Mulligan

by K. G. MacGregor

  hadn't helped him much. "She

  doesn't like to be called Martha."

  The principal smiled and glanced

  over at his smirking passenger.

  "I'm really glad for you, Louise."

  Over a hurried dinner, the retired

  teacher told her boss - her friend

  - all about Marty Beck and how

  they'd spent the summer and fall

  in the North Carolina mountains. It

  was delightful to be able to open

  up about the one thing that had

  made her so happy in the past

  year.

  "You'll have to bring her with you

  on your next visit," Ted insisted.

  "I might just do that. But you and

  Dottie also have a standing

  invitation at our house, either in

  Florida or North Carolina."

  Louise insisted on picking up the

  tab, and soon, they were on their

  way to the school board offices.

  "Are you nervous?" he asked.

  "Are you kidding? I just hope I

  don't get up there and forget how

  to speak."

  "You'll be fine. Listen, I'm going

  to use about 30 seconds of our

  time to introduce you, if that's

  okay. This new superintendent

  doesn't know Louise Stevens, and

  I think he should."

  Louise nodded, shaking in

  anticipation as they pulled into the

  parking lot. Getting out of the car,

  she spotted her former student

  Michelle walking with her parents.

  "Ted, will you excuse me? I need

  to speak to the Sanders family."

  "Of course."

  Louise walked quickly to catch up

  with Michelle and her parents.

  "Michelle?"

  The student turned at the familiar

  voice, her eyes wide with

  surprise. "Miss Stevens!"

  The former teacher greeted the

  family like old friends. "Mr. Meyer

  tells me that you're on the agenda

  for tonight."

  "That's right. I can't believe

  you're here!" Michelle said with

  excitement. Her teacher had given

  no clue that she would make the

  trip.

  "It was important to me to speak

  out about this, too. I'm so glad you

  told me what was going on."

  "We're very proud of Michelle,"

  Will Sanders spoke up, placing his

  hand on his daughter's shoulder.

  "I'm very proud of her too,"

  Louise agreed. Her voice filled

  with emotion, she pulled the girl

  into a strong hug and told her,

  "Michelle, I want you to know…

  that I think you're one of the

  most courageous people I've ever

  known."

  Coming from her favorite teacher,

  those were words that Michelle

  Sanders would treasure forever.

  Ted Meyer caught up with the

  group and they marched into the

  assembly hall with determination.

  The noisy room quieted when the

  meeting was called to order.

  Louise recognized the chairman…

  Donald… Donald Sumter. He'd

  graduated in one of her first

  classes, back in… 1964. It wasn't

  that he was memorable in high

  school; rather, he'd been on the

  school board for almost four

  terms, now in his 10th year. And

  the third one from the left was

  Annette Hartig, though her name

  was now Mowrey. She'd graduated

  back in the mid-70s, and she'd

  been in the band! Louise would use

  that.

  For more than an hour, the board

  dispensed with other business;

  choosing vendors and contractors

  for specific projects, hearing

  requests for redrawing school

  boundaries; and proclaiming a

  special day to honor the

  Greensburg Golden Lions as State

  Football Champs. Finally, they

  reached new business, an open

  forum to hear from the community

  regarding the announced non-

  renewal of Darren Ulster's

  teaching contract.

  Sumter began with the ground

  rules: "There are five persons on

  the agenda for this discussion,

  and each will be given the allotted

  four minutes to deliver their

  remarks. No remarks will be heard

  from those not on the agenda.

  Following these speakers, the

  board will adjourn to discuss the

  issue in private, as all issues

  pertaining to personnel are not

  subject to open review."

  Taking the podium first was

  Darren Ulster himself, who spoke

  not of his sexual orientation, but

  of his love of teaching. He

  implored the board to continue to

  allow him to live his dream as a

  band director in a top school

  district, and he promised to

  always perform his duties in a

  professional manner.

  The next two speakers were band

  parents, the first of whom spoke

  of how involvement in the band

  had awakened in his teenage son

  an interest in school. He

  attributed this new zeal for

  learning directly to the influence

  of Darren Ulster. The second

  parent spoke of Ulster's

  dedication to his work, evidenced

  by the consistent high marks in

  regional band competitions. Her

  daughter had parlayed her first

  chair clarinet status in such an

  excellent band into a college music

  scholarship. This too, she said,

  was a product of the

  encouragement and guidance

  provided by Darren Ulster.

  Finally, Michelle Sanders' name

  was called. The girl nervously

  approached the podium and began.

  "Hello. My name is Michelle

  Sanders, and I used to play in the

  band at Westfield High School,

  but I graduated two years ago.

  Thank you for letting me come

  tonight to speak on behalf of Mr.

  Ulster. There are three things I

  want to say."

  It was obvious to Louise that

  Michelle had written down her

  remarks and practiced saying

  them over and over. Now realizing

  how nervous she'd grown as she

  waited her turn, she wished she'd

  done the same.

  "First, I want to say that I think

  Mr. Ulster is a wonderful teacher.

  He was friendly to all of the

  students, and he always

  encouraged us to do our best.

  "Second, I want to say that as a

  student who discovered in high

  school that she was gay, I would

  have liked very much to have had

  someone like Mr. Ulster to talk to.

  I have a number of gay friends at

  college now, and all of us felt like

  outsiders in our high schools

  because there wasn't anyone

  there to talk to about our

  experiences. We didn't fit in, no

  matter how hard we tried. One ofr />
  my friends at college even said

  she tried to kill herself back then

  because she felt so all alone. I

  think the schools should do more

  for all of the students, not just

  the ones who are straight. They

  already get all the breaks."

  The young woman's words weren't

  polished, but they were

  nonetheless from the heart. Her

  remarks held just a trace of that

  youthful attitude of defiance that

  Louise had come to appreciate

  over the years.

  "And third, I wanted to say that I

  have an interest in how all of this

  turns out because I am studying at

  Slippery Rock State to become a

  math teacher. I want to teach

  because I love working with

  numbers, and because a math

  teacher inspired me. But I also

  want to be able to be who and

  what I am, without worrying that I

  can be fired just because I

  happen to be gay.

  "That's all I have to say, and

  thank you very much for listening."

  Michelle came back to her chair as

  several of the observers clapped.

  Her mother and father both stood

  and hugged her briefly before

  sitting back down. Louise leaned

  over and patted her arm as Ted

  Meyer made his way to the

  podium.

  "Good evening, Mr.

  Superintendent, Chairman, and

  board members. I'm Ted Meyer,

  the principal at Westfield High

  School. With your permission, I'd

  like to yield my minutes on the

  floor to Miss Louise Stevens, a

  former teacher of mine who

  retired two years ago. Since

  you're new to this area, Mr.

  Superintendent, I'd like to point

  out that Miss Stevens was the

  1979 and 1991 Teacher of the

  Year in Westmoreland County. The

  best part of my job is leading

  dedicated teachers like Louise

  Stevens and Darren Ulster."

  Louise took her place at the

  podium as her former boss turned

  on the slide projector. Behind her,

  a large picture of Rhonda

  Markosky directing the high

  school band graced the screen.

  "Thank you, Mr. Meyer. Mr.

  Superintendent, Chairman Sumter

  - nice to see you again - and board

  members, hello and thank you for

  hearing me tonight.

  "I'd like to tell you a little about

  the woman in the picture. She was

  Rhonda Markosky, and she held

  the position of band director at

  Westfield for 32 years. As many

  of you know, Miss Markosky died

  in 1998, at the front of her band

  room doing what she loved most.

  Mrs. Mowrey, you were in Miss

  Markosky's band, were you not?"

  The board member nodded,

  smiling at the high school memory.

  "I could tell you about the

  thousands of students she

  inspired over the years, and the

  hundreds of awards she garnered

  for the school. But here was one

  of our proudest moments at

  Westfield."

  Ted Meyer changed the screen to

  a front-page headline from the

  local newspaper: Westfield's

  Markosky named Pennsylvania

  State Teacher of the Year.

  "That was in 1986. Rhonda

  Markosky is the only

  Westmoreland County teacher to

  win that state honor, so I don't

  have to say anymore about what

  kind of teacher she was." She

  nodded toward Meyer, who

  changed to the final slide, a

  yearbook picture of the two

  teachers side by side, bundled up

  warmly as they cheered their

  football team.

  "What I would like to tell you is

  that Rhonda Markosky was gay. I

  know that because she was my

  partner for 31 years. Throughout

  our years as teachers here, we

  kept that private, afraid that it

  might somehow impact our jobs.

  Obviously, we had good reason to

  feel that way. Now that I've

  retired, I don't have to hide from

  prejudices or from unfounded

  fears. I can stand here now and

  speak on behalf of the hundreds

  of staff, teachers and

  administrators in the

  Westmoreland County school

  system who are gay but who are

  afraid to come forward. I implore

  you to let them do their jobs

  without risk of job discrimination.

  Let them make their contributions

  to the education of your children

  as Rhonda Markosky did; and as

  Darren Ulster still does.

  "And when you resolve this matter

  of one band director, I ask you to

  consider making it part of your

  county-wide policy to make

  discrimination against gays a thing

  of the past, as much of the

  country has already done. Take

  this opportunity to teach the

  children of this county that no one

  deserves to be thrown away. You

  and the students will be better for

  it.

  "Thank you."

  The proud woman stepped down

  amidst sporadic applause that

  erupted into a sustained chorus of

  cheers. Red-faced, she walked

  with Meyer back to their seats,

  where Michelle sat with tears

  streaming down her face.

  "I'm sorry I never told you,

  Michelle," Louise whispered,

  misreading the emotion as

  betrayal.

  "It's okay, Miss Stevens. I

  understand. It's just… I'm so

  proud of you for saying all of

  that."

  "No, I'm the proud one, Michelle.

  You were my inspiration this time."

  When the board returned to

  chambers to discuss the issues

  and vote on the personnel moves,

  Louise was inundated with a steady

  stream of people offering their

  congratulations and support. One

  was Darren Ulster.

  "Thank you, Lou. It means the

  world to me that you came all this

  way to speak up for me like you

  did. I am so honored to have your

  support, and I'd give my right arm

  to be half the teacher Rhonda

  Markosky was."

  "You're a great teacher in your

  own right, Darren. You have such a

  bright future, and I only hope you

  get to play it out. If not here, you

  have to find another place. You

  just can't waste that talent and

  enthusiasm."

  When the throngs of people had

  come and gone, Louise found

  herself sitting alone with a still-

  crying Michelle Sanders.

  "Are you going to do that all

  night?" she teased.

  Michelle chuckled and blew her

  nose. "No, I hope not. But

  everything you said was so sweet.

  And
it just breaks my heart that

  Miss Markosky is gone and now

  you're all alone."

  Louise put her long arm around the

  young woman's shoulder. "It broke

  my heart to lose her, Michelle, and

  I was sad for a long time. But I'm

  not alone anymore."

  "You're not?"

  "No. I met someone new when I

  moved to Florida, and I was lucky

  enough to fall in love again."

  Michelle warmed at the idea of

  her favorite teacher and friend

  having someone to love. "Well, I

  hope I get to meet her the next

  time I go see my grandmother,"

  she stated hopefully.

  "You already have."

  The girl thought for a moment

  before her eyes grew wide with

  surprise. "Marty Beck, from the

  golf course?"

  "That's right," Louise answered

  grinning.

  "Awwww, Marty's so cute!"

  Louise laughed aloud. "Yes, she

  certainly is. And the next time you

  come down, the three of us will

  spend some time together. I think

  you and Marty will like each other

  a lot."

  Louise folded the newspaper over

  to follow the story from the front

  page to its jump on page nine. It

  was here she was quoted.

  "Of course I'm disappointed. I'm

  glad to know that the vote was

  close, though. It gives me hope

  that one or two forward thinking

  people could change the face of

  this school board at the next

  election and this injustice can be

  rectified. I look to the younger

  generations to take the lead in

  that, either through their parents

  or for those who are old enough,

  by exercising their right to vote.

  I've always had faith that the

  spirit of our youth would lead us

  all to a better way of life, to a

  world where we'd celebrate our

  differences rather than try to

  insulate ourselves from them."

  The retired woman was exhausted.

  The late decision by the board to

  uphold the superintendent's

  recommendation had left her

  feeling drained and defeated; she

  struggled to sleep, and was now

  fighting the discomfort of the

  cramped airplane seat.

  Despite her failure to sway the

  board's opinion, Louise Stevens

  felt a liberation of spirit she had

  never known. Rhonda would have

  been so proud to have seen her

  stand before all of those parents,

  administrators, and board

  members, declaring their love with

  confidence and dignity. Her only

  regret was that they hadn't both

  done it sooner, daring anyone to

  challenge their right to do the job

  they loved.

  Marty would have been proud of

  her too. Ah, Marty! After just one