In which I learn the penalty of being nice

So I was going to tell about Joanne.

We started off the school year in the summer with a planning meeting for going to summer training in Austin. It's a good weekend's worth of classes and information about rules, practices, procedures and policies, as well as lots of practical information on doing the PTA thing. Usually all the officers go, but this year the president had family commitments and couldn't go. A few weeks before the trip nothing had been done about planning transportation, or anything else for that matter, so I called a meeting at the neighborhood pool to get the ball rolling.

At that meeting there were two returning officers and a bunch of new ones, myself included. We started talking room arrangements and car arrangements, and the aforementioned Candy spoke only twice: to ask exactly how many of these classes she HAD to go to, (bylaws say 75% minimum) and to say that since we were talking business, she was getting back in the water.

Sigh.

During the trip nobody seemed to want to talk about PTA business or update anyone. Joanne and I roomed together and we spent the time talking about what we'd like to see, what we'd do if we could, how we'd prefer things to be. We spent hours on plans for the coming year, and discovered we agreed on a lot of things. But after coming home, we two decided on a policy: we'd be able to vent to each other, but only during 'Round Tables' when we'd agree the discussion would go no further.

The year started badly, with rumors that I'd broken confidentiality over health screenings. Though not remotely true, the story went all over the school and there are people to this day who still believe it. Joanne spent the time angry at the perpetrators, one of whom of course was Candy. When we'd get together to vent about it, I certainly let loose about her and a few other people. Some of these people would take home money and not turn it in for deposit for months, and others wouldn't even read the budget and know what their limits were on spending. Some bounced checks and forgot to repay after several notices. Some just didn't show up for meetings or take care of the basic details of their job.

But I could always count on Joanne to listen, talk it out, and keep me from going over the edge in dealing with these people.

Then came Robbie and his sisters.

Robbie's a sad kid from a sad home. He and his two sisters are legend around the school for misbehaving. People won't let their kids play with Robbie and the girls. They alternate turns in the office for discipline. And sadly for Joanne, her daughter is in the same class with one of the girls. This girl spits at Joanne's daughter, pulls her hair, screams in her face, and a dozen other things I can't think of. Joanne has had it with the school and trying to get this worked out.

But one day I saw Robbie and the girls walking home in the freezing rain. They aren't allowed to ride the bus anymore, a wonderful development for all the other kids, and one I'm satisfied with. But as I passed them in the cold and wet, I knew I couldn't let them go home alone. I made them climb into the car and have been taking them home, rain or shine, ever since. Teachers know to keep them close until I arrive, and then they happily release them to me.

As near as I can tell from clues I've put together, Joanne is pissed about this. Never mind it keeps these three kids out of her neighborhood and puts them back at their own home; never mind that the kids would otherwise dawdle home and wreak havok along the way anywhere they could. She's reported to be upset because I'm treating them nicely.

What, pray tell, am I supposed to do about that?

Next time, the results of her pissed-off state, and what I ultimately found out.