Sophomores and Other Oxymorons

by David Lubar

  “I’m not doing it.”

  “You have no choice. I wish you did. You know how I feel. But my hands are tied,” the principal said. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “I do have a choice,” she said. “And I’m just doing my job.”

  She stared at him. He stared back. Five or ten seconds passed. Each of them seemed to be thinking hard.

  I didn’t want to miss a single moment of the action, but I risked a quick glance at Lee. “Any idea what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nope,” she said.

  I turned my attention back to the drama unfolding at the front of the room.

  Ms. Denton took off her lab coat and tossed it on the table, finally giving Splitz a decent shroud. “I feel sick. I’m going home.”

  “You can’t go home in the middle of the day,” the principal said.

  Ms. Denton barked out a laugh and left the room.

  The principal finally noticed that he had a class full of biology students staring at him. He pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt, and said, “Brenda, I need someone to come up to room 316 and cover Ms. Denton’s class for the period.”

  After he reholstered the walkie-talkie, he said, “Do something productive. Read some biology or something.” Then, he stood by the doorway, looking down the hall.

  Two minutes later, Mr. Cravutto walked in.

  “What’s up, Vic?” he asked.

  The principal pointed at us. “Cover this class for the period.”

  “Sure. What is it?” the coach asked.

  The principal glanced around the room, at all the myriad clues to the nature of the topic taught therein, including posters of plant and animal taxonomy, several animal skeletons, a small bronze bust of Carl Linnaeus, and a shelf filled with microscopes, then said, “Biology.”

  Mr. Cravutto shrugged. “No problem.”

  The principal left. Mr. Cravutto told us, “Read something.”

  I resisted the urge to reply, “Yes, COACH!”

  He reached toward the lab coat. “Someone’s not picking up after themselves.”

  As he lifted the coat, Lee tried to catch his attention. I guess she wanted to warn him. I put a hand on her arm. I wanted to see this.

  The coach had the coat all the way off the table before he noticed what he’d uncovered. He let out a shriek about three octaves higher than I would have expected, and probably four octaves higher than he’d ever want any of his friends to hear, and then jumped back.

  “What the heck!” he shouted. Though the word he used wasn’t even close to heck. “Who put that there?”

  Someone said, “Ms. Denton.”

  “Well, no wonder she’s gone. That’s sick!” He tossed the coat back over the cat, and walked to the other side of the room. For the rest of the period, which we all spent pretending to read the textbook, I noticed that every two or three minutes, he’d shudder, like someone had drenched him with an icy bucket of Gatorade. I guess I have to give him credit for not puking. Even so, I think I had a memory I would treasure forever.

  “Thanks, Slitzskers,” I said as I walked past the table on my way out of the room.

  It didn’t take long to find out why Ms. Denton had taken sick. Coincidentally, I was in the locker room before gym the next day when I learned the first sketchy details.

  “You hear about Ms. Denton?” Renzler asked.

  “I was there when she walked out,” I said.

  “No way.”

  Several other heads turned toward me.

  I didn’t bother to point out that it wasn’t exactly like being a participant in the first moon landing. A whole class had seen it.

  “It’s that evolution stuff,” Kyle said. “They wanted her to teach both versions.”

  “Both versions?” I asked.

  “You know,” Kyle said. “Darwin and the other one. Something creative . . . ?”

  “Intelligent design,” Richard said. “Yeah. That’s it.”

  “Who wanted her to teach that?” Renzler asked.

  I knew the answer. It was the school board. What a mess. Ms. Denton shouldn’t have walked out. She could have presented the material, and explained that it was a theory. She could do a lot more for science and knowledge by being the one who covered the material than by leaving it to someone else who might not care as much. But I guess the thought of being forced to teach something she felt wasn’t based on real science just made her too angry.

  ...

  Zenger Zinger for March 24

  Last week’s answer: “There’s a big hint on the pirate treasure map,” said John Peter exclusively.

  This week’s puzzle: “I got his heart beating again,” John Peter said _________.

  THIRTY-SIX

  This is a direct assault on the First Amendment,” Sarah said.

  “But not the part we care about, as reporters,” Richard said.

  Everyone on staff looked at him like he was crazy.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “The First Amendment has two totally separate parts. Freedom of the press is one part. Freedom of religion is the other. They just happen to be together.”

  “Let’s go to the source.” Sarah slid one of her textbooks onto the table. It was covered with a shiny purple wrapper, imprinted in glowing red letters with “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

  “Wow, it’s actually three things,” I said. “Speech, religion, and assembly.” It had never really occurred to me before now that they were all lumped together.

  “Four, I think,” Jeremy said. “Assembly and petition are separate rights. At least, that’s the way I read it.”

  “No wonder there are so many arguments about the law,” I said. I remembered what Mr. Fowler had told me. “You’d think they could have expanded on their ideas a bit, and maybe defined some of the words.”

  “All they had were quill pens and inkwells,” Jeremy said. “That’s a good incentive for brevity.”

  “People, we’re getting off topic,” Sarah said. “Do we, as a newspaper, have an editorial position on the issue? Do we speak out in defense of Ms. Denton?”

  “She’s kind of mean,” I said.

  “I think it’s too early,” Jeremy said. “There’s a board meeting Friday. Let’s see what happens.”

  “Good idea,” I said. This was getting too complicated. I was hugely in favor of free speech and a free press. But I’d never thought about whether all the parts of that Amendment were one thing, or separate issues.

  Why did this stuff have to be so complicated?

  • • •

  After the newspaper meeting, I went over to Lee’s place to study for our geometry test. Her mom invited me to stay for dinner. Her dad was bringing takeout from a place in Easton on his way home from work.

  Lee’s folks actually did something with Chinese food that I’d never seen before. They took the food out of the cartons and put it in serving bowls. As I was helping myself to some roast pork lo mein, I asked Mr. Fowler, “Did you hear about the biology teacher who’s getting fired?” I couldn’t get it out of my mind. No matter what we’d discussed in the newspaper meeting, I still thought free speech was part of the issue. And I liked free speech a lot more than I disliked Ms. Denton.

  “I read about it in the paper,” he said. “And Lee filled me in on some of the details. There are definitely some constitutional issues in play.”

  “I’ll bet she could use a good lawyer,” I said.

  “Her union will take care of that,” he said.

  “Will it be a good lawyer?” I asked.

  “Maybe.” Then, he paused, and said, “Actually, it
might just be a union representative.”

  “So it definitely won’t be a great lawyer,” I said. “Not someone like you.”

  “Scott, bull crap and dinner don’t mix well.”

  “Lawrence!” Mrs. Fowler said.

  “I was merely stating a fact,” Mr. Fowler said to his wife. “I doubt Scott actually considers me to be a great lawyer. But he seems to want to help this teacher. And I’m certainly sympathetic to her cause. The new school board is nuts. On the other hand, her actions have made the whole issue more complicated. I’ll look into it and see who’s representing her. If I can be of assistance, and I feel my presence would improve her chances, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You can thank me by passing the lo mein,” he said. “But keep the bull to yourself.”

  I expected Mrs. Fowler to protest again. But she laughed and said, “Stop that. You know we only serve bull crap when we’re having barbecue.” Then she flashed me a wink. I guess she’d been joking when she pretended to be shocked. And I guess I knew where Lee got some of her edgy sense of humor.

  • • •

  The school board meeting, at the town municipal building, was packed. All the people who hadn’t bothered to vote were now dealing with the results of their apathy. The conservative faction had proved eager to trim programs with the vigor and inaccuracy of a landscaper pruning a hedge with a chainsaw during an earthquake. And all the people who had voted against the budget, including the contingent that disliked anything that didn’t mesh perfectly with their beliefs, had come to see a witch burned at the stake. Or whatever passed for the modern equivalent of that practice.

  I wedged my way in, and found a spot against the back wall, next to Jeremy. The room was warm with all the bodies. The air felt angry. I heard mingled snippets of conversation containing the buzzwords of both sides.

  Ms. Denton was sitting in the front row, with two of the other biology teachers. There was a woman in a business suit at the end of the row. I didn’t recognize her. Right behind Ms. Denton, I saw several more teachers from the science department. Other staff members were scattered throughout the room.

  Mr. Sherman, at the center of the table of board members, banged a gavel and called the meeting to order. “I see we have more people here than usual. Please keep in mind that we have rules to follow.”

  What came next was a half hour of deadly boring discussions that nobody in the room cared about except for the board members. And I wasn’t even sure they cared. As I sat there, I thought about the cat on the table in biology, and the way Ms. Denton had waited for us with mops and buckets ready. That cat hadn’t been put out there for the AP class. It was the first day of school. The cat wouldn’t have been halfway dissected. She’d put it out just for the fun of finding out who couldn’t handle the sight. And that sure had been the case with me. I didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. She hadn’t been targeting me, specifically. It had just been her good luck, and my bad luck, that the fly she’d snared in her web was one she’d taken special relish in devouring.

  Now she was tangled in a web.

  Finally, Mr. Sherman said, “Next issue: the disciplining of Marianne Denton, biology teacher at Zenger High School.”

  A murmur rose from the crowd, swelling in volume past a buzz on its way a roar.

  Bang!

  The gavel had descended.

  “I will not do this again,” Mr. Sherman said. “If you people can’t act like adults, I will clear the room.”

  “He can’t do that,” Jeremy whispered to me.

  “No?”

  “No. There are sunshine laws,” he said.

  “I have a feeling he makes the law here,” I said.

  “Then he can shove that gavel where the sun don’t shine,” Jeremy said.

  I stared at him.

  “Too much?” he asked.

  “It seems a bit out of character for you.”

  “Agreed. But I’m pretty steamed about this.”

  He was far from alone. People got in line to speak. I didn’t see any students join in. That wasn’t right. We were the ones who’d be affected. We were the ones being hurt by every decision the board made. Someone should speak for us. I hesitated, trying to figure out whether I had the guts to join the line. Finally, I went up, even though I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. As people spoke, I was amazed at the range of comments. Some people made good points, but a lot of the speakers were more interested in promoting their agenda—whether that was from a scientific or a religious viewpoint—than in addressing the issue of Ms. Denton’s actions. I guess I had an agenda, too.

  Finally, it was my turn. I passed Ms. Denton on the way up to the podium that faced the board members. She seemed surprised to see me. I wrapped my hand around the microphone, stared straight at Mr. Sherman, and froze. The next ten seconds lasted about ten years.

  “If you have nothing to say, please step aside for the next person,” Mr. Sherman said.

  I hadn’t realized anyone had joined the line behind me. Not that it mattered. I gave myself a pep talk. You can do this. I suck at pep talks.

  “Son?” Mr. Sherman said.

  I was not his son. I was my father’s son. I pictured Dad standing here, speaking with the calm voice of Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. I was his son. I was Wesley Cobble’s friend. He was fearless. I was Jeremy Danger’s friend. He was fearful, so I had to be fearless for him. I was Mom’s son, Lee’s friend, Sean’s big brother, Bobby’s middle brother, and Amala’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. I imagined each of them, except for Sean, standing here in my place. But they weren’t at the podium. I was speaking for them. And for my classmates. If I could manage to find my voice.

  I glanced at Ms. Denton, who seemed relieved that her least favorite student was about to fail to speak out about her.

  There were murmurs from the audience behind me.

  “Please step aside,” Mr. Sherman said. He toyed with the gavel.

  Jeremy’s voice echoed in my mind. Sunshine laws.

  That was it!

  “Adenosine triphosphate,” I said, spitting out the term.

  It was as if I’d uncorked the viaduct that ran from my brain to my mouth.

  I let the words flow. “That’s a coenzyme that is crucial in the process of photosynthesis. It eventually reduces to adenosine diphosphate. During this process, which absorbs carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, a plant produces energy for itself, and oxygen as a byproduct.”

  I expected Mr. Sherman to tell me to shut up. But he seemed to be trying to figure out what I was talking about. I was tempted to toss in some Latin. But that wouldn’t do anything for my current cause.

  I pointed at Ms. Denton. “I learned those scientific facts in biology class. And I learned a whole lot more. I won’t draw this out by proving my grasp of Linnaean taxonomy or describing the molecular structure of the human cell. I’m not great at science. And I’m definitely not a science geek. At least, I didn’t think I was. I struggled through chemistry last year. This year is different. Ms. Denton motivated me to study harder than I’ve ever studied in my life. She is an excellent teacher. You can’t take her away from us.”

  I glanced to my side. Ms. Denton seemed as stunned by these words as Mr. Sherman had been by my brief foray into the realm of photosynthesis.

  “People have spoken about their beliefs. That’s fine. We all have beliefs. But Ms. Denton’s job is to teach us the facts and theories of science. However we were created, and whatever I believe, whatever my faith, whatever your faith, that is not the issue. Ms. Denton got in trouble for refusing to teach something that she felt is not part of a science curriculum. She is a scientist.” I pointed to the other teachers in her row. “They are all scientists. They were hired to teach us science. Let them do their job. Thank you.”

  There was scatt
ered applause as I stepped away from the microphone. And there was someone behind me, waiting for his turn to speak. He gave me a nod as he took his place. I stood nearby and listened.

  “My name is Lawrence Fowler. I am a parent of a student in Ms. Denton’s biology class. I am also a managing partner in the law firm of Geary, Fowler, and Goldsmith. As a parent, I have to echo the previous speaker’s sentiments. Ms. Denton has lit a passion for biology in my daughter. I appreciate that. The objects of my daughter’s passions don’t always meet with my approval. But let me speak to you not as a father, but as someone who is as familiar with the law of the land as Ms. Denton is with the laws of science. We are not here to decide whether creation science is a suitable topic for a public school biology classroom. Even if that matter hadn’t already been decided in a landmark ruling by a United States District Court, it wouldn’t make a difference. We are here to determine whether the school board can fire a teacher for leaving school in the middle of the day due to an illness. That, and that alone, is the issue at hand.”

  He paused. I guess he wanted to let his words sink in. A couple people shouted their disagreement. Mr. Sherman banged his gavel, but didn’t say anything.

  Mr. Fowler held up a document. “This is the standard contract signed by all teachers in the district. The wording in section twelve, paragraph three, subsection C, is clear. She was fully within her rights to leave the classroom if she felt ill.”

  “She wasn’t sick,” Mr. Sherman yelled.

  “And your proof?” Mr. Fowler asked.

  “I know she wasn’t,” Mr. Sherman said.

  “That’s an excellent example of the difference between faith and science,” Mr. Fowler said. “And since you are so fond of faith, I want you to have faith in this. If the board doesn’t immediately overturn the motion to fire her, and instead proceeds with this farce, I will offer her my services and file a lawsuit against the board.” He pointed at Mr. Sherman. “I might even be able to file suits against individual members. Thank you for your time.”

  The board members looked like they’d just opened their bedroom doors and found a half dozen zombies facing them.