A Lack of Respect
Some times you just have to stand up for yourself, and damn the consequences. Daniel Levin, Danny to anyone who asked, mulled that statement around in his head as he sat outside Dr. Strickland's office. It was something he remembered after the fact, but it was almost comforting. Stand up for yourself was one of his dad's sayings, and it'd be nice to think that if his Dad was still alive, he'd back Danny up. He might yell at me, but he'd admit Mr. Tausche had it coming.
Danny, doing his third year of a full sentence at Harry S. Truman High School in St. Louis, was six foot tall, 170 lbs., and dressed in an eclectic mix of studious nerd and skateboarder - he was wearing mismatched suede high top Vans skate shoes (the left one olive and black, the right one had been all black but was now black and gray thanks to liberal coats of duct tape covering the toe and outside of the shoe), baggy, knee length Jimmy'Z brand khaki shorts, a red t-shirt with a drawing of a dead rat head above crossed bones, and a long sleeve white button down shirt, buttoned only at the cuffs and the neck. You stepped in it this time, G. Just shut up, smile, and say your sorry to anybody who asks, just one more year. Just one more... Danny was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the door to his left - bearing the legend "Dr. K. Strickland - Principal" - open and a man of indeterminate middle age, a little thin in the shoulders and little thick at the waist, call his name.
"Young man, I'm speaking to you."
"Huh," Danny said, "sorry."
"In my office please."
Danny stood up, feeling self conscious under the gaze of the principal and the school's secretary, who had stopped her typing when the door opened. Dr. Strickland held the door open for Danny to pass by, and closed it behind them. They sat down, Danny on the hard wooden chair in front of the desk that dominated the room, Dr. Strickland behind it.
"As there is no excuse for your behavior in Mr. Taushe's class, I'll settle for an explanation. You're a good student, what were you thinking?" Dr. Strickland frowned as he looked at a notepad on his desk.
"I don't know." Danny was absently studying the floor.
"You don't know." Dr. Strickland mocked. "You just felt the need to abuse a teacher with mindless vulgarity that we both know has no business in school. But you don't know why. To say I'm disappointed would be an understatement, frankly I'm disgusted. If our honor students have no honor, and your actions indicate such, then what does that say about our school?"
Jeezus, he's pissed. Danny looked up. "I know that I was out of place, but he kept pushing, he told the entire class that I was evil and out to rob them of an education. I just lost my temper."
Dr. Strickland tugged at his nose with his thumb and the crook of his forefinger, frowned - sneered really - and cleared his throat. "Well maybe you are. Our teachers have a difficult enough time without this sort of infantile hooliganism. I'm simply speechless, but I have no doubt that your mother will have something to say. And she will have ample time to say it to you over the next three days."
"Three days! You're suspending me for three days for letting that asshole know what he is? He's worse than that, he's a fool, he's wasting our time, and I'm the one robbing anybody of an education?"
"If you want to continue here at all," Dr. Strickland said rising from his chair and leaning over his desk, "you will get control of your mouth. Who do you think you are? I don't care what you're opinion of Mr. Tausche is. He has been through the system, he is educated, he is certified by the state, and he, not you, is in charge in 231. Do you think your academic performance is going to protect you from such outrageous behavior? This is not a democracy, this is a school, a place for learning. You need what Mr. Tausche has to offer far more than you realize, and you need to remember your place." He glared at Danny, his lips pressed into a tight line ending in foamy spittle.
"At what price?" Danny glared back. "How many times do I have to be corrected for not interpreting a story the same way his teacher's edition does? Why do we have to read "A Tale of Two Cities" four pages at a time? Who cares about the significance of Madame Defarge's name? What about just enjoying a book for being a good story? How is dissecting the story into subjects, predicates and clauses going to help me understand the story. Who cares about any of that shit?"
"That's it, mister, you just bought yourself another 3 days, do you want to go for expulsion? You aren't here to judge us, we're here to judge you, and right now you are judged dangerously lacking. If you were as smart as you think you are, then we would have nothing to offer you, you remember that. You've got a long way to go before you're qualified to say what you should and should not be doing, or learning, or apparently even saying. In that room Mr. Tausche is boss, and if he says you're disrupting the class, hurting them, then by God you can take that to the bank. So now you've got six days to think about your actions, and if you're really smart, you'll beg Mr. Tausche's forgiveness, and you'll remember that your job here is you, not anyone else. Is that understood?"
Danny and Dr. Strickland stared at each other in silence. Five, ten, fifteen seconds rolled by.
"Is that understood?" Dr. Strickland repeated.
"Perfectly." Danny muttered, "I'm not coming back." He got up, turned towards the door and had it opened before the next thought occurred to him, "you can't just treat us like animals, this is my education, and I should have some say over it. What would you do if we all just stopped taking your abuse and left? It's not a school without students is it?" Danny turned again and walked out. He headed down the hall towards the front doors.
"Hey where are you going?" the security guard at the front desk asked as Danny headed out the first of the school's two sets of front doors ignoring the phone that had begun to ring.
"Out." came the reply, as Danny stopped to look back at her.
"Get back here, I need to see your permission slip. Hey, wait a minute!" The guard made a motion to get up, but instead answered the insistent phone.
Danny watched her for a few seconds, turned and left the school. "Now you did it, dumb ass, what next?" he whispered, and the only possible reply was, "some times you just have to stand up for yourself, and damn the consequences."
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