Every December a special group of fellows get together at the same venue every year,
a local Bar and Grill owned by a friend of us all.
Back in the day, we all taught together in a school for the handicapped. The students we taught ranged in age from 9 to 20. The students were classified as SOCIALLY MALADJUSTED, a rather harsh term, one that is no longer used to describe the kids that we taught. Every single one of them had been abused and neglected since being conceived.
The clientele we dealt with all came from Bergen County, the fourth-highest Per capita income in the state. The county spared no expense when it came to trying to help these young men.
We were dealing with criminals in the making.
Despite the money being poured into our program, known as Program Six, only a handful of the kids didn't end up in State Prison. The recidivism rate was off of the charts. From murder, rape, grand theft, drug dealing, you name it, they did it, and they ended up in prison, the big house, not your run-of-the-mill county jail.
The few students who did resist the temptations of the streets made all of our efforts priceless, but burnout was inevitable. In less than seven years we all moved on to other school districts, but the camaraderie that developed over that short time brings us all back together once a year.
The bald guy with the black arrow pointing at his dome, I see a few times a year. He's the funniest dude I have ever met and he's the one that keeps THE COACHES SOIREE going strong after so many years.
Mr. T as he was referred to by the students, was my mentor. He was one of the original three teachers hired by Bergen County Special Services. He was hired about 2 months before I was and we were paired up, me being his teacher's aid.
The first time I met this wonderful man was the day I got hired and what a day that was.
The following account of the day I signed on the dotted line as an aid for Mr. T. goes like this. As unbelievable as this account may seem, the fact is that the day went down exactly as you will read.
My best friend at the time drove me to the interview which was being held at the location of the school where I hoped to be working. He parked the car and waited for my return. The only entrance to the small building the county was renting from St Anne's Parish was locked. I rang the bell and I saw a janitor unlocking several doors in a hallway that leads to the office where the interview would be conducted.
I entered the principal's office and my first-ever job interview got underway. After answering a few questions there comes a knock on the principal's shut door. In steps Mr. T, escorting a student that looked to be about 17 or 18 years old. The student was totally out of control and swearing up a storm. As he enters the office the young man starts clearing the desk of every item placed there. As I would learn later on, restraining a student who can cause bodily harm to themselves or others is totally within the law. At this point, the student was being restrained as I sat there wondering what the heck was happening. The student calms down a little going from a ten to an eight on the out-of-control scale and the principal instructs Mr T to release him from his grasp, wrong move! The out-of-control student grabs the phone that had been knocked to the ground and before any of us could react he strikes the principal in the head several times, knocking him to the floor. The principal is unconscious, bleeding from the head. I'm not even on the payroll yet and there I am, assisting Mr T. in wrestling the student to the ground. All of the commotion brought another teacher to the utter insanity occurring during my interview. He calls the police, who arrive within a few minutes.
Now this is where the story goes to a whole new level.
As the officer is dealing with the situation trying to get a pair of handcuffs on the student, the breaking of glass can be heard in the hallway. Several other students are smashing the wire-reinforced windows in the doors that lead to the outside. They exit the building and open the door of the police car. They are ripping at the shotgun that is locked tightly inside of the cruiser.
All of this is going on as my buddy is waiting for me to return from the interview. He dials 911 and in minutes the parking lot is buzzing with officers of the law. Several students are taken out in handcuffs. The principal was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and my interview was over.
I return to my buddy's car and he's as pale as a ghost and wants to know what the hell just happened. I fill him in on the details and then say these exact words. "Now that's a place I want to work."
A few days pass before I get a call from the principal. He thanks me for my assistance and he wants to know if I still want the job. 46 years later we all get together to reminisce about the good old days. Unless you were there, the shit we recall would be hard to believe. Every December the Coaches get together and spend several hours having a couple of beers, recalling the craziness we experienced.
Of the fourteen of us who started this journey together, seven of us are still kicking. At some point during this special gathering, we have a moment of silence for our fellow Coaches who have
passed.
