Regime Change

Look.

We have a problem here.

Nothing wrong with your approach.

Not a single thing you can do about your results.

There’s not even a way for you to make improvements.

Not in time, I mean.

But the fact still remains.

We have a problem.

A massive,

challenging,

Godforsaken,

fear-mongering,

hateful,

spiteful,

childish,

petty…

problem.

I get it.

“I didn’t have a choice,”

you’re saying.

“We’re just spectators and it was out of our hands,”

you’re telling me.

“What’s done is done and we need to prepare for the future,”

you’re lamenting.

But yes,

you did.

And no,

it wasn’t.

And no it isn’t and no you don’t.

Not yet, anyway.

Go with me here.

We’ve got to get rid of her.

She’s the worst.

Objectively, subjectively

it doesn’t matter what you think,

you’re right.

We’ve got to replace her.

She’s ruining everything.

Nap times will be cut in half.

Arts and crafts are doubling

and recess is on its way out.

If we’re united,

nothing can stop us.

No one can get in our way.

Not even her.

And that’s where you come in.

You work for her.

She pays you, sure,

but does she pay you what you’re worth?

That’s what I thought.

She runs this place like a sweatshop

in terms of how she treats you.

Just ask yourselves,

and I mean this, truly, honestly:

Why did you come here in the first place?

Was it the sound of a child’s laughter?

Was it the smiles from ear to ear when you expressed approval?

Or was it because she paid decent

and you had student loan debt

preventing you from building your own futures

and raising your own children?

Exactly.

So it’s simple.

You help me,

us, really,

and I’ll help you.

Get rid of Mrs. Patterson

and we won’t say a thing.

Our parents will keep sending us here.

We’ll keep being cute.

And when you ask us to go to time out,

we’ll only protest every third or fourth time, tops.

Make it look like an accident if you have to.

She has no family.

No one will ask too many questions.

And once the dust blows over,

you can re-open this place,

slap up a sign that says “under new management”

and we can all have what we want.

You set your own wages.

We set our own rules.

No more oppressive dictatorship.

No

More

principal.

So.

What do you say?

Do it for the children.