The M.I.L.F. Man

Strike one...

Chas went with this time. Wouldn't take "No" for an answer.

Sat to my right, mean mugging the district communication director. And my university advisor, Leonora Wesley, a former assistant superintendent in another district, sat back in her seat to my left, giving off some serious "angry parent" attitude.

The young director, Federico Fernández, had done PR for some big bank somewhere before landing this gig. And he looked the part, all sharp in suit and tie and one of those fancy watches that cost more than your car.

And he put on his best car salesman smile and said, "Let's just cut to the chase, okay? The district is aware that you can't control the media any better than we can. And that course was created by our own curriculum developers—you improved it a great deal, but it was designed and implemented by us. And we will continue to teach it."

I relaxed some then. And said, "Glad you're not backing down."

"Well, what those kids did...Willie set them off at that meeting she held. Gave them a focal point for all that anger—a target. But we mishandled your placement. My office should've been involved from jump—a heads up would've been nice, too."

He sort of winked at Leonora when he said that last thing. And she tilted her head as if to say, "Oh, really?"

So Rico—that's what he told us to call him—smiled and looked my way again. "Look, we know your work. You've worked with us—our summer meals program...those schools couldn't have done it for the past two years without you guys. We just didn't have the budget for it. But things have changed a little bit for you, right?"

It was my turn to tilt my head. And he smiled and said, "Here's the thing. Had your father or mother-in-law requested a visit, I would've been called upon to create an itinerary and to escort them for the duration. I mean, the superintendent would've met them at the door. Comprendes?"

Chas raised his chin. And said, in Spanish, "So, she would've been...handled, correct? Safely placed in some...idyllic, idealized setting?"

Rico's smile did that flickery thing light bulbs do just before they go out for good. Having discovered that my boo was wise to the little "I see you, sista" code switch trick.

I touched the hand Chas had placed on my arm. "I chose Valencia. I'll probably apply there, once I'm certified—is that going to be a problem?"

Rico turned up that smile a few watts. Trying to "blind" me so I wouldn't catch the truth behind his next "speech.

"Right now, we've got to help you fulfill those university requirements. That's our number one objective. Valencia will reopen next week, but...it'll be going through some big changes."

"Teachable moment for her," Leonora said. "This is how we're livin' now."

Rico nodded. "I hear you." And then he looked at me again. "But Walther has the security and, most of all, the desire to take this bull by the horns. See, we need a school like that to take this course—may I call you--"

"Cielo."

He looked at Chas then. And enunciated every syllable of, "Con su permiso, señor." (With your permission).

But Chas just kept that icy glare steady. "Talk to us about this Walther Academy. What's so special?"

"It's a lab school. Gifted and talented. Supported by the university, in fact. Lots of amazing educational research going on there—innovative approaches. But the main selling point is that the parents have actually asked to have more classes like the one she's teaching. Taught by someone from the cultures it covers. If you..."