“F,” they yelled, except for the FU from the back corner.
“FU? Fordham University. Is that one of your choices, Paul? I snickered at his glare. “Okay, here's what we are going to do. We're going to talk about the world you live in and the one you will someday be the leaders of. How many of you think you want to be teachers?” Two hands. “Gail and Ken.” I pointed to the board and asked each of them how they would answer the question. Ken said that first of all, teaching was a job and they were hard to find, it was a profession, and he could teach a subject he liked. I just listened. When he finished, I pointed to Gail.
“Mr. Gilbert, I want to be a teacher because the world is changing. We need to learn a lot more than people did fifty or a hundred years ago. Not just for jobs, but for solving complex and serious problems that affect the whole world.”
“Does anyone have a comment?”
“I do,” said a voice by the window. “School's boring. So are teachers. Same stuff every day. What do I care about something that happened to a bunch of people two hundred years ago? They're dead.”
Ken said, “That's ridiculous, Bill. Everything that happened is a foundation for where we are today.”
Only once for the rest of the class did I step in to quiet them. I tapped the blackboard to bring their attention back. Just before the bell, the last answer summed up the class period. “The role of teachers should be to teach students to analyze facts, in whatever subject, and find uses for wherever our lives will lead.”
When the bell rang, all I said was “See you later, Paul,” while the rest were packing up.
“Come on, Mr. Gilbert. You can't be serious.”
“Are you willing to take that chance?”
The classes that followed were aware that something had changed, but each tried a different approach to challenge me. I think that my smiling at them and not talking confused them, all of them, but each class eventually joined in the mood. One senior, on his way out the door, said he thought this class had been the best he'd ever had.
Sandy waited until my room had cleared. She asked where we were going. I suggested the coffee store. Paul walked past us and into the classroom, and started banging the erasers. I stuck my head in and told him to take them outside.
She waited until he was out of earshot. “Too crowded and too noisy,” she said.
“How about the Mill? It's too early for the dinner crowd, or even happy hour.”
“Okay. I'll meet you.”
Another item to add to the list, the Mill had survived the time warp. I counted on that same survival of my relationship with Sandy. The Mill had survived, I saw as we entered, but not as the family restaurant I expected. I asked her why she agreed to go to a strip club.
“You want help and we can talk here, maybe better than anywhere. Let's find a corner.”
“No. This isn't the place I know. How about a diner nearby? Any one of them will be quiet now. How about the Jersey Queen?”
“Closed. Two years ago. They couldn't clean it up enough after the flood.”
“Then you pick. I'm not doing so well.”
“We can walk. It's just down the street. Waverly.”
“Lead on MacDuff.”
“You know that's not a real quote from MacBeth.”
“But it has its own meaning now. So, lead on, Ms. Horton.”
“Ashley, I haven't been Ms. Horton since my first year here. As you well know, my married name is O'Connor. Like the Supreme Court Justice. You've commented enough times about it.”
“Let's just go, shall we?”
“You really are weirder than usual.”
We walked in the diner and took a distant seat. Not having eaten since lunch the previous day, I ordered a meal and she ordered a soda. When the waitress left, I started.
“Look, Sandy, I know you don't believe my story, but the past twenty-four hours have been nuts. I'm not sure about anything, especially me. You said you would help. So now I'm asking what did you mean?”
“Everyone knows you have a drug problem, Ash. And some people suspect you're a dealer. Are you?”
“Apparently. But I'm not, not in my other world.”
“Oh, stop. That's denial in the worst form.”
“What I told you is true. How could I not know about the Mill, or fighting in the school, or even your last name. I ran into a cop last night, who I know as Jim Shaw, who is training now for the secret service. This guy told me his name is Brian. It's the same guy. In my other life, I'm an English teacher. Tom Jaffrey teaches physics. Rachel and Nicole are best friends since they were five. They collect money for charities. How could I make this stuff up?”
“You've always had an over-active imagination.”
“You're not being helpful, Sandy. I may be stuck here for a while until I can make things right again. So if you seriously want to help, I need to know everything you can tell me about the other Ashley. Frankly, I don't care if you don't believe me. I'll prove that some other day. For now, I need to know what kind of person I've replaced.” I took out my yellow pad and set it on the table. I wasn't hiding my notes and she read them upside down. That might help convince her, though I doubted it. I'm not sure I would believe me either.
“Who's Fritz?”
“Like I told you yesterday, he's a teacher here. In fact, I'm using his classroom. He's the one who first opened the portal. But that doesn't matter now. Tell me about me.”
“You've been at Riverboro High for ten years.”
“Good. That's the same.”
“According to the stories, you started to change, and whatever caused it, happened in 2008. You turned moody, stopped your involvement in student activities, and except for occasional visits to the gym, you came to work, taught, and left. Someone told me you had some kind of argument with Mr. McAllister about a teacher.”
“Do you know about what, or who?”
“Something to do with dating, I think. I don't remember her name. But she was a French teacher.”
“Good, that happened too.”
“You never missed school sports. You went to all the football and basketball games, even the away games, and then…” she snapped her fingers. “You just stopped.”
“What about personality?”
“You've been the same as long as I've been here. You used to be the faculty comedian with a joke for everything, even if people didn't always understand.”
“And the drugs?”
“I don't know. No one ever talks about it.”
“And all these things derive from my colleagues who seem quite interested in my comings and goings.”
“You were a good teacher. Then you just began going through the motions. Someone said you had planned to go to law school.”
“The bio still matches. Did anything happen in the spring of 2015?”
“Only that the school was hit by lightning. No real damage but we kept getting shocks for a while.”
“Where was I when that happened?”
“I don't know. At your desk, I guess. Why?”
“That day, Fritz held the door open for me when the lightning hit. That started his ability to open the portal.”
“And he could time travel?”
“Right.”
“So how is it that you can time travel since no one named Fritz teaches here?”
“Sandy, the story is complicated and since you don't believe me, it's not important now.”
The waitress brought my meal and Sandy's drink, and I considered all she had told me while I ate. She sipped and stared at me. If the school was electrified, Fritz's desk might still be the catalyst.
“Thanks for your help,” I said. “At least I have something to work with.” I took another bite of my sandwich. If anything could have elicited a sense of joy, her curiosity made me think I had a way through. It wasn't as important that she believe my story as my having a chance to prove it. I explained the desk, the doorknob and the paperclips. I told her that I had to rely on thunderst
orms since I no longer had access to the air force.
“And how did you have access to the planes before?”
“I want to tell you the whole truth, Sandy, but this part sounds so far-fetched that I'll undo any belief, small though it may be, that I may have given you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Just having her willing to listen drove me on. “So, the day Fritz found the portal, he was showing George that nothing had happened to his classroom. When he opened the door, now this was before we figured out how it worked, when he opened the door, he was looking into the Oval Office.”
“That must have surprised her?”
“Well, see, here's the problem.” I hesitated because I was about to blow my small amount of credibility. “In my home dimension, the president is Barack Obama, not Hillary. She just lost the 2016 election. Things are reversed. Obama won the primaries in 2008 and she served as his secretary of state.”
“You're kidding, right?” I shook my head. “So he's already been president. And what was that like.”
“Contentious. All eight years. But in spite of the obstruction, he got a lot done. He could have done much more with some cooperation. Most importantly, he got a formal agreement to bring peace in the Middle East.”
“You'd never know from what we've seen the past eight years. She tried but no one paid attention.”
“As a woman, she had mountains to scale in that culture. The place of women has a long way to go to reach equality, even equality of opportunity.”
“Do you think he'll try to do it now?”
“We used the portal to make it happen. He doesn't even know about it. You and I are the only ones who do, here and now. And I'd like to keep it that way until I can figure this all out.”
“Did you really meet Shakespeare?”
“Yes, and so did you. Really. I think he liked you.”
“And if you get the portal working, will you take me?”
We had reached a decisive moment if I wanted to earn her trust. “I'll show you how to set it up tomorrow. Keep it ready.”
She raised her glass and sat back. “You know that none of this is possible.”
“I know. But despite that, everything I've told you is the truth.”
She placed the glass on the table, slid out and put her coat on. “You've given me something to think about, Ash. See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for your help.”
Chapter 9
Ashley
DAY THREE PROMISED some stability. After my conversation with Sandy, I had scratched off chores on my increasing number of lists, buoyed by the fact that I had an ally. Food resided in a clean refrigerator and freezer. Cabinets were stocked with in-date supplies. My bed now had clean sheets, and I had a new underwear supply for two weeks. I shivered at the thought of wearing someone else's clothes, even if I was that person. And last but not least, the Riverboro sewers ran freely with contraband. Other me might be pissed if ever he returned, but not sleeping on thousands of dollars' worth of drugs made sleep come quickly and last through the night. I even tolerated the clock-radio, especially since the coffee waited, hot and fresh. My priorities had already simplified. In other words, I'd created a livable surrounding, and hoped I wouldn't be here long.
My classes considered a simple question on the third day. “Elections are over. Did voting matter?” I expected a heated discussion from these mostly white, mostly middle class kids. Most of them were not old enough to vote, but they would have opinions.
Before the day started, I went to the office to see if anything would rattle my upbeat start. Ms. Sweeney saw me approach in the hall and came to meet me. “Mr. Gilbert, he wants to see you. I came to warn you. He's mad about something.”
In all my years in my old school, Ms. Sweeney had never come out from behind the counter to talk to me, or anyone else that I could remember. I'd seen the old George explode before, but given that everything here leaned to worse, I walked in with trepidation.
“Morning, George. You want to talk to me?”
“Sit down.” That didn't bring cheer to my heart.
“What can I do for you?”
“You can stop making my life complicated.” The sound he made struck me as a growl. I wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny. The look on his face said no. “After school, I've arranged a meeting for you with the school district's psychologist.”
I couldn't mess around. Something bad had happened. “Psychologist? Why?”
“I'm privy to some stories about you. I'm not jeopardizing my reputation or the safety of my students for your eccentric ideas.”
“Do I have any input on this?”
“Sure. You can say anything you want. Even 'no.' I wish you would because if you give me any trouble, you'll be looking for a job.”
I nodded, my lips pressed together for a moment. “So my input is—I'll see you after eighth period. If I may ask, where did this poison pill come from?”
“I've caught wind of some rumors. So be here.”
My search for Fritz hinged on being here, so no cage-rattling. When I returned to my classroom corridor with no information to draw from, I waved to Sandy, and walked to her room.
“Have you been to the office this morning?”
“Yes. Why?”
“George is in a rare mood. He said he's heard rumors about me. Just wondering if he said anything strange to you. He wouldn't tell me what or who told him.” I watched her to see if she had been his source. She didn't look at me, but instead rearranged items on the desk top. She didn't have to say a word. “See you later.”
With my choices now limited, I proceeded through the day as I had planned. My students rose to the challenge in each period, which surprised me, after what I'd seen. The kids showed their family biases in answering, but their willingness to discuss voting in terms of policy outcomes fascinated me. When the discussion turned to how government should work as opposed to how it did, they found places to compromise. I wondered if Fritz had these kinds of discussions. In spite of my looming meeting, my day was fun, no, funner, than any day in recent memory.
In one American History class, a student asked if I thought term limits were good or bad. I picked up a piece of chalk, and squeaked two columns, yes and no. “All right, what are the pros and cons? What are the reasons on both sides? I waited for answers. Slowly, hands began to rise.
“Mr. Gilbert, we've talked about how the Founding Fathers envisioned government. Citizens, regular people, would return to their real life after serving. Now, their real life is all about getting elected over and over. I read that like ninety percent of Congress always gets re-elected no matter how bad they are or how little they get done. That can't be good for the country.”
“So, Dave, are you in favor of term limits?”
“I'm not sure. Wouldn't it matter how long the terms were allowed to be?”
Another hand went up. “From what we studied in ninth grade, I think government is pretty complicated. The House of Representatives has lots of committees, covering everything. I think that learning all the stuff they do, and the rules they have, would take years.”
“It shouldn't take years, Mary,” said Laura. “Look at all we learn in just an hour a day. If they can't learn what they should fast, then they aren't doing their job. And we pay them.” She looked around the class. “We don't get paid and we learn. Why can't they?”
“Well then, how long should they serve?” Mary answered.
“I don't know. What do you think, Mr. Gilbert?”
I told them that what I thought wasn't part of the discussion. They were doing just fine without me. “Tell you later.”
Dianne said, “We hear on the news all the time about lobbyists and special interest groups. And the news talks about how those groups control Congress. They write bills for Congressmen to introduce. They pay fees and contribute to campaigns. Once they control a congressman, or enough of them, doesn't that corrupt the system?”
Heads shaking
and calls in agreement were interrupted when Bob said, “You have to control a lot of people to get a majority vote.”
“But if staying in Congress for a long time is possible, you can get them a little at a time. Then others see how much the lobbyists give to campaigns, and then they want that, too. I read that Congressmen spend half their day asking for money. No wonder they don't get anything done,” Dianne said.
Dick jumped in. “Twenty committees and regular subcommittees meet regularly. I looked it up. So much information can't be absorbed when everything changes all the time. If you have term limits, the members who leave will be the most knowledgeable.”
“And they'll be the ones most set in their ways. No room for new ideas or changing information,” said Jason. “Old guys like things the way they are, the status quo. I think term limits should be no more than two terms, just like the president.”
“But the president has two four-year terms. What about changing the Senate to four years, and only two terms, and no more than four two-year terms in the House,” Jerry suggested.
While they discussed and sometimes argued, I forgot to write on the board, but I listened in awe. These were sixteen and seventeen year old kids. They weren't the same mean-spirited kids I saw on Tuesday. For a moment, I envied Fritz. I enjoyed teaching this way. I have to thank George for letting me try this.
As we neared the bell, Laura asked, “Mr. Gilbert, now what do you think?”
“I think you guys are terrific. This has been great. One thing you didn't mention, however. How do you get Congress to vote for term limits? They would be voting themselves out of a job. Don't answer. We'll talk about that another time. Keep reading.”
After the class emptied, I wended my way through the crowded hallway, past the banging lockers, toward the office.
“Ashley, wait for me.” I swiveled to see Sandy running to catch up. “Hi.”
“I have an appointment with George.”
“I want to talk to you first.”
“I'm in some kind of trouble and I don't want to make matters worse.” I locked eyes with her. “I know it was you, Fredo.” Her stunned expression confirmed my earlier suspicion. I continued to the office without her.
The Portal At The End Of The Storm (Quantum Touch Book 6) Page 6