Higher Education

Chapter Two

Rick also believed that he was safe from discovery. In the melee that followed, the classroom had been total confusion. No one noticed when he joined the rest—even Hoss and Screw didn’t realize that he had been in the room, and they had no idea how he had managed the trick until he explained.

It was a total shock to Rick when he was called out of class right after lunch and taken to Principal Rigden’s office.

The principal was there. So was Congresswoman Pearl, the three assistant principals, Willis Preebane, and two other people whom Rick did not recognize.

The congresswoman had managed to dry her wig, and she was wearing it. That was a mistake. After its soaking it looked like a strip of cheap coconut matting wedged down onto her head. Beneath it, her blue eyes glared at Rick with undisguised hatred.

“This is the one?”

“We believe so.” Principal Rigden wasted no time on formalities. She turned to Rick. “Ricardo Luban, do you know of the outrage that was perpetrated on Congresswoman Pearl this morning?”

“Yes.” Rick felt uneasy, but he could not see how anything could be pinned on him.

“Will you admit that you were responsible for it?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Were you in Mr. Preebane’s class, before the assembly to greet the congresswoman?”

“Yes.”

“And you were the last to leave that class?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Mr. Preebane?” The principal turned her head.

“He was the last. Definitely. He held the door for me.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And you locked the door after you, as you were supposed to?”

“Sure.”

Rick felt easier in his mind. They were going to try to prove that he hadn’t locked the door. He didn’t think they could. And even if they did, that was a long way from proving that he had set the booby trap. But the principal didn’t pursue that line. She merely nodded, and asked, “Mr. Preebane tells us that you then went on ahead of him, toward the hall. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Rick was uneasy again.

“And you attended the general assembly?”

“Yes.”

“And remained there throughout?”

“Yes.” If they were going to ask him what happened in the hall, he was on solid ground. Hoss and Screw Savage had briefed him pretty thoroughly over lunch. Danny Rackett’s headset hadn’t worked right. He had tried to read his speech of welcome from printed sheets, stumbled over every word longer than one syllable, and made an ass of himself until Principal Rigden finally cut him off. She had then made a short speech herself, explaining what a wonderful person the visiting congresswoman was. And finally Congresswoman Pearl had offered her own contribution, telling the audience how pleased she was that her own nephew, Willis Preebane, had decided to teach here, how talented he was, and how lucky the school was to have him. She hoped he would be really happy with his choice.

She had said it all twice, to make sure that the principal and the other teachers got the message, added that she was looking forward to seeing an actual class being taught, and at last sat down.

If Principal Rigden wanted anything more detailed than that, Rick would plead ignorance—and be sure that half the school remembered no more than he had been told.

“So where did you sit during the assembly?”

The question was totally unexpected. It left Rick floundering.

“I dunno.”

“That’s silly, of course you remember. Now, where?”

“I guess maybe I was near the back. Near the side door.”

“Very good.” The principal turned to the screen that covered one wall of her office. “Right here, in fact.” She touched the wall. “This is you, is it not?”

The screen showed a videocamera still. The resolution was not good. Rick sitting way at the back of the hall was barely recognizable.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Mistake. Should have said maybe, not sure. He thought of changing his story, but it was too late. The picture had flashed off, to be replaced by another, and Principal Rigden was saying, “The first image I showed was taken at the beginning of the assembly. This one was taken close to the end of it. The seat where you were sitting originally is now empty. Where are you sitting now, Ricardo Luban?”

“I moved.” Rick spoke automatically, but he knew he was doomed. If they had been able to locate him on the video image . . .

“We are quite sure that you moved.” The principal stepped away from the wall screen. “But where did you move to? During the lunch period we managed to identify every student in school today, in both the first and the second picture. I should say, every student except one. You are present in the first image, and absent in the second. Now would you like to confess?”

Rick shook his head. They had him on ice, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He would plead innocent today, and tomorrow, and if necessary for the whole of the next two years, until the end of his time in school.

It was with disbelief that he heard Principal Rigden saying, “I quite agree with you, Congresswoman Pearl, and with the other Board Members. Guilt is established beyond reasonable doubt. Such people have absolutely no place in this school or in our school system. We will take action for expulsion as soon as the necessary signatures can be obtained and the paperwork completed.”

“For the final, official decision.” Delia Pearl stared stonily at Rick. “But unofficially, pending that decision, expulsion will happen today.”

“Today?” Principal Rigden hesitated. “Very well. Of course.” She turned to Rick. “You are expelled from this school, effective immediately. The final notification will follow in a day or two. Please collect your possessions and leave the premises as soon as possible.”

“You can’t do that!” Expulsion, for a simple practical joke that had really hurt no one? Rick knew a student who had broken his language teacher’s arm, and another who had deliberately run over a science teacher in his car. Explosive booby traps for other teachers had been set, filled with shit or warm tar. But those people had received only trifling punishments.

“I think you must let us decide what we can and cannot do.”

“I’ll sue. I will.”

For a second everyone stared at him. Then they all smiled.

“Sue a congresswoman?” The principal laughed aloud. “And what lawyer do you suppose will take your case? Get out, Luban. You are as ignorant as you are stupid. Go.”

Delia Pearl’s mouth twisted with satisfaction, and she turned to Preebane. “Willis, I do not feel that we can trust this young man one little hit. Would you please accompany him when he collects his possessions, and then escort him off the premises.”

“Of course.” Preebane did not even look to the principal for confirmation.

Rick was led away. He was too dazed to resist. He hardly saw Hoss or Screw or the other members of his class as he picked up his school bag, and he did not say a word when he was escorted to the front door and his ID was cancelled from the entry system. He walked out into the afternoon sunlight and stared around him as though he was on an alien planet.

He went to the side of the school, walked out beyond the sports field, and sat on the grass. He was still sitting there when school was released for the day. Occasional students passed by. No one spoke to him. He did not stir or speak to them. Only when a long afternoon shadow fell across him, and silently remained there, did he look up.

It was Mr. Hamel, more like a turtle than ever as he stood motionless with his head pushed slightly forward. He nodded at Rick.

“Caught at last, Luban. And not before time.”

“You heard what happened?”

“The whole school heard. Would you like to talk to me about it?” And, when Rick shook his head, “Very well. That is your option.” He began to walk away across the grass.

“Wait!” Rick struggled to his feet and hurried after him. “I don’t want to talk, but I want to ask.”

“Better yet. We learn by asking, not by talking.” Hamel continued on his way, slowly pacing out of the school grounds and into the street. “So ask.”

“Why me? I mean, why did the motherfuckers dump on me like that? What I did wasn’t any big deal compared to some of the shit that goes down all the time in school.”

They had come to a bench. Hamel sat down on it and gestured to Rick to join him.

“Must you employ such language? Is your vocabulary so meager that you are incapable of other forms of expression?”

“What’ll you do, expel me? You never hear people talk like that?”

“I hear people talk like that every day.” Hamel sighed. “It never ceases to grate. Do you want people to wish that you were not around them? It’s easy enough to do. Or do you want answers?”

“Answers. Why did they dump on me?”

“Very well. Answers you shall have.” Hamel paused, studying Rick from battered sneakers to razor-cut hair. “You are not stupid, Luban. But you are a fool. For one thing, you consort with people like Savage and Carlin, who really are stupid. You are also ignorant, cynical, amoral, and unthinking. Wait a moment.” He held up his hand. Rick was starting to stand up. “I am going to answer your question—or rather, I am going to let you answer it. You are—how old? Sixteen? So you have been in the education system for eleven years. And what have you learned?”

“My grades are all right.”

“Certainly. Because nothing is required of you. It is easy to hit a target pasted to the end of the rifle. We are also required to make you feel good about yourself. The technical term is to ‘raise your self esteem.’ While you were in school I could not have spoken to you this way, because you had to be protected from the truth. Now I can. Despite all the work that we have done to raise your self esteem, surely you must know that you’ve learned very little.”

“I do all right,” Rick protested again—half-heartedly.

“You ‘do all right.’ Indeed. What does that mean? Let us examine what you know.

“You can read short, simple words, but only those you have seen before. You have a reasonable speaking vocabulary—when you choose to exercise it—but you are unable to read more than half of the words that you know. You have a rudimentary knowledge of simple science, and you can do simple arithmetic. I’ve hammered some biology into your skull, but you know little mathematics, and no economics, geography, history, arts, or languages. You can recite all manner of juvenile song lyrics, but you are ignorant of real poetry and literature. And you would be little better if you stayed here another two years and graduated.”

“Reading from books is a waste of time. Like adding up numbers. I got a calculator to do that. Reading’s ancient history. The readers do it for us fine.”

“They do—when they work, and when you have one available. But you miss a point. A person who cannot read can also not write. Writing—and revision—is essential for completeness and clarity of expression. But I do not want to digress. You have been in the education system for eleven years. How much, in that time, have you learned about the system itself, and how it works?”

Rick considered the question. He had never had the slightest interest in the education system. Nor did anyone else in his right mind.

“Not much.”

“But you have enough information to work things out for yourself. For instance, whom do I work for—to whom do I report?”

“Principal Rigden.”

“And to whom does she report?”

“I dunno. I guess, the Board of Education.”

“Good enough. There are a couple more layers in there, but that will do. Now here’s another question. How much of the county and state’s total budget goes on education? I don’t expect you to know the answer to that, so I will tell you. It is about four tenths. That’s an awful lot of money, a huge vested interest at work. Now, who decides what that amount will be and how it should be allocated?”

“Congress?”

“For all practical purposes. Very good. So let us climb the ladder of status in society. If you play one of your unfunny ‘jokes’ on a teacher, and are caught, you pay a small price. But a teacher, most students are amazed to learn, is the lowest form of life in the school system. Do something to the principal, that’s worse, and the punishment is more severe. To a Board of Education member, worse yet. And to a congresswoman, who is also a member of the Board of Education—”

“I didn’t know I was doing nothing to a congress-woman.”

“That is the plea of the foolish through all of history: I didn’t know what I was doing. But I, speaking as a teacher, tell you that I have no sympathy for you. Is it better to insult and offend and diminish me or Willis Preebane, rather than Congresswoman Pearl, simply because the punishment is less? That is the logic of a coward.”

“I ain’t no coward!”

The sun was setting in their faces, and Hamel shielded his eyes with his hand. Rick could see the deep lines on his cheeks and around his mouth. Hamel seemed ancient, far older than when he was teaching his class, until suddenly he lowered his hand and turned to face Rick. His eyes were alert and astute, changing his whole face.

“I believe that you are not guilty of conscious cowardice. So now for some good news. Until today you were destined for two more years of schooling here. Did you have any thought of continuing beyond that?”

Rick shook his head. For the past three years he had wanted to finish school and get out of it more than anything. “Mick makes me stay in school because Mom gets the education incentive bonus in the welfare. I’d be long gone if I could.”

“So now what happens to you?”

“I don’t know. Sit around and watch the tube, I guess, until they throw me out. Mick’s goin’ to kill me. The education incentive was nine-forty a month and we only get sixty-two hundred altogether.”

“So your education is a good part of the money. Of course you don’t get it yourself.”

“Naw. Mick takes it. He’s gonna hate losing that nine-forty. Fifteen percent—”

“It is that. You do percentages in your head?”

“Sure. That’s useful, you need it to play the numbers.”

“An undoubtedly valuable skill. Now that you are out you will have more chance to exercise it. But suppose that you had stayed in school. At eighteen, you would graduate. Even with your minimal skills, you would receive your diploma.

Then you emerge and offer your talents to a waiting world. Did you have any plans as to what you would do?”

“Find a job, I guess. There’s supposed to be plenty of jobs around.”

“In laundries, or fast food places. Or running a scanner, there are usually jobs in data entry. There’s also the Job Corps, makework jobs cleaning litter from parks. Plenty of those. That sound good?”

“Naw, but there’s other stuff.”

“Not for you. The fact is that perhaps two dozen of your two hundred classmates—twelve percent, as you will readily confirm—have skills that anyone wishes to pay for. Of course, nearly everyone has the grades to go to junior college.”

Rick shuddered.

“You wouldn’t learn any more there than you have in school,” Hamel continued. “But it would keep you off the streets, and separate you from the genuinely stupid. Better than nothing, but still leading to a dead end.”

“Bigger education incentive, too—it goes up to a thousand a month.”

“A thousand a month, to stay in junior college for two years. At the end of that time would you possess any saleable skills?”

“I don’t know,” Rick protested. He shook his head. “The way you talk, I guess not. So who gets the real jobs?”

“Who do you think? Those who have the real skills. A few of your classmates, perhaps, but mostly students from company schools. People who know something, people who have learned how to work hard.” Hamel shook his head sadly.

“It pains me that I have lived to see the transformation of the United States from a republic to a feudal aristocracy. Not pretty.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do. That’s part of the problem. You ask who gets the jobs. The answer is, people with knowledge and drive. There are jobs for them. Not for an arrogant, semiliterate, unfocused, troublemaking know-nothing. Not for an amoral, idle, cynical waster, which is what you’d be if you stayed here. I told you I had good news. Here it is: you are fortunate to be expelled from this school. Had you remained you would have wasted another two years, and at the end of it you’d have no more knowledge or capability than you have today.”

Rick stood up. “I don’t need to take this crap from anybody. I’m going.”

“Very well. Going where?”

Rick shook his head. “I dunno. Mick’s going to kill me.” He knew how it would happen. When they found out that the education incentive would stop, his mother would scream and her boyfriend—Rick’s “stepfather,” though he certainly wasn’t—would tell her to shut her yap. Then they would start in on each other. Finally when the fight between them cooled off they would gang up and turn it all on him.

“Going home, I guess. I got a truce with the gangs but I can’t be out after dark unless I pay, and I don’t have money.”

“And tomorrow morning, when you get up and school is closed to you?”

“I don’t know. Look for a street job.”

“Selling dope?”

“I don’t know, what else is there?”

“Theft. Shoplifting. Working as a pimp. Admittedly those don’t pay as well as being a pusher, but they stay out of jail somewhat longer. Live longer, too.”

Rick knew what that meant. Most rackets were controlled by gangs, or even by adult mobsters. Mick, his current stepfather, claimed to have good connections, but nobody believed him. Especially not Rick, because he had asked about getting set up in a good racket, and Mick kept stalling him. Rick was sure that Mick didn’t know shit about real rackets. And if you didn’t have connections you wouldn’t last long. You’d get busted or shot, maybe both.

Rick shook his head. “I guess I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I assumed as much. However, I have a suggestion.” Mr. Hamel handed Rick a small yellow card. “Can you read what is written there?”

Rick stared at the card in the fading light. “Eight-one-five-two.” He paused. The numbers were easy but the words were long and unfamiliar. At last he shook his head. “Not without a reader.”

“Then I will tell you. It says, 8152 Chatterjee Boulevard, Suite 500. Can you remember that, and find the place?”

“Sure.” Rick stared at the card. “Say it again.”

“Very well. 8152 Chatterjee Boulevard, Suite 500.”

“Got it.” Now that he’d heard the words he could sort of read the card, at least enough to remind him.

“If you go there tomorrow there is a possibility of useful employment.”

“A job?”

“Exactly. Not an easy job, but a worthwhile one. The most rewarding jobs are always the most difficult ones. You may keep the card.”

Rick studied the words, silently mouthing them to himself. “I know how to get to Chatterjee Boulevard. If I went there tonight, would someone be in Suite 500?”

“I cannot say.” Hamel stood up. “I must go now. But you have the right idea. Action is usually preferable to inaction.”

Rick stood up too. He wanted somehow to thank Mr. Hamel, but he did not know how. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Hamel paused. “Certainly it is not because I like you, Luban. I do not. As I said, you are a fool. And you are—”

“Ignorant, cynical, amoral, and unthinking. I heard you.”

“Correct. Did I omit to say lazy? But you are not stupid. You are, I think, basically very intelligent. However, all forms of test that might suggest one student is more able or talented than another were long since judged discriminatory, and banished from our school system. Therefore, I have no objective basis for my conjecture. But I do hate waste. You and your friends have been wasting your lives.”

“I still don’t understand. You just told me I’m good for nothing.”

“You are—today. I did not tell you that you lack potential. It is all relative, Luban. You believe that the antics of your friends are daring and wicked. You will be amazed to learn that this school, despite its many failings, does not come close to the bottom of the heap. Go south with me ten miles, and I will show you schools like armed camps, schools where student and staff murders and rape are a daily event. For you, with all your flaws, there may still be hope. I would like to think so.”

Hamel nodded and started to walk away, a small, stooped figure in the twilight. “Do you think I’ll get a job?” Rick called after him.

“I cannot say.” Hamel did not pause or turn around. “But if you do, wait a while before you thank me for it.”