The words are leaking out of my every pore: my fingertips, my mouth, my nose, my eyes. I rant, I roar, I screech, I bleed. I want the bullying to stop. It affects the staff, the families, the children -- both abled and disabled. It upholds the weak and ineffective, and destroys those who dedicate themselves to bring the very best of their craft to the table. It is fucked up.
But how, without wreaking havoc on all, do I step out of the observer’s role and into the driver’s seat? I am starved for answers; I fear there are none.