Yesterday was Labor Day. Morrisville undertakes quite a number of activities on Labor Day.
First was the 10K race, sponsored by the Morrisville Fire Company. The race wound its way through the borough streets to the finish at Williamson Park. Congratulations to all the participants.
Then there were the festivities in Williamson Park, including the some of the local service organizations, churches, and community groups. There was the inevitable mix of Boy Scouts, fire fighters, borough politicians, and kids in sack races, along with the beautiful weather.
Let's not forget the car show along the downtown section of Bridge Street. I remember some of those older cars from when they were the "New! Improved! Better!" model fresh from the factory.
It was pure small-town corn, and it was great. This is the type of thing that Morrisville excels in. If you missed it, you missed a great show. This was the time to meet your neighbors (you know, the ones you sort of nod toward as you drive by...yeah, them) and say hello in person. It's civic events like these that renew the fraying fabric of community.
This is why Morrisville is a good place to raise a family. While we try to salvage our school system from the ravages of the Stop the Schoolers, let's not lose focus on what makes Morrisville.
Does anyone want to share their stories? What local officeholders or celebrities did you spot? Who was conspicuous by their absence?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Budget woes spark school district merger talks
An update on the Center Area-Monaca merger from the Lebanon Daily News
Budget woes spark school district merger talks
By MARTHA RAFFAELE and RAMESH SANTANAM Associated Press Writers
MONACA, Pa.—Pennsylvania will be shedding a school district by the end of this school year—a significant development even after years of nationwide efforts to nudge and sometimes force school systems to share services or merge.
The merger unfolding between two western Pennsylvania public school systems with sharply declining enrollments is the state's first district consolidation in at least 20 years, and most notably, its first voluntary one.
Officials say the move will save money and improve educational offerings, yet parents in both districts worry that some losses will accompany any gains. In any case, the consolidation is expected to be closely watched.
The willingness of two school districts to dissolve boundary lines is rare in states where local school board control is sacrosanct and school traditions that define a community are deeply ingrained. In recent years, at least a few states have tried to force mergers, with mixed results.
Yet the marriage of the Center Area and Monaca school districts northwest of Pittsburgh is part of a gradual, ongoing national progression toward fewer districts educating public school students.
Over roughly the last two decades, the number of school districts nationwide has declined 10 percent, from 15,714 in 1985-86 to 14,166 in 2005-06, according to the National Center for Education Statistics.
With local school boards facing spiraling prices for fuel, employee health insurance and
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other operating costs—and opposition to increases in property taxes that largely pay for them—the idea of consolidating to save money is becoming an increasingly common discussion topic.
"These conversations are going to be inevitable," said Education Secretary Gerald Zahorchak, who has been gently encouraging Pennsylvania's smallest rural school districts to at least consider merging or sharing services. "School districts are realizing that the cost of doing business won't get any cheaper."
Proponents say small district mergers can streamline administrative costs and achieve economies of scale. But even in the most difficult economic times, resistance can be strong.
The arguments against consolidation aren't just rooted in nostalgia for the old alma mater or skepticism about any promised savings. Critics also question whether educational quality will improve under larger school enrollments that mergers inevitably produce.
"It's not that consolidation is bad, but big schools are bad, and the notion that you can make education better by making schools bigger is just plumb wrong," said Marty Strange, policy director of the Rural School and Community Trust, based in Arlington, Va.
Enrollments in Monaca, a borough of about 6,000 people along the Ohio River, and in Center Area, which consists of two neighboring townships, have dropped steadily along with the region's population following the steel industry's decline.
Monaca superintendent Michael Thomas has seen his district's enrollment decrease from 900 to 672 students during his 11-year tenure, while Center Area has lost 175 students during the five years Daniel J. Matsook has been superintendent.
With fewer students, the menu of academic choices becomes limited. Monaca does not offer Advanced Placement classes, no mathematics beyond calculus and no science beyond physics, and Center Area cannot afford to continue offering courses that typically have 10 or fewer students. The merger is expected to produce about $1.5 million a year in combined savings for the districts.
"It is not financially responsible to offer courses that have three, four, five students in them," Matsook said.
Some states have forced the issue by mandating the consolidation of all districts, or ones that fall below a certain enrollment threshold.
In Maine, Gov. John Baldacci's administration is overseeing a plan to consolidate the state's 290 school districts into 80.
A 2007 Maine state law ordered the reorganizations, and although local voters get the final say, a "no" vote will reduce state aid.
Maine Education Commissioner Susan Gendron said the state had to take a hard line after its earlier efforts to ease the local property-tax burden with a greater infusion of state money failed. The plan is expected to save the state more than $36 million in the first year, she said.
"Districts were incentivized to do business differently, and they chose not to," Gendron said.
Opposition to the mandate has fueled a petition drive to overturn the law.
"There has been zero ... discussion about the impact on education quality throughout this whole debate," said Skip Greenlaw, a former state lawmaker leading the petition drive.
In Nebraska, a federal lawsuit was filed over a 2005 state law that forced elementary-only school districts, located mostly in rural areas, to combine with K-12 districts.
A federal appeals panel in April upheld a lower court's dismissal of the lawsuit, but it has been appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, said Mike Nolles, who leads a group dedicated to preserving the small schools and whose wife is one of the plaintiffs.
The one-room school that Nolles' 12-year-old daughter attends in north-central Nebraska is still operating, but the loss of local control has discouraged parental involvement, he said. Before consolidation, parents used to help with tasks such as maintaining playground equipment and ordering supplies.
"The teacher told my wife last evening, 'Parents don't even come to the school building anymore,'" Nolles said.
Arkansas lawmakers passed legislation in 2004 requiring the mergers of school districts with fewer than 350 students as part of a broader reform effort. That effort was prompted by a state Supreme Court ruling that declared the state's school funding system unconstitutional.
The law has reduced the number of districts from 311 to 245. In most cases, districts made the transition successfully, said Dan Farley, executive director of the Arkansas School Boards Association.
One downfall, however, was a decline in the numbers of black school board members and administrators due to changes in racial demographics, Farley said.
"I don't think it was a deliberate thing, but it was an unforeseen consequence," Farley said.
The last major state-ordered consolidation of Pennsylvania school districts occurred in the 1960s, when the state had more than 2,000 districts. By the 1980s, the number was reduced to 501.
With the consolidation under way in Monaca, the number will edge down to 500.
Zahorchak, Pennsylvania's education secretary, says his philosophy emphasizes encouraging small districts to pool resources in some way to spend their money efficiently, but to keep their enrollments manageable.
"Let's buy big, and deliver small," he said.
The merger plan for Center Area and Monaca calls for grades K-5 to consolidate in the 2009-10, with grades 6-12 following in 2010-11. The combined district will enroll about 2,600 students.
Residents are eyeing the change with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
Estee Cron, 31, who has three children in Monaca's elementary schools, worries that her community's student athletes won't have a chance to compete on teams in a larger district.
"We'll lose our football team," said Cron, a municipal parking officer.
Monaca homemaker Laura Gray favors the merger, even though her children don't. Gray's daughter, a sophomore, would be affected by the consolidation; her son will graduate in the spring.
"If they had told me when I was going to high school (the districts were going to merge), I would have said, 'No way. I am staying right here,'" Gray said. "But I think it's a good thing. I think it'll be better for both schools."
Even though the merger is voluntary, Thomas, the Monaca superintendent, concedes many challenges lie ahead on the way to creating a new school district. Several committees have been formed to sort out issues such as picking a new school mascot, school colors and a new district name.
"There are a lot of traditions tied to schools and dealing with that is difficult," Thomas said. "There has never been a voluntary merger in Pennsylvania. There is no blueprint for us to follow."
———
On the Net:
Center Area School District: http://www.casd.k12.pa.us
Monaca School District: http://www.monaca.k12.pa.us
Rural School and Community Trust: http://www.ruraledu.org
Budget woes spark school district merger talks
By MARTHA RAFFAELE and RAMESH SANTANAM Associated Press Writers
MONACA, Pa.—Pennsylvania will be shedding a school district by the end of this school year—a significant development even after years of nationwide efforts to nudge and sometimes force school systems to share services or merge.
The merger unfolding between two western Pennsylvania public school systems with sharply declining enrollments is the state's first district consolidation in at least 20 years, and most notably, its first voluntary one.
Officials say the move will save money and improve educational offerings, yet parents in both districts worry that some losses will accompany any gains. In any case, the consolidation is expected to be closely watched.
The willingness of two school districts to dissolve boundary lines is rare in states where local school board control is sacrosanct and school traditions that define a community are deeply ingrained. In recent years, at least a few states have tried to force mergers, with mixed results.
Yet the marriage of the Center Area and Monaca school districts northwest of Pittsburgh is part of a gradual, ongoing national progression toward fewer districts educating public school students.
Over roughly the last two decades, the number of school districts nationwide has declined 10 percent, from 15,714 in 1985-86 to 14,166 in 2005-06, according to the National Center for Education Statistics.
With local school boards facing spiraling prices for fuel, employee health insurance and
Advertisement
other operating costs—and opposition to increases in property taxes that largely pay for them—the idea of consolidating to save money is becoming an increasingly common discussion topic.
"These conversations are going to be inevitable," said Education Secretary Gerald Zahorchak, who has been gently encouraging Pennsylvania's smallest rural school districts to at least consider merging or sharing services. "School districts are realizing that the cost of doing business won't get any cheaper."
Proponents say small district mergers can streamline administrative costs and achieve economies of scale. But even in the most difficult economic times, resistance can be strong.
The arguments against consolidation aren't just rooted in nostalgia for the old alma mater or skepticism about any promised savings. Critics also question whether educational quality will improve under larger school enrollments that mergers inevitably produce.
"It's not that consolidation is bad, but big schools are bad, and the notion that you can make education better by making schools bigger is just plumb wrong," said Marty Strange, policy director of the Rural School and Community Trust, based in Arlington, Va.
Enrollments in Monaca, a borough of about 6,000 people along the Ohio River, and in Center Area, which consists of two neighboring townships, have dropped steadily along with the region's population following the steel industry's decline.
Monaca superintendent Michael Thomas has seen his district's enrollment decrease from 900 to 672 students during his 11-year tenure, while Center Area has lost 175 students during the five years Daniel J. Matsook has been superintendent.
With fewer students, the menu of academic choices becomes limited. Monaca does not offer Advanced Placement classes, no mathematics beyond calculus and no science beyond physics, and Center Area cannot afford to continue offering courses that typically have 10 or fewer students. The merger is expected to produce about $1.5 million a year in combined savings for the districts.
"It is not financially responsible to offer courses that have three, four, five students in them," Matsook said.
Some states have forced the issue by mandating the consolidation of all districts, or ones that fall below a certain enrollment threshold.
In Maine, Gov. John Baldacci's administration is overseeing a plan to consolidate the state's 290 school districts into 80.
A 2007 Maine state law ordered the reorganizations, and although local voters get the final say, a "no" vote will reduce state aid.
Maine Education Commissioner Susan Gendron said the state had to take a hard line after its earlier efforts to ease the local property-tax burden with a greater infusion of state money failed. The plan is expected to save the state more than $36 million in the first year, she said.
"Districts were incentivized to do business differently, and they chose not to," Gendron said.
Opposition to the mandate has fueled a petition drive to overturn the law.
"There has been zero ... discussion about the impact on education quality throughout this whole debate," said Skip Greenlaw, a former state lawmaker leading the petition drive.
In Nebraska, a federal lawsuit was filed over a 2005 state law that forced elementary-only school districts, located mostly in rural areas, to combine with K-12 districts.
A federal appeals panel in April upheld a lower court's dismissal of the lawsuit, but it has been appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, said Mike Nolles, who leads a group dedicated to preserving the small schools and whose wife is one of the plaintiffs.
The one-room school that Nolles' 12-year-old daughter attends in north-central Nebraska is still operating, but the loss of local control has discouraged parental involvement, he said. Before consolidation, parents used to help with tasks such as maintaining playground equipment and ordering supplies.
"The teacher told my wife last evening, 'Parents don't even come to the school building anymore,'" Nolles said.
Arkansas lawmakers passed legislation in 2004 requiring the mergers of school districts with fewer than 350 students as part of a broader reform effort. That effort was prompted by a state Supreme Court ruling that declared the state's school funding system unconstitutional.
The law has reduced the number of districts from 311 to 245. In most cases, districts made the transition successfully, said Dan Farley, executive director of the Arkansas School Boards Association.
One downfall, however, was a decline in the numbers of black school board members and administrators due to changes in racial demographics, Farley said.
"I don't think it was a deliberate thing, but it was an unforeseen consequence," Farley said.
The last major state-ordered consolidation of Pennsylvania school districts occurred in the 1960s, when the state had more than 2,000 districts. By the 1980s, the number was reduced to 501.
With the consolidation under way in Monaca, the number will edge down to 500.
Zahorchak, Pennsylvania's education secretary, says his philosophy emphasizes encouraging small districts to pool resources in some way to spend their money efficiently, but to keep their enrollments manageable.
"Let's buy big, and deliver small," he said.
The merger plan for Center Area and Monaca calls for grades K-5 to consolidate in the 2009-10, with grades 6-12 following in 2010-11. The combined district will enroll about 2,600 students.
Residents are eyeing the change with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
Estee Cron, 31, who has three children in Monaca's elementary schools, worries that her community's student athletes won't have a chance to compete on teams in a larger district.
"We'll lose our football team," said Cron, a municipal parking officer.
Monaca homemaker Laura Gray favors the merger, even though her children don't. Gray's daughter, a sophomore, would be affected by the consolidation; her son will graduate in the spring.
"If they had told me when I was going to high school (the districts were going to merge), I would have said, 'No way. I am staying right here,'" Gray said. "But I think it's a good thing. I think it'll be better for both schools."
Even though the merger is voluntary, Thomas, the Monaca superintendent, concedes many challenges lie ahead on the way to creating a new school district. Several committees have been formed to sort out issues such as picking a new school mascot, school colors and a new district name.
"There are a lot of traditions tied to schools and dealing with that is difficult," Thomas said. "There has never been a voluntary merger in Pennsylvania. There is no blueprint for us to follow."
———
On the Net:
Center Area School District: http://www.casd.k12.pa.us
Monaca School District: http://www.monaca.k12.pa.us
Rural School and Community Trust: http://www.ruraledu.org
I'm From The Government and I'm Here To Help
This story from the Omaha World-Herald has nothing to do with education, and it has nothing to do with Katrina-ravaged New Orleans and the help received then (or with Gustav now). This is just a prime example of why people dislike and distrust government.
Ordeal becomes test of man's will
BY MATTHEW HANSEN, WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER
Monday, September 1, 2008
Imagine the worst bureaucratic nightmare you've ever endured - a customer service rep that speaks robot, hours spent on the phone trying to fix the cable, an audit performed by the friendly folks at the Internal Revenue Service.
Sure, it's just $350, but Ted Johnson is now pressing his fight on principle. He has been making calls and filling out forms for six months, trying to recoup a $350 money order that was stolen.
Now, imagine this repeated every Tuesday for six months, an endless loop of frustrating phone calls and strongly worded letters set to a soundtrack of the jazzy music they pipe into your phone while you hold. And hold. And hold.
Welcome to Ted Johnson's life.
Every Tuesday, his day off, the Omaha man sets out to recover $350 he sent the federal government in February, money that never reached its intended recipient. Every Tuesday, he comes up $350 short.
At first, the 40-year-old maintenance man just wanted his money back. Then he decided he'd fight on out of principle.
And now it's an all-consuming quest whose players include the Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Postal Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation - pretty much everyone but the friendly folks down at the Internal Revenue Service.
Ted can't win. He also can't stop.
"They've been jabber-jawing and jacking me around every which way," Johnson said. "They cover each others' behinds like molasses."
Johnson's problems started, as many problems do, the day he fell in love.
Her name was Maria, and they met through friends and went on their first date just before Valentine's Day last year.
Ted couldn't believe how easy it was. They went to church together, grilled out all summer and rarely argued. Maria's 6-year-old son and Ted's 17-year-old son snapped snugly into the new family puzzle.
Only two problems. One, Ted doesn't like Mexican food. And two, Maria entered the country illegally 18 years ago and had never applied for U.S. citizenship.
Ted proposed anyway. Maria agreed.
And then, after they married, the newlyweds decided they should do the right thing.
On a freezing February day, they entered the Ralston Post Office and mailed off a $350 money order to start Maria's immigration process.
Maria made her new husband save the receipt, just in case. On the back of that receipt, there's a guarantee: If your mail order is lost or stolen, it says, you get your money back.
A month later, a letter arrived from the U.S. Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services. The office had received Maria Johnson's application, it said, but the Johnsons had failed to send the $350 check.
Ted stalked back into the post office.
"The money order must've been stolen," he said. "I want my money back."
Can't do that, the postal employee said. You need to prove the money order was stolen.
So Ted paid $5 to trace the money order.
The search turned up a name: Rick Nelson, who lives at 4800 S. 65th St. in Omaha. Except there is no 4800 S. 65th St. - that address is between a mobile home dealership and a car lot. There's no Rick Nelson, either.
But the search also turned up a bank account, and after a fair amount of sleuthing, Ted had another name and address, this one a real man living in Lincoln.
Turned out this guy had been busted for stealing other money orders from a government office - Marilu Cabrera, a spokesman for the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, confirmed that the mail processing employee had been fired, though not yet charged.
Ted and Maria Johnson's money order had been deposited in this man's account two days after they sent it at the Ralston Post Office, the trace of the mail order said. Ted called a postal inspector he'd been dealing with.
I figured out who did this, Ted told the inspector. I want my money back.
Can't do that, said the postal inspector on the other end of the line. You need to fill out some forms.
So Ted Johnson filled out the forms. A postal inspection office in Sioux Falls, S.D., sent them back.
He filled out the forms again. They returned to sender again with a note saying the information on the form was incomplete.
To Ted, it looked fully completed.
He filled out yet another form. He demanded his money back.
Can't do that, he was told - the criminal would pay restitution after he was charged and found guilty. Then, and only then, would Ted see his $350.
"It just didn't make any sense," Ted said.
Ted got desperate. He filed a case with the Omaha Police Department. It went nowhere. He filed a lawsuit seeking the only amount of money he could think of - $1,234.56. The suit was quickly dismissed.
He scribbled countless phone numbers for governmental offices onto the rejection letters and receipts he keeps inside a dirty Manila envelope. Nothing. He called the FBI .
"It got a little bit crazy," he admits.
At one point, Ted, who looks like he knows how to handle himself in a bar fight, decided to drive to Lincoln and find the guy who stole his money. His cooler head prevailed, he said, only after he realized he needed to fill his tank with gasoline to make it down Interstate 80.
On a recent Tuesday, the Johnsons at last did get some good news.
A local immigration official assured Ted that the six-month delay won't slow his new wife's immigration process.
And employees of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services have hinted to Ted that they might waive the government's demand that Ted and Maria repay the fee, though that isn't yet confirmed.
"I can't talk about specific cases, but I can tell you that we are closely looking at this particular case," said Cabrera, the spokeswoman for U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. "We will do everything possible to help them."
But Ted says he isn't done. He wants to make sure that $350 gets back into his wallet.
And he wants somebody, anybody, to apologize, to say they are sorry for the six months' worth of Tuesdays he's spent listening to jazzy elevator music while holding. And holding. And holding.
"I used to go fishing on Tuesdays," Ted says.
Now, on Tuesdays, "I just get angry."
Ordeal becomes test of man's will
BY MATTHEW HANSEN, WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER
Monday, September 1, 2008
Imagine the worst bureaucratic nightmare you've ever endured - a customer service rep that speaks robot, hours spent on the phone trying to fix the cable, an audit performed by the friendly folks at the Internal Revenue Service.
Sure, it's just $350, but Ted Johnson is now pressing his fight on principle. He has been making calls and filling out forms for six months, trying to recoup a $350 money order that was stolen.
Now, imagine this repeated every Tuesday for six months, an endless loop of frustrating phone calls and strongly worded letters set to a soundtrack of the jazzy music they pipe into your phone while you hold. And hold. And hold.
Welcome to Ted Johnson's life.
Every Tuesday, his day off, the Omaha man sets out to recover $350 he sent the federal government in February, money that never reached its intended recipient. Every Tuesday, he comes up $350 short.
At first, the 40-year-old maintenance man just wanted his money back. Then he decided he'd fight on out of principle.
And now it's an all-consuming quest whose players include the Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Postal Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation - pretty much everyone but the friendly folks down at the Internal Revenue Service.
Ted can't win. He also can't stop.
"They've been jabber-jawing and jacking me around every which way," Johnson said. "They cover each others' behinds like molasses."
Johnson's problems started, as many problems do, the day he fell in love.
Her name was Maria, and they met through friends and went on their first date just before Valentine's Day last year.
Ted couldn't believe how easy it was. They went to church together, grilled out all summer and rarely argued. Maria's 6-year-old son and Ted's 17-year-old son snapped snugly into the new family puzzle.
Only two problems. One, Ted doesn't like Mexican food. And two, Maria entered the country illegally 18 years ago and had never applied for U.S. citizenship.
Ted proposed anyway. Maria agreed.
And then, after they married, the newlyweds decided they should do the right thing.
On a freezing February day, they entered the Ralston Post Office and mailed off a $350 money order to start Maria's immigration process.
Maria made her new husband save the receipt, just in case. On the back of that receipt, there's a guarantee: If your mail order is lost or stolen, it says, you get your money back.
A month later, a letter arrived from the U.S. Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services. The office had received Maria Johnson's application, it said, but the Johnsons had failed to send the $350 check.
Ted stalked back into the post office.
"The money order must've been stolen," he said. "I want my money back."
Can't do that, the postal employee said. You need to prove the money order was stolen.
So Ted paid $5 to trace the money order.
The search turned up a name: Rick Nelson, who lives at 4800 S. 65th St. in Omaha. Except there is no 4800 S. 65th St. - that address is between a mobile home dealership and a car lot. There's no Rick Nelson, either.
But the search also turned up a bank account, and after a fair amount of sleuthing, Ted had another name and address, this one a real man living in Lincoln.
Turned out this guy had been busted for stealing other money orders from a government office - Marilu Cabrera, a spokesman for the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, confirmed that the mail processing employee had been fired, though not yet charged.
Ted and Maria Johnson's money order had been deposited in this man's account two days after they sent it at the Ralston Post Office, the trace of the mail order said. Ted called a postal inspector he'd been dealing with.
I figured out who did this, Ted told the inspector. I want my money back.
Can't do that, said the postal inspector on the other end of the line. You need to fill out some forms.
So Ted Johnson filled out the forms. A postal inspection office in Sioux Falls, S.D., sent them back.
He filled out the forms again. They returned to sender again with a note saying the information on the form was incomplete.
To Ted, it looked fully completed.
He filled out yet another form. He demanded his money back.
Can't do that, he was told - the criminal would pay restitution after he was charged and found guilty. Then, and only then, would Ted see his $350.
"It just didn't make any sense," Ted said.
Ted got desperate. He filed a case with the Omaha Police Department. It went nowhere. He filed a lawsuit seeking the only amount of money he could think of - $1,234.56. The suit was quickly dismissed.
He scribbled countless phone numbers for governmental offices onto the rejection letters and receipts he keeps inside a dirty Manila envelope. Nothing. He called the FBI .
"It got a little bit crazy," he admits.
At one point, Ted, who looks like he knows how to handle himself in a bar fight, decided to drive to Lincoln and find the guy who stole his money. His cooler head prevailed, he said, only after he realized he needed to fill his tank with gasoline to make it down Interstate 80.
On a recent Tuesday, the Johnsons at last did get some good news.
A local immigration official assured Ted that the six-month delay won't slow his new wife's immigration process.
And employees of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services have hinted to Ted that they might waive the government's demand that Ted and Maria repay the fee, though that isn't yet confirmed.
"I can't talk about specific cases, but I can tell you that we are closely looking at this particular case," said Cabrera, the spokeswoman for U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. "We will do everything possible to help them."
But Ted says he isn't done. He wants to make sure that $350 gets back into his wallet.
And he wants somebody, anybody, to apologize, to say they are sorry for the six months' worth of Tuesdays he's spent listening to jazzy elevator music while holding. And holding. And holding.
"I used to go fishing on Tuesdays," Ted says.
Now, on Tuesdays, "I just get angry."
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