Day Two: 3,452 Words and School Supplies have been replaced with Foucauldian Discourse Analysis Aids

Well, our staff at Barnaby Secondary School are still in this meeting hosted by Chadwick Penneyworth, and things have gone from bad to worse.

Cass reminisces about the triumphs of the year before: "They had successfully organized around the ongoing staffing shortages, and shortages of… well, everything. They had won several victories, increasing the budgets for both staff and supplies in a time of economic contraction and neoliberal scarcity tactics. They had also successfully resisted external pressure to “de-politicize” curriculum- which had amounted to upholding white supremacy, patriarchy, hetero-normativity, and all the things. The teachers had worked collaboratively with local community organizations to bolster support for continuing to build anti-oppressive practices, materials, and policies. The theatre program was thriving, literally winning awards, the music program, too. Their swim team had been coached last year by the inimitable Cody Simpson, following his devastating failure to make the Australian Olympic Swim Team. Australia’s loss was Barnaby’s gain, as Cody Simpson not only inspired the swimmers with his “great” abs, he also enthusiastically supported the organizing efforts of the school. Cody Simpson, like Barry Manilow, was no fascist. The school year had ended on such a high note, that the summer of 2025 was dubbed “Hot Commie Summer” by the student newspaper, and in the yearbook, the students lovingly awarded the staff at Barnaby Secondary School as “Most Likely To Overthrow the Government.”

Here is another excerpt where we learn about Penneyworth's background and some of his plans for the upcoming academic year:

Not that I need to explain myself to you,” (everyone thought he did) “but I am more than qualified to serve as leader at this school, having completed my doctoral work at the Jack Kerouac School for Experimental Vice Principalry. My dissertation was titled ‘Becoming Vice Principal: Breaking Through the Middle Management/Absolute Power Paradox,’ so I know a thing or two about running a school!”

This did not track, but everyone was stunned into silence. Cass herself felt close to tears, or sick to her stomach, or both. Facing yet another uphill battle, with another insufferable asshole calling the shots, while students and teachers alike suffered… it seemed more than she could take. She saw in the faces of her colleagues that the hope which had grown the year before, that had been sustained during Hot Commie Summer, was dying. She was watching hope die. She saw that VP Penneyworth was watching it die, too, and that unlike her, who felt depleted, the loss of hope fed him. He was like a vampire. Not a vampyre at all, she thought.

“Now, let’s proceed with the dignity befitting our station,” he said, whatever the hell that meant. “You may have noticed that the ‘supply’ cupboard has been removed,” he said, using scare quotes around the word supply. It was deranged. Cass had not noticed that the supply cupboard had been removed along with the other lounge furniture, but she sure did now. “’Supplies’ are for teachers with a commitment level of two,” he said, sneering in Cass’s direction. “Not for teachers who have made a serious commitment to the schools they serve.” Cass wanted to ask if that meant that she would get supplies, but uncharacteristically, she bit her tongue.

“To help with the transition, or becoming if you will,” he chuckled, “each of you has been provided with a box of what I like to call Foucauldian Discourse Analysis Aids.” UGH, Cass thought, another asshole Foucauldian scholar. “If you reach under your chair, you will find your package.” The teachers reached under their chairs, each finding a small-ish box taped to the bottom. Cass was disquieted to find her name on the label. Judging from the uncomfortable murmurs around her, she correctly ascertained that she wasn’t the only one.

She sliced the thin tape with her fingernail and opened the box. Inside she found Chiclets, a coupon for a 6 pack of Tang, and a red whistle. She looked over at Roberto, who was holding out their box to display the unlikely collection of items: a corkscrew, a bottle of firm hold hair gel, a pair of toenail clippers, and a stainless steel wineglass that read “Daddy’s Sippy Cup” in loopy white scrawl. She felt chilled to the bone. Who would dare put a bottle of firm hold hair gel in a box intended for Roberto, a person whose luscious dark curls were the obsession of every human with sensory organs. She thought that Daddy’s Sippy Cup was probably the only useful item of the bunch. Obviously this year was going to require a lot of surreptitious alcohol consumption.

I hope you enjoy these excerpts! Please keep the inspiration rolling, because I am not going to make it through these 30 days without generous copy/pasting.