The Great Thirst Part One: Prepared

by Mary C. Findley

  Chapter Four – “We’ll Give You Money.”

  Since it was Wednesday, Keith had no last period class. He turned to step out of the teachers' lounge and encountered his father. “Hey, Mr. Brady,” he teased.

  “Not you, too. Did it go that badly?” his dad sighed.

  “No, not at all. She’s amazing.” Keith hurriedly reassured his father, who practically dragged himself to the coffee machine and poured out something that looked like an oil change. “Dad, don’t drink that! Let me make another pot. Sit down.”

  He busied himself making coffee while his father sank onto the lumpy old sofa that had come from the Bradleys’ living room. “This class is going to be fantastic. But are you okay? You look even more beat than usual for a first day of school.”

  “I just got out of a two-hour meeting with some of the board members. Apparently Veronica James complained about our new teacher engaging in some reckless driving yesterday. She got a little hot because our safety director never reported it. Something I should know about?”

  “Oh … Yeah, she got mixed up about the parking lots, and Mrs. James almost took her along as a hood ornament. She apologized for that. Luckily, nobody got hurt.” He decided not to bring up the black van. The last thing his dad needed was more stress, and he was probably making too much of it himself. Talia’s reaction when I brought it up sure was odd, though.

  “We have some new parents who moved in over the summer. They are agitating about how old the facilities are, how things aren’t up to their standards – sidewalk width, bus maneuvering area, student walkway markings – That’s mostly what the meeting was about. They wanted to know why you weren’t there, since it was largely about what they consider safety issues.”

  “Dad, you keep telling me people made up that safety director job. I had class, and then I met with Talia.”

  “Talia?” His father raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I’m not sure why these people insist that this safety director is something official, either. But this seems to be the year for blowing everything out of proportion. I know what you were doing, and I told them you had other obligations. These people truly worry me. They keep talking about safety, but some of the things they bring up don’t fall under the category of safety, in my book.”

  “Like what?”

  “They started out talking about sidewalks, and then it somehow morphed into civil rights. I got to where I couldn’t even follow the chain of reasoning anymore. Our budget is too small to make all these upgrades they want. They’re saying we ought to have a daycare for teen moms. We don’t even have any teen moms this year. Penny Stewart was the only one last year. Since she had her baby, she transferred over to the Vo-Tech, where they already have a daycare. Mrs. Landis tells me she’s going to take her cosmetology licensing test in January and will probably be making more money than me before next year is out.”

  Keith grinned, but his father sobered again. “Next they started in on some kind of special bathrooms. I didn’t even get what they were hinting around about. We have handicapped stalls. Why would anybody need a private bathroom or private shower in a school?”

  “Dad … are they talking about transgender facilities?”

  “Oh, no, do you think that’s what this is all about? Political correctness masquerading as safety?” His father sank his head into his hands as Keith brought the coffee and sat across from him.

  “Haven’t we been exempt from those kinds of mandates because the area population’s so small and the income levels are so low?”

  “Yes, so far. We have so many unemployed, elderly – the tax revenue isn’t there to upgrade beyond what we’ve been doing gradually as we win grants and get extra funds. These parents wanted to put in cameras to catch bullying – all kinds of things. These are not serious issues here. They kept saying I have a ‘Mayberry mentality’. Thankfully, this Bible as Literature program’s going to bring in some revenue.”

  “Revenue? How so?”

  “Ms. Ramin showed me the paperwork. Contributing to that big database of theirs entitles us to extra grant money for every student who signs up. We need to push this, Keith. I don’t see a downside. We get to teach our students anything we want about the Bible. They get fast-tracked for college acceptance if they have the course. The course carries Advanced Placement college credit for contributing to the database with their own projects, plus we get grant money.”

  Keith saw his father’s tension slowly ease as he leaned back on the old couch and sipped the coffee. He wished he wasn’t feeling a strange knot start to form in his stomach.

  “Dad, what if – ” Keith shut his mouth. His father didn’t even open his eyes and didn’t appear to have heard him. He decided to finish the thought just in his own head for now.

  People talk about gay rights, all these other rights, just like they were civil rights. Grandpa used to say that there weren’t any civil rights. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness – That was pretty much it. Thomas Paine had it right – Governments can’t give rights. They can only take them away. And Sam Adams said we have to figure out what the minimum is that we can give up to be able to live in a society.

  Grampa also said that even the Bill of Rights caused big problems for the country. The fact that they mentioned freedom of religion by name kinda put it in the crosshairs. What if we are buying into another fake ‘right’, the right to study and teach the Bible? What they’re just doing the same thing as with ‘gun rights’ – if the government controls rights, it’s easier to take those rights away?

  He couldn’t help the next thought that occurred to him, either. The government is telling us, “Just fill out some paperwork. Tell us how you’re teaching and studying the Bible. We’ll give you money.”