I simply became mired in the bureaucracy of the local school district and their whimsical approach to vehicle insurance. The crash was not exactly propulsive - the man and I did not become friends, nor did I leave my questionable charter-school job. I nodded and sadly assessed the damage to my modest, but new, Japanese car. The driver (an older Black man) explained to me (a younger white woman) that he had fallen asleep at the wheel. The van, as it turned out, belonged to the School District of Philadelphia. The move had been prompted by my partner’s work I was feeling guilty about taking a job (reluctantly, out of necessity) with an organization that was arguably leading the charge in privatizing the city’s beleaguered public schools. THE DAY I MOVED to Philadelphia, a large white van drove into my small, black car, which was parked outside my new apartment.
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