Sci-Fi Saved My Day

By Lisa Fary
I tend to think of my adversaries, whether they’re people or an event, as tangible foes to be reckoned with. If it’s a person, I have to give them villainous traits. If it’s an event, I have to personify it.

This week, my foe is an event: my state’s high stakes testing push. For my current school, it’s a Xanadu production number when compared to traditional schools where they have an actual building with real classrooms and a cafeteria. For most brick and mortar schools, the kids show up as per usual, test, and go about their day. For us, we’re an online school; anytime students are required to leave home is a big to do, requiring song and dance numbers, costume changes, and possibly Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly prancing around, directing parents to rooms and fetching extra test books.

So, that creates challenges with locations, scheduling, space and staffing. I happened to find myself in the position of coordinating special education students at a huge, high profile site. I’m not quite sure how this happened. Who around here got the idea that I’m a responsible person? Sure, I performed this duty at testing last year, but there were half as many kids at the test site then and plenty of space. This year, the number of students have doubled, two rookie site coordinators have been put in charge, and there is seriously no more room at the inn.

Looking at the list of kids and their needs as outlined in the IEPs compared to the resources available, I was in a tight spot. Sort of had a panic attack about it on Friday afternoon and got really wigged out about logistics and how my team was going to meet the needs of the students we were assigned.

Thank god for John, though. He made me stop staring at the color coded spreadsheet and take a break on Friday night, gather my wits. We watched an old episode of Young Justice, and as Superboy tried to fly up an elevator shaft and fell, this stood out:

I’m falling. Superman can fly. Why can’t I fly?

Because I’m not Superman. I have to work with what I have, but even if I can’t fly or leap a building in a single bound, I can still leap as high as I can. A few inches is better than nothing.

Then, when I was about to go back to work, John said, “Why don’t you watch the Doctor Who Christmas special?” (We still had that on DVR). Well, I hadn’t planned on watching it again until this December, but whatever. Doctor Who seemed like a damned good idea. The Doctor always finds a way.

I can do it, I thought. I am the Doctor. Except I’m never wearing a bowtie.

After The Doctor saved Cataran and Amy and Rory, I was about to go back to work. John popped back in the living room and said, “How about Serenity? It’s been a while since you’ve watched that.” It had been. And since the Science Channel had begun airing Firefly on Sunday nights, I’d been in the mood to watch the movie.

So, I watched Serenity.

And, oddly, I found what I what I needed to say to my team:

Y’all got on this boat for different reasons, but y’all come to the same place. So now I’m asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all.

Indeed. I was going to be asking more of my team than ever before. But, Mal also said,

Sure as I know anything, I know this – they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten? They’ll swing back to the belief that they can make people… better. And I do not hold to that. So no more runnin’. I aim to misbehave.

A reminder that, should we be successful this year with minimal space and teachers, next year they’ll just cut us back further on both fronts. Handle the same number of students and accommodations with less space and fewer teachers. That’s just not going to be possible.

Also a reminder that I have to ignore the guidelines set forth by my school and do what’s right. Knowing what I know, what’s right is written in the IEP and not always in the best interests of the school – it may come as a surprise that the two don’t often go together. I aim to misbehave in the eyes of the school and do what’s outlined in the IEPs, what’s right for the kids in my charge.

By then, I was ready for bed. But, as I turned off the DVD and the TV switched back to cable, I caught the end of Mystery Men, and watched The Shoveler, Mr. Furious, Blue Raja, The Bowler, and Spleen defeat Cassanova Frankenstein and the worst gangs in Champion City through the sword of teamwork and the hammer of not bickering.

Everything I’d watched all night came down to this: in this situation, I am the underdog and I can make it work with an ingenuity that The Powers That Be don’t anticipate. And, if for some reason I can’t make it, well then, you can’t stop the signal. And that’s all I’m willing to say about that.

Regardless, when the kids show up today and ask who the hell I am, I’ll say:

I think you’ll find I’m universally recognised as a mature and responsible adult.

Even though I’m totally not. After all, I’ll be the one wearing a dress with a TARDIS printed on it.

Lisa Fary is a graduate of the creative writing program at Florida State University and holds an advanced degree in Special Education. Her earliest influences are Princess Leia, Rainbow Bright, Astronaut Barbie, and her 6th grade teacher, Ms. Palmer. She’s angry that it’s 2010 and she still doesn’t have a hovercraft, but will accept a jetpack as consolation. That jetpack had better be pink with a rhinestone monogram.

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