September 27, 2004

Ivana new school

A quick update from the hurricane backwash city of Atlanta, Georgia.

It appears that Ivan (and perhaps the 20 years of mismanagement and poor maintanence of the facility) have combined to make our child's school uninhabitable.

Imagine, if you will, driving happily to carpool Friday afternoon to pick up your little cherub only to discover, from a note stuffed in her backpack, that the school has been having some "water intrusion" (terror alert orange!) and "air quality" problems from the hurricane we borrowed, and the Powers Who Be (plus the guys in hazmet suits) decided to close the school today so the children would not be vaporized as we all wait with baited breath for lab results.

Okay. I can do that. No school Monday. That's cool. Don't want to send her into a poison factory. Wondering now. What the hell is really going on? Thinking. Thinking about how sick she's been these last two years. Starting to watch my blood pressure rise. Trying to keep it cool.

Pick up the phone yesterday (that would be Sunday) and there's a message from "calling post", which apparently lets you leave voice mails for a group of people you REALLY don't want to speak to in person because they'd chew your ass off.

The message was from the Principal who had met with the board (this is a privatized public school, if you remember), and possibly the landlord (the building's leased), and decided to close the school all of this week, and, well, possibly forever.

Wow. Okay. How 'bout that. Huh.

As they "aggressively seek" an alternate location for the school, I decided to drive by there today. I saw the cafeteria windows had been sealed up with terrorist-proof plastic sheeting, each sheet with a big billowing hole in the middle, puffing air to the outside. No one was inside. No one was working on it. It was deserted.

WHAT THE FUCK IS INSIDE THAT SCHOOL?!?!

All the crap they've given me for her sick days and asthma last year and already this year--and you mean to tell me there's something toxic enough inside those walls to have scared all human activity away?

Okay. Not going postal. Not yet.

Wait and see. Could be a simple explanation.

Waiting.

Seeing.

Seething.

Anyone who's been through something remotely similar or has ideas, please share.

Thanks.