The Cannibals at 110 Livingston St.
by
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THE JELLYFISH AMONG US ABOUND The ocean has always delighted and fascinated me. My family always spent summers at Long Beach and Rockaway so that I was introduced at a very tender age to the joys of swimming, walking along the water’s edge, and hopping over the little whitecaps as they danced around my ankles, relentlessly. Riding the waves n toward the shore and feeling that wonderful, weightless, floating feeling as the particular wave lifted and then deposited little, frisky me wherever it was headed, was always a marvelous treat to me, and to my younger sister, and to this very day, I drive to the beach and romp in the water, to relax and unwind. The fresh, sea air and bright sunshine always make it a perfect way to spend leisure time. I also enjoy lying on the beach, just sunning and watching the tide come in and out. There is a very special rhythm that one detects as an ocean-watcher, and it is awesome when one stops to reflect that this has been going on for millions of years. The myriad forms of life beneath the waves is also a fascinating reality. The schools of tiny fish that swim around ones feet, and the various kinds of larger fish and crabs and clams that wash up on the sand, or creep up ones leg while napping or slither between your fingers while you and the flocks of frolicking children that are always part of the beach scene, are building sand castles, become a part of ones background – an accepted, marvelous aspect of nature. Frequently, we step on shiny, gelatin-like blobs of matter, while walking along the beach, and upon further examination, we realize the jellyfish are here again. These bizarre, formless chunks of protoplasm come in various sizes and hues, ranging from very tine, to a few inches in diameter, and since they are somewhat unpleasant to touch, and slippery when stepped on, most people avoid contact with them. They are essentially harmless, except for the species called the Portugese Man O’War, which is really a cluster of hundreds of jellyfish with poisonous fluid, all clinging together, which can deposit a stinger in your skin causing an unpleasant reaction and possible infection. I am stressing here the fact that I’ve always thought that jellyfish were harmless creatures, but during these past three years, I have learned that there is a hitherto unmentioned species of jellyfish, and it can be extremely dangerous, and can even kill, in a manner to be explained later. Of course, I’m referring to that branch of this primitive species that assumes human form. This chapter is all about this kind of spineless creature, which abounds everywhere, in families, in offices, in apartment houses, etc. They are everywhere, but unlike the inert, opaque blobs one steps on or around at the beach, they are difficult to recognize until certain specific conditions are present. Unless these circumstances arise, these jellyfish may seem to be fine, upstanding people, living their life roles as men, women, citizens, parents, aunts, uncles, neighbors, friends, colleagues, workers, from every walk of life. Their spinal column’s lack of calcium, their ability to slither, shrink and even vanish into their immediate surroundings, is not immediately visible, until the particular circumstance arises, which will then call forth all the devious methods they have stored in their psyches, to avoid getting involved when trouble comes. I’m referring to trouble of any kind, especially that which is happening to someone else, who may be a total stranger or a close friend or relative. You have also seen, I’m sure, people stepping around, or over, some luckless individual lying inert, on a sidewalk, curb or floor, somewhere. They seem to be running to catch that bus, or subway train, or to cross the street before the light changes. But, on closer examination, you realize they are running from something and that something is the possibility of having to become involved. By looking or pretending to look the other way, this jellyfish protects himself from having to see what is there – a fellow human being, in need of a helping hand, or word, or gesture. The jellyfish person is solely concerned with himself and his own immediate well-being. He lacks empathy, which forces the person to place himself in the unfortunate person’s place and feel the pain and woes of the victim, and therefore doesn’t offer assistance of any kind. The jellyfish flees, or pretends hearing loss or faulty vision. It is a deliberate posture and attitude this person assumes. And there is only one underlying reason – fear. This is my conclusion, based on bitter personal experience at Far Rockaway High School, at U.F.T. high school monthly committee meetings, and from conversations with various acquaintances, friends, and relatives. Before this nightmare began, I had never given much thought to jellyfish, or cowardice, in its many disguises, or why so few people ever stop to help someone in distress on the street, for example. The past three years have forced me to reflect on the mass desertion I experienced at the hands of more than 150 teachers with whom I worked and socialized for 16 years. The total silence of the Far Rockaway High School the past two and a half years has been stunning reality. Not one former colleague ever called or wrote or protested the outrageous unprofessional treatment I had received. Not one former colleague had called to inquire about anything. As an example, in April, 1971, ten months after I was thrown out of my teaching position, Mrs. Gladys Roth, U.F.T. Field Representative handling my case, had to call Bob Arnesen, the Chapter Chairman, to ask him to testify at my "Unsatisfactory Rating" hearing of the Board. Bob was reluctant to appear. He said, "Oh, yes, what ever happened to Fran? What could I possibly do to help her now?" This response from the head of the U.F.T. Chapter, who was supposed to be looking out for the teachers’ interests, also knew all the facts of the case from the very beginning. Can you imagine how I felt when I heard his comments? In addition to his rottenness, his co-chapter chairman, Abe Gerewitz, also expressed reluctance to appear, in my behalf, but did consent to attend anyway. Their testimony, as it later turned out, was told in a weak, apologetic manner, and did more for Mr. Gordon than for me. Both Bob and Abe spoke in a hesitant, low, voice, and clearly showed their discomfort at being present at this hearing. Although they were supposed to be testifying for me, as witnesses, to Mr. Gordon’s announced intentions of having me ousted from my teaching position, no matter what he had to do to make it happen, their squirming and sniveling kind of testimony made no impression on the two hearing officers. Both these officers were high school principals, Mrs. Bertha Gordon of Morris High School in the Bronx and Louis Schuker, of Jamaica High School, and they were sitting there, smugly, unmoved by my two star witnesses. With "friends" like Bob and Abe, who needed enemies? I was only asking to be consulted when a parent or student complained about me. I was only asking that Mr. Gordon hear my side of a complaint, and then decide what actions to take. I was only asking why so many letters were being written by complaining students, when I failed them, because they broke Mr. Gordon’s own rules! I was only asking if Mr. Gordon placed letters of complaint by students in other teachers’ files too, without consulting the teacher fir
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About the Book
I wrote this book to expose the dark underbelly of unconstitutional practices perpetrated by the New York City Board of Education with total compliance in the abuse of teachers, of the Teachers’ Union, (UFT) local 2, AFL-CIO. The public never hears about forced psychiatric exams by board-hired and board-paid doctors and threats of immediate firing for insubordination if the teacher refuses. The public never hears that medical reports are kept secret; that letters of complaint by students and parents are honored and acted upon without the teachers’ side being hear. I wrote this book to tell everyone not to blindly trust their doctors, especially psychiatrists, as they may be harmful to them. No one is safe from the hired medical hit man who is willing to violate his Hippocratic oath, to heal, not to harm, his patients. I hope there will be an earthquake of protests from parents, citizens, everyone to stop the homespun gulag operation at Livingston Street and to indict and punch and de-license all the people involved.
About the Author
Francine Newman grew up in Laurelton, Queens, the daughter of a local doctor. She received a B.A. from Hunter College and an M.A. from Teachers’ College, Columbia University. She traveled to Europe, Japan, and East and West Africa to study education and health practices as well as governments and history to earn graduate credits. She traveled with Syracuse University and Howard University as well as private travel groups. She taught twenty-nine years of high school health education and physical education. She worked as a substitute teacher at Andrew Jackson High School, John Adams High School, and Far Rockaway High School all of Queens, and as fulltime teacher at JHS210 in Brooklyn and Far Rockaway High School and Forest Hills High School in Queens.