek, gray, cold office, the dead-last thing I would’ve expected to see was a fluffy dog—and, of course, the gray fur against the gray carpet had camouflaged it.
“Is that a poodle under your desk?” I asked.
“It’s a labradoodle,” Duncan said, like it was obvious.
I leaned a little closer. “Is it … yours?”
“It’s a security dog,” Duncan said, all business. “A guard dog.”
“It doesn’t look very on guard right now.”
“Even security animals have to rest.”
“Fair enough. What’s its name?”
Duncan stood up a little taller. “Chuck Norris.”
I let out a laugh. Then my face fell. “Oh. You’re serious.”
“He’s in training,” Duncan said, unamused.
“I guess I would have just expected a German shepherd or something. Something scary.”
“This dog is plenty scary,” Duncan said, as we stared at the not-at-all-scary pile of snoozing fluff. “Or at least, he will be when I finish with him.”