Sue finished greeting another youngster, a little girl, and ushered her and her parents into the room. They already knew all the parents from the interviews, but half the children were transfers and Sue wanted to ease the change for them. “They’re called learning environments here, Jack,” she said, “and yes, it looks very nice.” She surveyed the brightly lit room, half of it carpeted, strewn with big pillows and overlooked by active wall hangings. Billy stood back there, talking with young Phil Mathews. The other half of the room was uncarpeted, scattered with chairs and work tables, each big enough for four little people. “I’m excited, Jack. The room’s great, the idea’s new, and this blended class concept is interesting. The Opens have been keeping first through third graders together in these blended groups for some years now, but it’s new for me. I’m looking forward to it. Twenty-four new chances at the future.”
Jack laid a protective hand on the low set of shelves separating the two areas and smiled; he’d donated some of the books on those shelves. “I’m excited too, Sue.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Guess it’s time. Break a leg.”
Sue moved to the center of the work table area and turned on what Jack thought of as her teacher voice, a room-filling but non-threatening projection. “Good morning, everyone! My name is Miss Waters and I am your new teacher.” She laid a hand on the box in its cloth harness at her neck. “This is Jeeves, my companion. Parents, please help your child find a seat at one of the tables up here, then we’ll all see you at three o’clock. Children, take your seats and put on your companions, just the way I have mine here.”
Jack and Jim moved into the hallway outside the room. They had to stand there for some time, greeting the parents as they passed by on their way down the hall to the main entrance. Finally, they were alone and headed down the hallway themselves.
They crossed the open foyer, free of security guards and sniffers. “Why?” the principal had said on Jack’s first visit with Sue. “We’ve never had an incident.” Jack grinned and snapped his fingers a couple of times in reminiscence. They stopped outside the doorway and paused in the sunlight. “Well, Dad,” said Jim. “Looks like we finally have what we want.”
A panel truck was pulled up at a business down the street. Jack could make out the legend Stinson Alarms on the door; on the panel, a steely-eyed Uncle Sam fixed the viewer with a finger pointed through the firm’s slogan: “Eternal Vigilance is the Price of Safety.” He looked over his shoulder, back into the foyer, to see if there was a bust of Jefferson to notice.
“Not yet.” He stopped in the doorway and stared grimly at the panel truck’s slogan. “What we have now is only what we deserve. It took generations of neglect to get this far and it will take generations more to make it right.” Then he turned to his son and smiled, “But it ain’t over ’til it’s over, and I think we’ve made a good start.”