IB Conference

So, I'm in Seattle for an IB conference. Our school is a "candidate school" for the international baccalaureate program. It's sortof ridiculous. Basically we have created an elitist program where only smart, well-behaved students are allowed the best teachers(and by "best," I actually mean the ones with classroom management and least likely to leave in the middle of the year), schedule, field trips and anything else our school has to offer. We're on the first floor, so that visitors see this school instead of the one I write about in this blog (that is mostly the 2nd and 3rd floors). The principal constantly threatens them with removal (what do they care? The 3rd floor looks "really fun" to them.) They are always told how horrible they are for petty stuff like talking in the hallway (heh hem, JOE.) But they see other students throwing books at teachers and screaming profanities down the hallway.
Now I'm at this conference. All the teachers have to have the training in order for us to become an official IB school. I get here, and meet all these other teachers who are cool, but who totally piss me off. Today in my group, there were teachers from Orange County ("Our kids are exactly like those jerks on that show.") and a teacher that complained about her school because 30% of the kids are on free and reduced lunch (100% of my kids are on free and reduced lunch...i.e. poor.) They tell stories that start with, "Well, last year when we put on a full-scale production of Romeo and Juliet..." and "Our supply room has been out of lavender tinted paper for almost 2 weeks!" (wait, wait...Supply Room?!)
Meanwhile, we discuss "challenges" of IB. I mention that we have difficulties getting teachers trained because of such high teacher turn-over. Inquiries are made. All of a sudden I'm like some circus sideshow. "Quick! Go talk to the Baltimore teacher! Listen and be amazed! You'll be shocked! You'll be appalled! You'll *tsk* and shake your head!" Now everybody looks at me like I am slowly morphing into a banana and they don't know if they should say something.
Good Times in Seattle.