Read Callahan's Place 09 - Callahan's Con (v5.0) for Free Online Page A

the other requirements of this law.’   It says ‘…parents bear the teaching responsibility in this option…’—news flash— ‘…and the child must show educational progress each year.’”   She did not glance down at the papers she held, but her voice told me she was quoting.
    Long-Drink arrived with my Irish Coffee, and I took a big gulp, waving thanks to him with the mug.   “What are these ‘requirements’ we’re supposed to meet?” I asked Erin.
    “The law requires an annual educational evaluation, which the parent or guardian must file with his district school superintendent's office.”
    “When?”
    “The state doesn’t say, exactly.”
    “What does it say?”
    Again she became Quote-Robot: “‘Some superintendents have established deadlines for receiving the evaluation in order to help them with their bookkkeeping.   While nothing in the law requires families to comply with a particular date, most families do comply unless circumstances make it impossible to do so.’”   She went on in her normal voice, “…especially since the superintendent in his or her sole discretion determines whether the evaluation is satisfactory or not.”
    Already I was beginning to get a headache.   This definitely sounded like state law, all right.   “I don’t think you’re doing enough translating, honey: it still sounds like Bullshit.   We do have to comply, but we don’t, unless we don’t want to get screwed in which case we do.   What exactly is this furshlugginer evaluation supposed to consist of?”
    She shrugged.   “It can be any one of five things.   One, individual assessment by a Florida-certified teacher.   There are some who do that full-time, like circuit judges.”
    I pictured the kind of teacher who could be permanently spared from actual teaching duties to do that gig.   Like being Surgeon General, or Vice President: a distinction that disgraces you.   “Pass.”
    “Agreed.   Two: a nationally-normed student achievement test, administered by a certified teacher.   Three: a state student assessment test.   Four: a psych evaluation.   Or five: ‘...any other method that is mutually agreed upon by the parent(s) and the superintendent.’”
    The first four all sounded horrid; the last didn’t sound like anything at all.   “So, which method have we been using, so far?”
    She kept her features smooth.   “None.”
    “No!”   I couldn’t believe I had blown off paperwork this crucial.   After losing my first bar for that very mistake, had I really made it again, badly enough to risk costing me the custody and company of my only child?   “Oh, fuck me—”
    “Best offer I’ve had in half an hour,” Harry brayed.
    Erin put a hand on my shoulder.   “Relax, Daddy—we didn’t need to do any of those things.   We had a waiver.   An unofficial one, a special understanding with the district superintendent.   Until recently.”
    “We did?   Really?   How did I pull that off?”
    “Remember that time we all went on that vacation cruise with Uncle Trav for a whole week?”
    I smiled just thinking of it.   “I’ll remember that trip a month after they cremate me.”
    “Remember the lady Uncle Bbiillll brought with him?”
    Nobody but Erin can pronounce Double Bill’s name that way.   I’ve heard several try.   “Yes I do.   Remarkable woman.   Morgan Something.”
    “Morgan Sorensen.   That was her.”
    “That was who?”
    “She was the district superintendent of schools.   The operative word being ‘was’.”
    I nodded. “I can see how that would be.   She was at least an order of magnitude too smart to have that job, and almost certainly too good a teacher to waste on it.   What I don’t understand is how she ever acquired the post in the first place.”
    “Inheritance.   Her brother died in office, and she agreed to fill out his term.   What with one thing and another—Peter Principle, I suspect—she was still there eleven