“Why Billy?”
“I don’t know. It could just be random. You are right about the disruptive influence angle, but it’s not really a loophole. It does have a legitimate purpose and it evolved out of court decisions over many years. It’s not going to go away. Of course, that’s not to say that it couldn’t be exploited the way you suspect it is. It would be a clever form of insurance for Junior.”
“So maybe Barstow is on the take.”
“No, Jack,” she shook her head and looked at him solemnly. “Coming from anyone else, in fact, that comment of yours would earn them a slap. I just don’t think it’s possible. Look, she’s new, she’s naive, but she’s a teacher. That’s not a job you just happen to take because nothing else is available, especially not at this level of education. It’s a vocation. New teachers are all idealists and cockeyed optimists. You can wear them down, burn them out, and piss them off but it’s hard to make them quit. You can turn them into cynics and sour their dispositions, even towards their students. But you really can’t corrupt them, certainly not with money, not the way you think or for the purpose you suspect.”
“You sound very sure of yourself.”
“I am. Besides, I know the woman. This is her third year with us and I’m on her evaluation team, so I know her work, too. She’s very reserved, kind of formal, but she’s got the gift.”
Waters played with her coffee a moment, then said, “You know, Jack, it could be as simple as she believes what she’s saying.”
“What, you’re saying Billy really is disruptive?” He squirmed and glared at her.
She ignored the display. “By her lights, yes. Look, Jack, don’t get upset. I don’t believe that Billy is disruptive in any sense that you or I understand it, but Barstow and Bongaro—a lot of the staff—they’re a different generation. They’re twenty years younger than us. They think differently.”
“So she only thinks Billy’s got a problem. This is supposed to make me feel better?”
“Ease up, Jack. You know the old saying, ‘What people believe to be true is true in its effect’? that’s the situation here. People in her generation believe in their bones that something’s out to get them, that violence is just under the surface. We’ve got detector arches and ID checks and security guards at the school and in my, what, fifteen years there, there has never been an incident. Not one. You and I would say they’re not needed. She and her generation would say that nothing happened because the guards and security are there.”
“ ‘Why are you snapping your fingers,’ eh?” said Jack with a grin.
She started to mime finger-snapping in a slow rhythm. “ ‘To keep the elephants away,’ ” she said, continuing the old joke.
“ ‘I don’t see any elephants around here.’ ”
“ ‘See? It works!’ ” She shrugged and held up her hands in surrender. “I ought to tell that joke more often. It’s a lot clearer than just saying, ‘You can’t prove a negative.’ ”
“Seriously, Sue. Do you honestly think that Barstow believes Billy could be violent?”
She nodded. “Oh, if you asked her point blank like that, I’m sure she’d deny it. But deep down, that’s exactly what she’s afraid of. The way she sees it, violent criminals dress, think and act differently from everyone else; therefore, anyone who dresses or thinks or acts differently must be, potentially at least, a violent criminal. She believes it because that’s what she’s been told over and over again.”
“So what’s somebody like that doing in an elementary school?”
“Same as the rest of us. Teaching kids.”
“Shouldn’t be. Not with ideas like that.”
“Well! Listen to Mr. Free Thought! You think you’re immune?”
“I don’t think in sound-bites, if that’s what you mean.”
She smirked. “You don’t, huh? OK, smarty, here’s a little test for you. I’ll give you the start of a phrase, you finish it as quickly as you can. Ready?” She waited. When he saw that she was serious, Jack leaned forward in his seat and nodded.
“ ‘War... hunh!... ’ ” Sue grunted.
“ ‘What is it good for?’ ”
“ ‘Ban...’ ”
“ ‘The bomb.’ ”
“ ‘Silence is…’ ”
“ ‘Death.’ ”
“ ‘Impeach…’ ”
“ ‘Earl Warren.’ ” Jack made a face. “Where did that come from? I mean Nixon. ‘Impeach Nixon. Now.’ ”
Sue laughed. “See what I mean? We all have them and don’t even know it. If I don’t grunt after the word ‘war’ I get ‘War is hell,’ but that’s a different generation. I’d probably get ‘Silence is golden’ from your son Jim. Barstow thinks like most of the parents do, Jack. You’re the one that’s different. You’re older than most of them.”
“So they all think like Barstow?”
“It’s not thinking, really, it’s a belief system. My point is that half of what you’re feeling has nothing to do with logic. It’s an immune reaction. Dawkins’ memes.”
Jack chewed on this for a while. “We’re the same age, Sue,” he said. “How’d you get so smart while I just got old?”
She shrugged. “I’ve worked with little people for a long time. They don’t have much of a, I don’t know what you’d call it, like a viral load—a memeal load—they don’t have much of a mimetic load yet. They pick up and discard these things very readily, trying to form combinations. That’s the real reason why ‘Kids say…’ ” she paused.
“ ‘…The darnedest things.’ ”
They both chuckled. “It keeps me fresh,” she went on. “They ask ‘why’ all the time. Sometimes it’s straight factual things, like ‘why is grass green.’ Sometimes I can hear the little wheels going when one of them asks ‘why is the grass green and not blue,’ I have a lot of fun coming up with answers for that kind of thing. But when I get a question like, “Why does the policeman have a gun?” it makes me really stop and think: do I really have an answer or just an infection to give that kid. Don’t you see this with Billy at all?”
Jack looked thoughtful. “I may have been too busy with my own infections to notice. Wiping my mental nose, I guess,” he said.
“Well,” said Sue with a smile, “I have to go. It’s been fun, as always, Jack. But you’re still a cheap date.”
On his way home, Jack passed the ball field where Billy’s pickup game was in progress. Both teams were shy a few players: no shortstop, some kid’s big doofus of a golden retriever eagerly playing outfield for both teams. The infield stood ready and Billy was with a little huddle off the third base line, so his team must just be up. Now there’s a nice thing about baseball, Jack thought. You don’t need uniforms, not for play and not even for spectators. Everybody can just see who’s on what team.
Billy waved when he saw his father. Jack waved back. It was Billy’s up. He settled over the plate and nodded to the pitcher. There’s the ball—it chirps, it’s in the zone—swing—and a miss. “Strike,” called the catcher. “Yeah,” agreed Billy and settled in again. There’s still another nice thing about the game, thought Jack. The rules are clear and simple; you don’t really need an umpire, either, if everybody plays fair. “Here’s the pitch,” sang Jack to himself, all those old TV and radio voices from his childhood giving him the rhythm. Billy twitched but held his ground, “Low and outside...” the ball honked as it passed the plate “...ball one.” It smacked into the catcher’s glove.