Principles

Denis sat at his desk staring at the stack of referrals strewn across it, and began to wonder why he ever became an administrator in the first place. Teaching had been so much easier. You have a problem with a kid, you can make him someone else’s problem. Denis was now someone else. He sighed and picked one at random.

TEACHER: Pat Walker
STUDENT: Brian Perkins GRADE: 9
ISSUE: Brian is consistently talking in class. He is disruptive.
EFFORT MADE TO RESOLVE: Student conference (10/19)
Lunch Detention-10 min. (10/24)

The laziness disgusted him. Now matter how ridiculous he thought a referral to be, he had to follow through and call the kid in. The teacher would have his head otherwise. It was his obligation as an administrator. He had always liked to handle his own messes. He missed the old days where you could scream at a kid and get in his face to straighten him out. Nowadays you’d have a lawsuit on your hands, but even if you could let them have it, most of them would just shrug it off or laugh in your face. Denis couldn’t get through to kids the way he did when he was their teacher. As an administrator, he was an invisible entity to the good kids—a looming threat that kept them on track. To the habitually misbehaving, he was a vacation. Some kids did things just to get sent to him because he was a much better alternative to sitting in class.

He picked up his call slip pad and began planning out his week of useless lunch detentions and lectures. Carol appeared in his door.

“Yes?” he droned, eyes focused on his work.

“Sorrow to bother you. I just got a call from Ms. Hitower. Two boys were fighting in her class. I sent a cart to get them.”

“How’d she break it up?”

“She didn’t mention—“

“Thank you, Carol. Oh, what are their names?”

“Luis Maldanado and Justin Boyce.”

“Did she say what it was about?”

“No.”

“Okay, send Luis in first. Have Justin sit on the bench in the hall.”

“Will do.”

Denis was the hardest on fighters. It was almost always for one senseless reason or another, and he hated the idea of these students putting others at risk for something petty. Furthermore, these two were now keeping him from making any attempt at clearing his desk. His frustration grew as he furiously filled out new call slips to replace the ones he had finished for that afternoon, pushing the times back thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes. That’s all he was going to give these two losers.
He was almost to the end of his replacement stack when a large Hispanic kid with thick, curly hair filled the doorframe. He had thin, twiggy legs, which exploded out at the hips to a rotund midsection. His head was small and looked cartoonish. His features were small and squished close together on his face.

“You must be Luis,” Denis said, standing. “I think you’ve maybe been in this office once or twice before.” It was hard to keep them all straight with so many pouring in each day.
Luis shrugged his shoulders and threw himself down in the chair opposite Denis. He looked around the office, as if he were checking out a new friend’s house for the first time.

“What grade are you, Luis?”

“Eleven.”

“Okay,” Denis said, making a couple notes to himself.

“Hey, your name is Denny?” Luis said, snickering a bit and reaching for Dennis’ name placard.

“That’s what my friends call me,” he said, looking hard at Luis. “You are not my friend. You will call me Mr. Moulton or Sir, is that understood?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Luis said in falsetto. Denis stared at him pretending to be intimidating, but he knew he wasn’t going to win.

“What are we going to do about this attitude of yours, Luis?”

Luis stared blankly back like a five-year old.

“You’ve continued to be a problem for Ms. Hitower,” Denis continued, trying to find anything to reprimand Luis for.

“Do you do any work in her class?”

“Ieunno.”

Denis was trying to get upset. He was upset, he knew he was, but he just couldn’t’ put it into words that would shake Luis up the way he wanted to.

“What was this fight about?” Denis said in his most stern voice.

“Nothing.”

“Is that what Justin is going to tell me? If he started it, you could get yourself out of a heap of trouble by telling me what happened.”

“Nah.”

Denis sighed and pulled out another for from his desk.

“Three days Saturday school. You know the routine, I’m sure.”

Luis stared at him with a dumb smile.

“Be here at eight in the morning for the next three Saturdays. You’re finished at one.”

Denis looked Luis in the eyes. Luis still had the same expression on his face. He looked like he hadn’t heard a word that had been said.

“As for the rest of the day, you’re going to in-house.”

“Okay,” Luis said, as if he had just been sent to Disneyland. The school had a mandatory in-house policy for fighters. Denis hated it because kids would get in fights just to be sent to in-house. It didn’t matter if Denis thought they should go or not—he had to send them there.

“Get out and don’t you even look at the other one.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Luis said in the same falsetto he used earlier.

“Out.”

Luis moved sluggishly to the door and out it. Denis sat for a moment to collect himself. He was trying to be angry. He really was angry. Little bastards like Luis were the absolute end of his patience. But he wanted to be intimidating. Anger was what some of them wanted. He stood and stuck his head out the door.

“Justin Boyce?” he said to a short African American boy sitting on the bench outside his office. He was slouched on the bench, making himself look scrawny, but when he stood, his full figure was revealed. He was short, but broad shouldered and obviously very fit. He slung his backpack over one should and walked into the office, his head high.

“Sit down.”

Justin lowered himself slowly into the chair Luis had been sitting in moments before. Denis waited until Justin was seated, then walked around his desk to his chair and sat. He studied the young man in front of him. He hadn’t seen him in his office before. Justin had an almost regal look about him. He sat very straight, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Dennis contemplated how to begin.

“Luis tells me you two were fighting in Ms. Hitower’s class. Is this true?”

Justin sat silent.

“Haven’t seen you in here before I don’t think. Why don’t you explain to me why fighting is more important than doing your work?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Justin replied. “I’m getting suspended no matter what.”

“What are we going to do about this attitude of yours, Justin?”

Nothing.

“I just need to know what happened, son. If he started it, then—well, let’s just start with your account.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I beg to differ,” Denis said, raising his voice. Justin did not move. He remained a statue. Dennis held his eyes, and Justin did not look away. He didn’t blink. Denis could tell Justin was upset. That could work to his advantage. He just needed to push Justin a little more.

“Maybe I should just call home. What’s your phone number?”

“No one’s there.”

“Okay, give me one of your parents’ work numbers. Mom or Dad. I could just look it up, but this saves us some time,” Dennis said. He felt like he might be able to get somewhere with this kid. Really scare him into straightening out.

“Look it up then. There’s nothing.”

“Don’t make me. It’ll be better if you just tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Denis felt some fury rising inside himself now. He couldn’t get angry. He had to remain wrathful.

“Have it your way then.”

Denis turned to his computer and searched Justin’s name.

“Is this your home number? Seven one two, seven eight six four?”

“Yes. But I said—“

“Says here you’re a transfer from Long Beach Poly.”

“That’s right.”

Denis felt the power falling more and more into his hands. He was going to nail this kid to the wall.

“And there’s a secondary number: Three five three, two two zero one.”

“That’s my cell.”

Denis turned to Justin, confused. He wasn’t sure if he heard him right.

“Your cell?”

“Yes. I told you, man. Nobody’s home because I’m here. Those are my numbers.”

Denis was in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“How—How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

Denis was muttering and stumbling over nonsensical words, trying to find the right question to ask.

“I take it you want me to explain?” Justin asked.

“Yes, I think that is necessary.”

“My dad died a few years back. He was in the military. Marines. Number forty-three to die in active service over there. My mom’s there right now,” Justin’s voice was rising, “Has been for a year. On her second tour. We got no one out here. She put me in an apartment, but when the landlord found out it was just me living there, I got evicted. So my mom moved me to Lakewood.”

Denis still didn’t know how to proceed.

“So you—you do everything alone?”

“I work. My mom sends me money every month to help with rent.”

“And school?”

“What about it?”

Denis wanted to tread carefully.

“Why do you do it?”

“Why am I in school?” Justin laughed a little. “Why is anyone in school? I gotta be. Not just for me, but for my mom. She has standards. When you’re the son of two Marines, you learn about standards real quick. I don’t expect you to understand me, man. Let’s just get this over with.”
Denis was feverish.

“Why in God’s good name were you fighting, son? You’re parents don’t have standards about that?”

Justin shot to his feet making Denis jump back in his chair.

“No, man. They don’t. There are no standards when it comes to defending yourself or a friend. There’s only principles. I got principles. Ain’t no man gonna strip those from me. Not that bitch Luis, and certainly not you, mister suit and tie.”

Both men were breathing hard, but slow and steady. Their eyes still locked on each other.

“Now,” Justin continued, “Tell what my punishment is so I can get it done.”

He sat down in his chair, still holding Denis’ gaze. Denis was at a complete loss.

“Justin,” Denis began slowly, choosing every word, “if you just tell me what the fight was about, then we can clear this up. I can just send you back to class, and your time with me will count as detention served. Just tell me what happened.”

“No. Now tell me what my punishment is.”

“If you don’t tell me, then you’ll serve the same detention as Luis. Is that what you want?” Denis screamed. “You want to drop to that level? Look at yourself. You’re better than he is. Tell me what happened.”

“We both fought,” Justin said calmly. “For different reasons, but we both fought. We are equally guilty and I will serve the time that I deserve. What happened makes no difference. I have my principles, and if anything, I’ve learned that if you want have principles—real, true principles—you have to pay for them. What is my punishment, Mr. Moulton?”

Denis’ hands were shaking. He reached into a drawer to pull out the Saturday detention slips.
“Three days Saturday detention,” he said, his voice cracking, “Show up this Saturday, eight in the morning, and for the next two following. You’ll be finished at one. For the rest of the day, you’ll have to go to in-house.”

He handed the slip to Justin.

Justin turned to walk out the door, but stopped and said in a very steady, official voice, “Thank you, Mr. Moulton. I apologize for the argument. I hope you understand.”

Denis didn’t say anything. He raised his hand in futility, knowing that it was only for appearance, in case Justin caught him out of the corner of his eye as he walked out the door.
He closed his eyes and they remained closed until he heard Carol’s voice at the door.

“Mr. Moulton?”

His eyes snapped open but he wasn’t looking at her.

“I—I’m sorry to disturb you—I, um—Ms. Hitower just called to check on the two boys she...”

“They were sent to in-house, Carol,” Denis replied, turning his face to her, his voice the calmest he had ever remembered. “Unless another issue arises, they will be in class tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just—I’ll just let her know.”

Denis nodded. He watched as Carol turned and gently shut the door behind her. The stacks of referrals were not disgusting anymore; they acutely saddened him. With a deep breath he swept up the call slips in one motion and walked them out to Carol’s desk for disbursement. If he didn’t make it through at least half by the end of the day, he’d be hearing from teachers. It was his obligation.