The Assignment

by Liza Wiemer

  “That’s why you came over?”

  My throat tightens. Logan scrutinizes my face and it’s obvious she knows something’s up. When it comes to guests, I’m great at putting on a cheerful mask, but with Logan it’s harder. I set the pizza on the kitchen counter and shrug. “I was worried.”

  “Sorry. I know I promised to text you.” She sits at the table and fills me in on her nightmare confrontation with Mr. Lane. “He expected so much better from me. Now I’m certain I have no chance of getting the Outstanding Senior College Scholarship Award.”

  Swear words explode from my mouth. I pace the kitchen, calling Mr. Bartley, Principal McNeil, and Mr. Lane every name I can think of, cursing them all.

  “Wow,” Logan says. “Feel better?”

  “No. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.” My lips quirk up, but my smile fades fast as I fill her in on the grocery store conversation.

  “Ah, that explains so much.”

  Not even close, I say to myself.

  She stands. “C’mere. I think we both could use a hug.” Setting her head on my shoulder, Logan asks, “Are you sorry we talked to the reporter?”

  “Not at all. You?”

  She pulls back, drops her arms. “Definitely not.”

  “Good.”

  “I spoke with Lissa Chen. She thinks Principal McNeil should know about what happened with Mr. Lane. I don’t want to tell him. It’ll just make him hate me even more.”

  “But—”

  “Are you hungry? Dad and I kind of went overboard. Comfort food.”

  “Yeah. I could use some of that.”

  Video chat:

  BLAIR: (on her phone at Glenslope High School, onstage in the auditorium for Grease rehearsal) How are you holding up?

  LOGAN: (on her laptop, in her bedroom, sitting with Cade propped up on her bed) We’ve had better days.

  BLAIR: (a face fills the screen) This is Liam. He’s playing Danny.

  LIAM: (waves) Hi. Blair’s told half the school about Mr. Barfley and that messed-up assignment. Just wanted to say that I have so much respect for you.

  LOGAN AND CADE: Thanks.

  BLAIR: (her face joins Liam’s) We’re really sorry the two of you had such a horrible day.

  CADE: (shrugs)

  LOGAN: Nothing we can do about it, so…(trails off)

  BLAIR: We’ll be right back, okay?

  LOGAN AND CADE: Okay.

  BLAIR: (the camera sweeps all over the place, giving Cade and Logan a floor-to-ceiling view of the auditorium, including a couple dozen feet, rows of empty seats, and bright lights above. Blair’s face reappears) Hi, sorry about that. I’m giving you to Mrs. Rajurkar.

  LOGAN AND CADE: (glance at one another, confused)

  MRS. RAJURKAR: (on Blair’s phone, smiling, eyes on the stage, she nods) Ready! (she flips the camera, the entire stage is filled with GHS theater students holding white pieces of paper) One. Two. Three.

  GHS THEATER STUDENTS: (they flip the papers, reveal handwritten #WeSupportU signs, and shout) WE SUPPORT YOU, LOGAN AND CADE! (whoops and shouts, fists pump the air)

  BLAIR: (grins, skips forward to her phone, takes it from Mrs. Rajurkar, turns camera to face her) Love you.

  LOGAN: (leans into Cade, misty-eyed) That was…amazing.

  BLAIR: Aww. I’ll text you a photo so you two can look at it anytime.

  CADE: (smiles) Thank you.

  LOGAN: (brushes away a tear) Thank you. Love you.

  “He said what?” Cade’s expression mirrors my shock. He sinks onto the edge of my bed as I slip into my desk chair, setting my laptop onto my desk.

  Through my phone’s speaker, Bethany Beshett says, “The New York education commissioner said that the assignment, and I quote, ‘seems to be a topic worthy of analysis. Looking at both sides of the debate fosters critical thinking skills. Students can gain a lot from different perspectives. Of course, a teacher has a responsibility to give grade-appropriate background information and material when presenting any new topic.’ ”

  “Critical thinking? He said looking at both sides fosters critical thinking skills?” I type the words into a blank note, then add a header: Education Commissioner’s Comments.

  “That’s what he said. I have a recording of it.”

  “When did this happen?” Cade asks.

  “He was speaking at the New York Teachers Convention this afternoon. I caught him on the way out and was able to ask him about it.”

  “Wow.” Cade gets up and moves to my side. I scoot over, pat the chair for him to sit with me. Even the top educator in New York is against us.

  “My boss would like to post my article within the hour. I already have a strong response from the deputy director of Humanity for Peace and Justice, Nathan Goldstein, but I would also like to include your thoughts.”

  “What about Lissa Chen?” I ask.

  “Nathan is her boss.”

  Cade and I share a look. “Can you tell us what Mr. Goldstein said?” I ask.

  “He contacted Commissioner Munro’s office and asked him to review the assignment closely, stating that the assignment is not only an affront to the Jewish people, but all humanity. It’s his strongest recommendation that the commissioner ask the school to apologize to the students for requiring them to defend the Nazis’ points of view and to rescind the debate. He said, and I quote, ‘Cade and Logan are brave teens who deserve not only our support, but our deepest respect and gratitude.’ ”

  I’m so surprised I temporarily lose my ability to speak. Cade stops rolling a pencil back and forth on my desk.

  “Can I get a quote from you two?”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Sure. Would it be okay if we email you a statement?”

  “Absolutely, and I appreciate it,” Bethany says. “Take your time, but not too much time.”

  * * *

  * * *

  I get up and pace in front of my desk. “Why would he comment without fully reviewing the assignment?”

  “Who knows? It defies logic. This entire situation defies logic.” Cade opens a new email on my laptop. “You fed me pizza and fries and made me feel a thousand times better about bailing at the grocery store, so I’ll type.”

  It takes us a half hour to finish our response. I trade places with Cade, read our statement out loud, and tweak a few words.

  “This is good,” Cade says.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  He nods and I hit Send.

  * * *

  —

  Forty-eight minutes later, the Lake Towns Journal article “NY Education Commissioner Munro Defends Final Solution Assignment” goes live.

  COMMENTS:

  NYRes4ever

  I’m outraged! Not only should this teacher be fired, but it’s time to show Munro the door.

  8 Like Reply

  Instructor1

  @NYRes4ever

  That’s extreme and unfair. Because it’s the Holocaust? Sounds like a super-sensitive response. The Holocaust was deplorable, but I support this teacher and Munro—we need our students to learn how to analyze and think for themselves. No one is going to take this assignment and conclude that what the Nazis did was right.

  1 Like Reply

  NYRes4ever

  @Instructor1

  Extreme? Unfair? Sensitive? I have a family member with cognitive disabilities. In Nazi Germany, he would have been murdered under their practice of eugenics. For the millions of people in this world who fall into any of the “categories” Nazi Germany found unworthy of life, I find this assignment grossly offensive.

  4 Like Reply

  JESSE: (texting on his phone, sitting on the couch in the basement) Why did you dye your hair?

  HEATHER: (texting on her phone, in her bedroom, curle
d up in her hanging bubble chair, a book lying open on top of the crocheted blanket draped on her lap) Because I wanted to.

  JESSE: Is it because of what I said?

  Heather hesitates. The hesitation seems like an affirmative answer and that annoys her. But she’s not sure what to say to Jesse. Does she owe him an explanation? Why is she texting with him?

  Jesse keeps his eyes on his screen, waiting for those three dots to show that she’s responding. He’s blown his chances with her twice. The first time was at a Fourth of July party last year at Kerrianne’s house on Lake Ontario. He’d spent more time talking with Heather at that party than in the twelve years they’d gone to school together. Kissing her was one of the best moments of his life, and that says a lot, considering the successes he’s had playing hockey. They had fun on the beach—volleyball, roasting hot dogs at the bonfire, collecting rocks, walking in the surf. When it was time for the fireworks, they shared a blanket. He couldn’t believe how perfectly she’d molded to his body, cradled between his legs, leaning back against his chest, where a different set of fireworks was going off. He moved too fast, too far, and should have asked. He knows that now.

  He can’t figure out how he messed up the second time. He wasn’t joking about forming the Aryans. Why was she offended? She should be proud. He’s proud to be a part of a superior race—good stock, as his father would say.

  His younger brother calls from upstairs. “Hey Jesse, when you coming up to watch the Rangers? Dad wants to rewind and show you Hendrik Lundqvist’s amazing save.”

  “Be right up,” he calls, but then those three dots appear.

  HEATHER: Added incentive. I don’t believe in that superior bs. It’s wrong. But I’ve also wanted to dye my hair for a long time. I like it this way.”

  JESSE: Your dad grounded you?

  HEATHER: Who told you?

  Heather knows the answer, but since she was honest, she’s curious to find out if he’ll be honest back.

  JESSE: Kerrianne told Mason. Mason told me. For how long?

  HEATHER: Until I dye it back or leave for college. So college.

  JESSE: That long?

  HEATHER: Yup. But you knew that.

  She’d expected her dad to be angry, to ground her, but his reaction was way over the top. He yelled, called her horrible names. And even when she explained about the assignment and her reasons for dyeing her hair, he wouldn’t listen. She didn’t expect him to.

  JESSE: I was hoping it wasn’t true. It’s just hair dye. It doesn’t change who you are. Maybe I could explain that to your dad?

  Will he ever get it? Heather wonders.

  HEATHER: I don’t think so.

  JESSE: What can I do?

  HEATHER: I don’t understand the question.

  JESSE: You used to like me. I like you too.

  HEATHER: And you show it by being an asshole?

  JESSE: I was drunk. It was a party. Parties are supposed to be fun.

  HEATHER: Being groped by you was not fun. Having Mason pull you off me was not fun.

  JESSE: That was last summer. I thought you’d forgive me by now.

  HEATHER: Proof you’re an asshole.

  JESSE: I really am sorry.

  HEATHER: Why are you texting me, Jesse?

  JESSE: I don’t want you to be angry with me.

  HEATHER: I’m not angry anymore. I just don’t want to be with you. That’s final.

  Heather blocks him on her phone, then tosses it onto her unmade bed. Restless, she gets up, walks around her room that’s both her safe place and her prison. Standing in front of her mirror, she takes a good look at herself. Changing the color of her hair no longer feels like enough. She needs more, but what’s more?

  Jesse sits back on the couch. Anger rises, not toward Heather but toward Cade and Logan. He smashes his fist into a pillow, then picks it up and whips it at the wall. It’s their fault Heather won’t give him a second chance. Their fault for planting ideas in her head, and how dare they challenge Mr. Bartley. Traitors.

  The memory of kissing Heather on the moonlit beach frustrates him. He wipes his mouth, disgusted with himself, disgusted with her. He stands, rubs his shoes on the carpet. Heather and her blue hair aren’t worth the dirt under his feet.

  Heather opens her top desk drawer, takes out scissors, grabs a chunk of hair, and—

  A knock on her door startles her just as the blades snap. She drops the scissors. Several blue strands fall to the floor. Her hands fly up, combing through her locks. What did she do? She checks the mirror, closes her eyes, and sinks to her knees, grateful she missed.

  Another knock.

  “Can I come in?” It’s her dad.

  Heather opens her door, stands in the threshold, blocking him from entering her room. If her dad has something to say, he can do it from the hallway.

  He rests his hand on her doorjamb. “I want to talk with you.”

  Heather doesn’t move. She catches a glimpse of her mom listening at the top of the stairs.

  “When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong, and I was wrong,” her dad says.

  She answers with a blank stare. How can she respond when she doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about?

  “Your mom and I looked into that assignment. You’re right. It goes against our family’s values.” He stops talking. His eyes appraise Heather’s hair, appraise her. “As I said, when I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. You’re not grounded anymore.”

  It’s not an apology, but close enough. Heather bites back a smile and nods.

  Her dad answers with his own nod, then turns around and goes back downstairs. Her mom follows, but only after she grins at Heather and blows her a kiss.

  I check my phone. It’s been forty-two minutes since I last went online. After reading the same paragraph in The Glass Menagerie three times, I consider getting up and giving Dad my laptop. It keeps calling to me like the shiny poisonous red apple that tempted Snow White. I really have to finish this play for AP Lit and Composition, but it’s so…mundane.

  Don’t bite. Ugh. I’m as weak as Snow. I sit at my desk and refresh Bethany Beshett’s first article. This can’t be right. I refresh the page again. And blink.

  There are over 10,000 shares and 824 comments! It links to Bethany’s other article on Commissioner Munro’s response, and those numbers are close behind.

  “Dad?” I push my chair away from my desk and open my bedroom door. “DAD!”

  We nearly collide outside his bedroom. “What is it?”

  “It’s gone viral. We’ve gone viral. The assignment. The article. You gotta come see this.” I motion for him to follow me into my room.

  “Is that right?” he asks, pointing to the numbers.

  “Seems that way.” I Google our names. There is a long list of articles. The articles have gone viral! It’s stunning, terrifying, and thrilling. I begin at the top, bringing up a new window for each. Many are a version of Bethany’s article, linking back to hers. No wonder her numbers are so high!

  A few articles are frustrating, not because of the content, but because the reporters refer to me, Logan, as “him” or “he.” Is it too much to expect reporters to use correct pronouns? Apparently.

  I click on another headline: “Offensive Holocaust Assignment Protested by New York High School Seniors.”

  Dad hovers and reads the article over my shoulder. I point to the first comment. It has a link to a letter written by members of our state government. “Wow. Look at this. Five state senators and three aldermen call for Munro’s resignation.”

  “I don’t even know what to stay. This is a stunning development, Logan.”

  Opening up Google Docs, I set up a list of articles and op-eds with their links, then send an email to Cade, Dad, and Blair so that they can view and edit. I also set up Google alerts. Almos
t immediately, I get a notification that the Huffington Post and the Washington Post wrote about the debate. I receive notices from political blogs, Jewish online papers and magazines.

  Blair texts: “Got your email. OMG! AMAZING! Mr. Buttley should be crapping in his pants. At work now, will read more articles later.”

  “This will change things,” Dad says. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get my tablet.”

  I begin reading an article titled “Assignment Requires Upstate New York High School Students to Debate How to Exterminate Jews.” When I reach the third paragraph, I suck in a breath, then exhale. The reporter calls the assignment “child abuse and a sly way to indoctrinate Nazi beliefs on impressionable minds.” Abuse. Sly. Indoctrinate. Impressionable. Strong words. Abuse? This person doesn’t know Mr. Bartley, has never taken a class from him, and it bothers me that he wants him fired. So many people want Mr. Bartley fired.

  In our interview with Bethany she quoted us. “Our purpose is only to have the debate canceled and for it to never be a part of the curriculum again.”

  What baffles me is Mr. Bartley’s silence. He hasn’t made one statement to the press. But maybe with this kind of global response, he will finally understand?

  Dad returns to my room. I give him my chair and bring my laptop to my bed.

  Not every article supports our position. One website declares “Politician Conspires to Fire Teacher over History Lesson.” It says that Cade and I are pawns to bolster New York Senator Andrew Kelly’s reelection campaign and his platform to increase spending for public education. It’s so absurd, I laugh. Cade and I have never met Andrew Kelly, but obviously people will say anything to promote their agenda.

  Are we supposed to do something about it? It’s a question I’ll ask Lissa Chen.

  “Teacher’s Creative WWII Lesson Deserves High Praise” calls the assignment ingenious. Valuable. Honorable. The site is run by a white supremacist.