Wayward and The Turning Tide

“That woman is pursued by demons,” Wally Brigley, the Board chair, declared as he settled into Tim Endibel’s office, plonked his Starbucks cup down on the desk, and eyed the package of mince pies on the coffee table.

“Have one,” Tim said.

Wally didn’t hesitate, unwrapping the cellophane and taking a bite.

“So, what did our Vonnie Braydune want this time? Which precious child didn’t receive straight A’s on the midterms?”

Tim suppressed a sigh. “We don’t do midterms at Wayward St. Etheldreda’s anymore,” he said. “That was part of the new initiatives introduced this Fall. Remember? We discussed this at length over the summer.”

And Wally did remember—an interminable meeting where people droned on about authentic assessment and equitable grading outcomes. He recalled that new hire with the ridiculous name talking about grading as oppression, and students as “co-creators of their academic reality.”

He had even written down one of the best phrases from that former diversity woman, who, with a practiced sigh that Wally found highly irritating, had declared, “Grades are arbitrary hierarchies that perpetuate systems of exclusion.”

Even the usually sensible Midge Hazelbrow had chimed in, calling assessment “more of a conversation” and adding, “Grace under pressure is good, but if you keep pulling up a seed to check if it’s growing, it never will.” At the time, those words had seemed wise enough to settle the matter.

“What’s the name of the new curriculum fellow?”

“Brian. Brian Russell. He’s been here two years now. His title is ‘Chief of Innovation and Academic Program.’”

“I thought his name was Sprout.”

“When your last name is Russell and your parents give you a first name starting with ‘B,’ the nickname is inevitable,” Tim explained. “I don’t think he likes it.”

“Would Sprout be responsible for writing this?” Wally pulled a Post-It note from his pocket and read: ‘True assessment centers lived experiences and celebrates the kaleidoscope of each student’s unique learning journey. It’s not about reducing their unique brilliance to a letter on a transcript.’

“That’s from our statement of philosophy,” said Tim, feeling defensive. “It was a collaborative effort to represent our collective thinking and approach to learning. The board approved it in June.”

“Did we? Well, this Sprout—where did we get him from? Is he any good?”

“From Winthrop-Chase. Before that, he was at All Saints. Highly recommended. He’s working on several initiatives, including the plan to renovate St. Eth’s chapel as a STEAM hub after the asbestos removal.”

“Good, good. So, back to our Veronica. What’s the story?”Wally leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s not another poison dwarf incident, is it? That man’s a Pied Piper.”

Tim shuddered at the memory of Hamilton Braydon’s musical performance fiasco. “No,” he said. “College.”

Wally raised an eyebrow. “College? What about college?”

“Veronica thinks that since her husband went to Yale, Evan should have been accepted early action at Amherst. She’s demanding to know what went wrong in the College Office.”

Wally laughed, brushing mince pie crumbs from his trousers. “Logical. Her buffoon of a husband got into Yale as a legacy, and her son’s a blockhead.”

Tim winced. He didn’t like students being called blockheads. “Evan has had his struggles,” he said.

“Well, I hope he has some safeties on his list,” Wally said.

“Oh yes—the College Office ensured that. He is a full payer.. Also… pronouns.”

“Pronouns? What about pronouns?” Wally asked, reaching for his coffee.

“French pronouns. Apparently, we’re teaching gender-neutral, non-binary pronouns in French class.. Veronica doesn’t like them. She spent a semester at the Sorbonne and considers herself an expert on the subject.”

Wally snorted. “She buys her tote bags in Paris. But what on earth are gender-whatsit pronouns in French? I mean, chairs and tables are male or female over there, aren’t they?”

Tim wasn’t a linguist but knew about the gendered nature of the French language. “Language changes over time,” he said smoothly although he didn’t think French did so much.

“I’ll have Brian follow up. It’s the new French teacher, Gloria Flosdorf. She’s very up-to-date with current trends in language teaching. She’s from Michigan “

“Well, that’s actually why I came by,” said Wally. “Not Michigan, of course, but I was talking with the Executive Committee last week. We have some concerns.”

Tim was immediately alert. Ad hoc meetings of the Executive Committee without him were always a warning sign.

“You saw this, of course.” Wally held up his phone to show last week’s story in the New York Star.

“Yes.” Tim had seen it the moment it went live. He had a Google alert for every mention of the school and hadn’t been able to escape the Communications Office’s bizarre excitement over the coverage.

The headline read: Wayward Goes Woke: Prep School Uproar Over Kindergarten Curriculum.

“You’ve got a mole,” Wally said darkly. “Someone’s leaking this stuff to the papers. You need to find out who it is and fire them. Things are going off the rails, and it’s time for a course correction before the school gets lost in the weeds now that the tide is turning on this woke business.”

Tim chose his words carefully. “I think it’s important we work on this together. I wouldn’t like to see the board get too deep into the weeds here.”

“I’m with you there,” said Wally. “But if the school didn’t grow the weeds, we wouldn’t have to wade through them. I’ll talk to Pursy about setting up a meeting in the New Year to lay out the concerns and get things moving in a good direction.”

“How’s enrollment, by the way?” Wally asked, signaling the end of the conversation as he reached for his coat.

“Still early days,” Tim said, forcing cheerfulness. “There are some encouraging signs from the open houses, and the new viewbook is performing well. Kindergarten seems a bit light, but with Archibald Wells closing, we’re talking with them about middle school.”

“Good, good. Got to go. Office party tonight. I’ll see you in January. Thanks for the mince pie. Very tasty.”

As the door closed behind Wally, Tim sighed. Outside, snow had begun to fall. The board’s talk of “new directions” was not encouraging, and rallying the senior leadership team to face the storm ahead would be an uphill battle at best.