Monday, June 13, 2011


To Ms. Nyeka Phillips, you’re a wonder
As our UTLA chairperson who 
Has single-handedly left us plowed under;
And all the while you didn’t have a clue.
As chapter chair you split the school asunder
As ably as Deasy's wrecking crew.
We went from faculty participation
Which, led by you, turned into hibernation.
Your carping, petty style has left me sickened.
You lost disputes no chapter chair should file.
You might have been a chapter chair who quickened
The faculty; but with your juvenile
Approach to our affairs you only thickened
Perceptions that our teachers are servile.
When once, en masse, we went to demonstrations,
You isolated us from convocations.
From Tanner, Forrester, to Dallas Wimer,
We helped prepare the teachers to join in.
You thought because you were a wisenheimer-
(Though really but a petty born-again
Who’s, by the way, become a social climber) -               
Your carping, barbed remarks would help you win
Your way to being a power in the school,
When all they did was prove you were a fool.
You’ve queered relations with administrators
Not least because your crocodile tears
Won’t substitute for arguments debaters
Would never make unless still mouseketeers.
Your crying needs the aid of medicators
To help relieve the stressfulness of fears
That you have had when facing Ms. Malone,
A woman who’s a fighter to the bone.
As to your social climbing, you would be
A principal so you can rule a school.
God help all those not in your coterie,
Which pretty much will mean the average fool.
I wouldn’t kiss your ass on PCP,
If it meant you could send me to Kabul.
As principal, I know you’ll hold a grudge  
And use it when you play “here comes the judge.”
Especially at a time when our profession
Is under fire from Gates and Eli Broad
And all their ilk who think to take possession
Of public schools and turn them their commode,
Denying teachers’ rights to self-expression.
Ms. Phillips, you have played their little toad:
Not organizing teachers to fight back
Is just the same as aiding their attack.
The function of a stalwart union leader
Is organizing members for the trenches;
But you, who are a flatulent secretor,
Have had us sitting two years on the benches.
And so have functioned as our great impeder
Not least, or it’s my guess, because your stench is
So foul an odor such we can’t elude
And so we sit here in dull lassitude.
As well, we sit in dangerous positions
Under the guns of LAUSD
Which is preparing heavy ammunitions
To cannonade us as did Michelle Rhee-
When teachers wouldn’t bow to politicians
Who’d turn the public schools into debris.
Who isn’t for us is against us. So…
I’m happy that it’s time you chose to go.
PS: To Mr. Manikas.  You see
You’ve bigger fish to fry than Ms. Malone.
But organize the South Gate faculty
To stand as if they were a wall of stone;
And like your Greek forefathers build esprit
Against the tyrant Deasy who'd enthrone
Himself against our union and tradition
And send him, with Nyeka, to perdition.
And so I bid the faculty farewell;
And take my big mouth into my retirement.
I didn’t mean to come on so hard-shell
But had to write this rant as a requirement
(Before I hurry off) to help propel
You into understanding what my ire meant:
We are professionals but also workers
Who have to find the strength to be berserkers.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Just like America, the unions will be destroyed from within.