Day 15: 27,520 Fires About to Be Lit

A successful writing session as I try to get ahead in the word count. The kids and I are heading to the real life Jackie's Place and I might take a day off of writing while there. The teachers are still at Jackie's Place, and are sharing some ideas for how they can mess with the administration at Barnaby. Here is some of what they have come up with so far. First, Cody Simpson with a big reveal:

“Okay. So let’s start with VIP WiFi Coordination. My investigation has revealed that as we suspected all along, there is something fishy going on at Barnaby with regards to the WiFi situation. First, the WiFi network is working perfectly well. Brandon from IT was not lying to you about that.” The teachers vigorously disagreed and began to loudly do so, “But, BUT!” Cody Simpson said, raising his voice to silence the teachers. “But, what Brandon neglected to tell you is that someone in the Barnaby administration purchased a signal jammer from Staples on August 30, 2025.” The teachers gasped. Cody Simpson held a slip of paper aloft and said, “I found this in the course of my investigation, which included going through the garbage at Barnaby. It was grueling work and pretty gross, but as you can see it paid off.” The teachers had to agree, and were grateful that Cody had gone to such lengths. They also hoped that he had washed his hands in advance of preparing Cody Simpson’s Own Artisanal Cheese Puffs. But, then they all remembered that Windigo Esmort was safety monitor, and they collectively breathed a sigh of relief. It was a real emotional roller coaster.

“I knew it. Those bastards!” muttered Ben Jones, clenching his jaw with rage. James wrote “Brandon is a filthy liar” on the chart paper, then wrote WiFi, and then drew a circle around it and a line through it. What an expert at facilitating, Cass marveled.

Then Logan contributes an idea: 

“Well, it’s not so much an idea as a strategy,” he said. “Think of it like this. You know how much we all hate the Florida Panthers?” Everyone groaned. Someone yelled “Too soon!” Someone screamed. Logan waved his hands in a calm down gesture. Somehow, it didn’t come across as patronizing. “I know, I know. But I’ve been thinking… about how ‘that team’” he used scare quotes, indicating he was avoiding re-traumatizing the teachers by not saying the name of the team again. He continued. “They always knows how to play right on the line, you know, where they are messing with the goalie by ‘accidentally’ elbowing him in the head, or chucking a star player into the boards, or doing something seriously messed up… but somehow with them, it’s the right level of messed up. It’s effective at aggravating the other team but not drawing a penalty.” Everyone was traumatized by this so were obviously well aware of the strategy. Berto was breathing into a paper bag that had materialized from somewhere. Probably one of the many pockets of Windigo’s cargo pants- a friend to third rate chauffeurs and safety monitors everywhere.

"You get the other team so stirred up, that they forget their own game and just want to annihilate you. It’s a losing strategy. That’s what I was thinking about when you were explaining the 100 fires. So, my idea is, it doesn’t have to be any other kind of strategy than doing things that are ‘technically within the rules’ but are sure to piss them off. You know, like become an agent of chaos. Just do messed up things no one sees coming.”

Finally, Jackie Desmond's advice, via teacher Parm Pettipiece:

“Well as you know, I am in regular contact with well known labour lawyer, Jackie Desmond,” the teachers swooned, exclaimed, and pumped their fists in the air. Of course, they were familiar with Jackie Desmond. Parm had often been a conduit for excellent legal advice, as she moved in many of the same activist circles as the beloved hero of the people. 

“I showed her that last memo from Chadwick Penneyworth, and she was appalled. So I showed her all of them, and then she was shocked and appalled. She asked why we hadn’t been filing grievances all along. There were many obvious violations of our contract.” It was a good question. Why hadn’t they been filing grievances. They had a union after all. 

“Well, I explained to her that our union rep had retired,” she began. 

“Hey-O!” Someone yelled from the front door. It was Marty Neiminen, the boomer who had retired in spectacular fashion. He was now dressed in even more spectacular fashion, as his pink frilly apron was now twice as pink, twice as frilly, and read: “Some call me dad, others call me hero, but you may call me asshole.” None of them had known his name before he retired, but his name had since become legend. He approached the group, took in the list on the chart paper, and pulled up a chair.