Scene from a School

Scene: A hallway with the white and somewhat brown checkered linoleum, the old radiator and window that stretched across one wall, the almost imperceptible innumerable holes from years of staples on the other wall, and pock-marked ceiling squares that would kill you if you ground up and snorted enough of it.

Two boys are sitting against the wall, facing the radiator, with knees just under their chins. They are taking the phrase "study hall" literally, and discussing the semantics of what they are doing and why everyone else is in a classroom, when the outdated loudspeaker system sounds.

Through the almost pure static of the loudspeaker - that spoke to either the lack of funds for upgrades or the unimportance of the messages it would carry - the words "Ricky... Principal's office to meet... Parents are..." could be made out.

"Dammit, I forgot out the parent conference," Ricky cursed.

"Why was it called?" Jake asked.

Ricky wormed up the wall and began a slouched walk down the hall with hands in pocket. "I don't know, probably because of missing class."

"Hey, meet you behind the portable before fourth? Your turn to drive to The Butchery," Jake called after Ricky's shrinking back.

"Working class gritty," Ricky said, shaking a peace sign over his shoulder.

The Principal was not in the Principal's office, but the Guidance Counselor and Ricky's parents were seated and waiting.

"Ricky, please have a seat. We need to talk about your grades," she ordered. She spoke names with a lilt that rose on the last syllable, like a vehicle working to crest a hill.

"Now Ricky is doing very well in English and fairly well in computer science, but his grades have been slipping in math. Currently, he isn't meeting the standards of the GLAD (General Learning and Achievement Directive) exam and, naturally, we can't have any child left behind™."

 "Not to interrupt, but shouldn't we try to nurture his talents? If he's doing well in English, he could be a writer or editor," Father chimed in.

The Guidance Counselor gave a smug, knowing smile. "A child doesn't know what they want to do for the rest of their life, and no one knows what will be in demand in the future. For this reason, all students are taught and tested on a series of fundamental lessons in the same subjects. They must all know this information. Without this basic knowledge, it will be very difficult to compete for a position of advanced employment. What if Ricky decides he would like to become a rocket scientist, but he hasn't mastered the subject of math? What is he would like to develop a superior form of corn, but he hasn't mastered the subject of biological sciences?"

She paused to clear her throat.

"Ricky has one more year before graduation. The school won't be able to allow him to graduate if he can't demonstrate mastery of all the basic subjects in the government-developed standardized tests."
 
Ricky looked over at his parents. Both parents nod their heads like Drinking Bird toys as they took in the words of the Guidance Counselor. Employees through and through, they understood that progress is made by agreement; you got ahead by agreement. Disagree and you may need to find a new job.

More discussion and pleasantries and he is on his way to fourth period, though, he walks past the classroom door and out the back door. Jake is leaning against the windowless side of a portable and passes a cigarette. He lights it, takes a drag, and looks up as he exhales. The too-big sky soars overhead, swirling the clouds to a froth, his cigarette smoke seemingly feeding the sky.

"Let's get going. I don't want to be late."