In the Real World

by Nōnen Títi

  I can’t hear Kathleen’s side of the conversation, but Mariette hangs up with, “I’ll see you there.”

  For just a moment when our eyes meet I see through her mask; then she leaves the room.

  MARIETTE

  I go to school slightly worried to find not only Kathleen and Fred but most of the rest of our class waiting for us at the gate. I’m told that the news of our dissent has spread during the weekend and I supposedly have the support from most of the neighbourhood teens. Charlotte boasts that she’s never heard so many bad things about the principal of Flatland and her father even said that he isn’t popular among his own teachers.

  I have to admit it feels good to march into the gate surrounded by all these people. The first two periods are careers and a guest speaker who gets very few responses, for which Miss Coven is no doubt thankful. Shortly before recess one of the secretaries walks into the room to say that all of year ten is to assemble at the gym for period three and the four of us are expected to go to the office immediately.

  Jerome turns all colours at this news, Fred utters a loud, “Thank goodness, I can’t do another anthem”, and Kathleen proclaims that “the pandemonium shall commence!” I don’t know if it’s fair that they’re also in trouble, but I’m relieved I don’t have to go there alone. The secretary opens the door to the conference room for us.

  Inside I’m confronted with seven adults sitting around the large table. Apart from Mr Morality, Mr Shriver, the school counsellor and a guy I don’t know, Fred’s mother, Kathleen’s father and Mum are also there. So they went behind our backs and called in the big guns. I bite my lip to contain my anger and avoid Mum’s look. Instead I check out the unknown man to figure out what role he plays in this. He’s young, relatively. He has his hand on a folder in front of him and is busy looking us over. I meet his eyes for a few seconds until he drops his gaze.

  Mr Principal has put his eternal smile back on. “Can you kids sit down next to your parents?”

  It seems premature to question the request. As if we’d agreed on it, Jerome takes the seat next to Mum so I can be between him and Fred’s mother. I refuse to acknowledge the principal’s existence. I bet he’s intending to prove to this official prick how badly behaved we are. Well, he won’t get that pleasure.

  “I have resorted to calling you here today to discuss the possible suspension of your sons and daughters,” Mr Morality starts, addressing the parents, who react surprised enough that I assume they’ve been made to wait. He goes on to talk about our lack of courtesy, consideration and responsibility, our not standing up for the anthem, not coming to classes, not wearing the appropriate uniform, disrupting the lessons and a few more. He’s got them all lined up, found every little tidbit he could add to the list, including Kathleen laughing. With satisfaction oozing from his voice he reads them all out loud. I catch a grin from Kathleen but keep my attention on the official guy, who’s the most dangerous in this.

  Mr Principal goes all out, saying how much trouble they’ve had to cope with so far and the efforts he has put into resolving the problems, but in vain. “It seems we need to make it clear to these young people that the rules are here to be obeyed and if they cannot accept that they should be prevented from returning.”

  I’ve made sure to keep a smile on my face while slowly shaking my head at his words and it pays off.

  “Can we hear the account from the students?” the official asks, looking at me.

  “Can I first ask what your function is in this?” I use my most mature and polite voice, which, to my annoyance, isn’t as stable as I’d like it to be. But he won’t get proof of misbehaviour at this meeting.

  He explains that he is a representative for a committee that assesses the severity of misconduct in public schools. He works for the department but he stresses that the committee is independent and has an advisory role, no more.

  “So you’re not the expulsion committee then?” Kathleen asks, attempting a joke.

  I don’t appreciate that right now and try to tell her that without words.

  “No, I’m not,” the man answers, more relaxed than I would have believed possible for a stiff.

  “What happened in the past weeks is no more than a series of disagreements between us and various teachers about subjects they introduced to us through careers and civics classes,” says Jerome. “They ask us to think about these issues but refuse to accept our questions or our opinions unless they concur with those of the school. Some of those disagreements resulted in angry voices. That’s all that’s happened.” He says it in a manner much more calm and more convincing of our maturity than I could have done.

  “We’ve never caused any trouble while there are lots students who do nothing but get in fights, use drugs or be absent. All we did was not stand up during the assembly. That can’t be enough reason to kick us out,” Fred says, ignoring his mother’s nudges to make him be silent.

  She seems as distressed as Mum is, if not more. Both are red-faced. They must feel berated. If schools call in the parents, they are in principle accusing them of not doing their job right, though Kathleen’s father doesn’t seem to suffer. He’s leaning back in his chair, both hands folded on the book on his lap and he winks when I look at him.

  The official asks the school counsellor for her input, but all she can do is admit she’s never been called for problems involving any of us.

  “It isn’t as much a case of misbehaviour as of setting the wrong example for the rest of the school,” Mr Shriver puts in his part, and describes the assembly.

  “Is there a law that states that all citizens have to stand for the national anthem at all times – a law that makes it possible for these people to be punished for being unpatriotic?” Kathleen’s dad asks.

  “It is expected that all students follow the accepted code of conduct.”

  “But is there a law or a school rule that makes it so, or is it acceptable for people to refuse to stand up for reasons of principle?”

  “These are kids; they have no principles,” the principal answers. “By attending school they agree to abide by the rules.”

  I bite my lip to let Kathleen’s father argue this. “But they haven’t agreed to attend school, have they? This is a public school and it’s a public law that makes attendance compulsory, so they’re not here out of free choice,” he says.

  “Nevertheless, they have a responsibility.”

  Kathleen’s dad opens the book he was holding and which turns out to be the school prospectus. “‘Student Rights’,” he reads out loud. “‘To be treated fairly and equally; to feel safe and secure; to be able to work and play without negative interference; to be well taught; to express their concerns and to have a legitimate voice within the school’.”

  I’m beginning to like my best friend’s dad more by the minute. Mr Morality does not. “It also says that the kids have to behave according to the rules, attend classes and follow the instructions of the teachers,” he says, his voice a little less controlled, a little less polite and a bit louder than before.

  “It says ‘reasonable instructions’,” Kathleen’s dad corrects him. “It also says it’s a student’s responsibility to show respect to all members of the school. Do you kids think you’ve managed that?” He looks at Kathleen first, but then at me for a response.

  Kathleen has no doubt talked details at her home so there’s little use denying. “Like Jerome said, we were all angry, so things may have been said that weren’t as respectful as they should have been.”

  “Do you think you should apologize for that?”

  “You know, I wasn’t the only one using insults.”

  Mum makes a gesture to indicate I shouldn’t talk back.

  “That may be so, but what if an apology from your side could solve this issue?” Kathleen’s dad insists.

  He can’t push me like that. It isn’t fair; he was on our side a minute ago. I’m not saying sorry. I try to work out how the others would respond but they all seem t
o be waiting for me.

  “There you have it. She’s not prepared to give in. I see no other option than suspension,” Mr Self-Righteous says, looking at the committee member.

  “I see little evidence of these children being disruptive. They seem quite calm and more intelligent than most of our problem cases.”

  I can’t help exchanging glances with Kathleen.

  “That’s because they’re playing an act. They had one of my teachers call in sick and another needing counselling and they – she especially – use foul language directed at the teachers.” The principal’s voice betrays his distress and the official must have worked out by now that it isn’t just the students who aren’t in control.

  “I can’t believe my son would be saying things like that. We brought him up well,” Fred’s mother whimpers.

  I don’t look at Mum. She’ll have no doubt about the insolence of her daughter, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut.

  Kathleen’s dad starts proposing an agreement with the school, in which we’re supposed to apologize and won’t be suspended. Both the official and Mr Shriver are open to it, which makes it difficult for Principal Morality to argue, but I don’t want an agreement. He can suspend me, for good if needed, but I’m not going on my knees for this prick.

  Jerome is the first to be asked the question. “I don’t believe I’ve made any comments I need to apologize for, but I’m sorry for what it is that offended you.”

  I hadn’t expected this kind of stand from Jerome and I wish I had his talent for diplomacy. That’s apart from the fact that Jerome has nothing to apologize for where I probably do.

  The attention is on me suddenly, but I can’t. I don’t even have the words to talk around it right now. I look at Kathleen’s dad, since he seems the only reasonable person here. He understands my message fine and asks Fred.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Fred tells the table.

  They accept this without a frown. Kathleen raises her eyebrows. I shake my head slightly. She answers with a shrug as if to say it isn’t a big deal and says the words. Her tone overflows with scorn, yet she said what they wanted to hear; she submitted to their gloating. I feel the blood pulsing in my temples. I hate standing alone like this.

  “For heaven’s sake, Mariette, don’t be so rude. You can at least apologize to your principal,” Mum says.

  But that is exactly what I can’t do; not to him. I don’t even know why. I ignore Mum in favour of Kathleen’s dad. “I can’t say sorry on command. It wouldn’t be sincere,” I tell him.

  “Not even if it means you avoid being suspended?”

  I want to answer him, to explain, but all I end up doing is make a stupid gesture with my arm.

  “She can’t,” Kathleen’s dad translates for me.

  “Of course she can,” says Mum. “Everybody else can. Show some respect.”

  “I think, Mrs Puissant, that this is a question of respect for personal values rather than authority,” Kathleen’s dad explains.

  Mum mutters something about rightful conduct, but she doesn’t contradict him out loud.

  Chuffed with himself for having proven my intractability, Mr Moralistic tells Mum he has no other option and I shall be suspended for a month starting today, not counting the term break. In his haste he marks it on the calendar before Mr Shriver points out that it covers the two weeks of work experience after the break. Mum tries to rescue the case by promising I’ll improve my behaviour and this won’t happen again – promises she can’t make on my behalf – but the principal won’t let go of his victory. He excuses himself to go do the necessary paperwork.

  The bell goes; the official leaves, the vice-principal leaves, the counsellor leaves and the parents stand around saying their kids have never done anything like this before. Mum is bright red.

  “I should have refused too, I could have had a six week holiday,” Kathleen says.

  “We’re going home,” Fred’s mother tells him.

  “Sadly, I wasn’t suspended. I’m doomed to spend the rest of the day in this prison,” he replies.

  His mother threatens that he’ll hear from his father tonight and walks out.

  “You can go home. I’m sure I have plenty of time to get there on my own,” I tell Mum.

  “If you behave here only half as badly as you do at home this is more than justified,” she says.

  “Thank you for understanding,” I say to Kathleen’s dad when I walk to the car park with him.

  “So what will you do now?” he asks.

  “Have a really long holiday, I guess.”

  “What about after; will you raise your opinion again?”

  “I don’t know. I’m suddenly seeing all these things that are wrong. I can’t just pretend they don’t exist, can I?”

  “Just remember who you’re fighting with. You can’t win, Mariette. Right or wrong, the authorities always win and they have your future in their hands.”

  “So what do I do; just give up?”

  “That’s a problem a lot of people in the past have had to solve for themselves.”

  “I can’t do that. It’s wrong.”

  “Just remember who you battle with.”

  I hang around the milk bar until lunch so I can meet up with Kathleen, Jerome and Fred. The rest of the class turns up too, all saying how unfair this is and how much they’d also like to get out of work experience. After that I go home, ignore Mum’s attempt to start up again and lock myself in my room. I can hear her complaining to herself downstairs.

  When she’s out picking up Miranda, Jerome comes home. There’s little use in him going anymore, but it doesn’t seem to occur to him that he could also take the last weeks off. On the other hand he might be glad to be rid of me. He gets on fine with Fred and Kathleen. She likes him, I can see that in her eyes, and everybody likes Kathleen, so I’m sure Jerome is no exception. For some reason I step out of my room when I hear him on the stairs. “That was a pretty good speech you made to that guy.”

  “It was true, wasn’t it?” he asks, stopping at his door, willing to listen even though I always ignore him.

  “Do you think I was wrong?” I ask.

  “No, not in principle.”

  “So what do you think?” I remember too late that I don’t give a damn what he thinks.

  “That you’re stubborn.”

  “Oh, what makes you think that?” I ask, trying to sound sarcastic.

  “Grandpa Will. He says you’re as bad as Granannie.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “After that telephone. He also told me you had better come next time or he’ll come and get you.”

  I try to work out if he’s serious. “Grandpa Will hates long-distance driving.”

  “Yeah, but I still don’t think he’s bluffing,” Jerome says.

  “I’m not stubborn. I just can’t go.”

  “Because you fought with Granannie? That’s a long time ago and she loves you. Just imagine how you’d feel if something happened to her before you had a chance to make up.”

  That sure helps me feel better.

  Jerome takes his bag from his shoulder and leans against the doorpost. “Call her first then,” he says.

  “I can’t.” How could I?

  “So you are stubborn?”

  You bet. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn to go back into my room.

  “You’re evading the subject, which is what you blame the teachers for.”

  “Stop it, Jerome; it’s none of your- …whatever. Just leave me alone.”

  “It is my business if it means my chance to visit Dad is at risk.”

  “Your visit with your dad is a whole lot more at risk if I come.”

  “Do you still feel guilty?”

  I leave him standing and slam the door of my room.

  JEROME

  Oh well, I told her what Grandpa Will asked. It won’t do any good but I told her. I don’t go down until Aunt Karen calls for dinner. It’s a general call
to which Mariette doesn’t respond. I meet Uncle Gerard, who just came in from the garage, in the hall.

  “Just ten more days. Are you looking forward to going back?” he asks.

  “A little.”

  “The way Mariette has been behaving towards you, I can’t imagine you’d want to stay,” Aunt Karen says, taking my uncle’s coat.

  “Mariette got kicked out of school,” Miranda says to her father.

  “What did I say about keeping quiet?” Aunt Karen scolds her.

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later, Gerard. Let’s eat first.”

  “Is that why there are only four places set?”

  “There’s no talking to her. I have no idea what to do anymore,” Aunt Karen begins, forgetting her own words.

  She tells him she got a phone call from the school saying there was a serious problem she needed to come in for, which had her worried sick all the way, only to be asked to wait in the conference room for half an hour without being told what it was. “Then the principal comes in and threatens that he’s about to expel the kids. It turns out it was all blown over the top; they’d be let off with an apology, but then of course Mariette refused to apologize. The others all did, but she shames me. I’ve had it, Gerard. I can’t take anymore.”

  “We’ll go to the farm and sort it out there.”

  “She won’t come, Gerard, I know. She’ll pull a trick like last time.”

  After dinner Uncle Gerard keeps me from going upstairs. “What happened to make the principal to go to this extreme?”

  “Not much. We had a disagreement.”

  “I gathered that much. I would like to know what it was exactly you and Mariette said to him.”

  “I didn’t really say anything. I just stayed seated for the anthem.”

  “So what did Mariette do or say to not be present at that assembly?”

  “We don’t always go to that anyway.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking, Jerome. There was a reason she left alone and your class finished early.”

  Uncle Gerard only knows what he heard from my aunt and which she in turn was told by the principal. Chances are the details have been twisted and most likely not in Mariette’s favour.