School's Out Forever
"Mr. President," came Secretary Candace's voice over the speaker, "there's someone here to see you, but she doesn't have an appointment. Shall I tell her to take a long walk off a short pier and hug an octopus?"
Behind the door, in his office, Mr. President considered this for a moment. "Hmm, well, that depends," he said. "Is she hot?"
"Sir! If you don't cut it out with the sexism, I will see you in court!" She counted on his forgetting that he was the nation's only judge.
Mr. President furrowed his brow and scratched his head. "What are you talking about?" he said, genuinely perplexed. "I was just going to say that if she was hot, then walking off a pier could cool her off. Or she could just come in here where it's air-conditioned."
Secretary Candace realized he wasn't being facetious. With a sigh, she waved the lady in. Let him deal with whatever she brought with her.
The lady wasn't very hot, but she was rather attractive. She wore a professional grey business skirt and jacket with high heels, and her lustrous brown hair was naturally curled. Her eyes were likewise brown and she had a crescent-moon face. She carried an attaché case. "Good afternoon, Mr. President," she said.
"Hiya," he said, feeling his heart rate increase for some reason. "What can I do for a, um, a charming young woman such as yourself?"
"You can listen to my proposal," she said. "The name is Throap. Miss Anne Throap." They shook hands. Mr. President's was warm and clammy. "I was a teacher back in the United States," she continued, "and I'd like to be one here."
"Heck, be my guest. No one's stopping you," said Mr. President.
"It isn't that simple. You see, your welfare program has done wonders for the economy and getting everyone else a job, but in this case we need to actually create a whole education system before I can do anything. Besides, that's the only way anyone this economy will last. Our rising generation must learn the skills to function and perform in society."
"You hereby have my permission to start a school," said Mr. President. "Let us know if you need any help."
"Well, I can't do it all on my own. I'll need funding."
"Six billion dollars, yours. Anything else?"
"Not at the moment - "
"Hold on a minute," said Vice Prime Minister William, coming into the conversation. "Forgive me, Mr. President, but I believe that if we're to make this investment in her project, we must set forth certain criteria to ensure that we get good results. I mean, it's not like it matters how much money we spend, but I'd rather get this right the first time so we don't warp the snot-nosed brats beyond control."
"Sounds fair," said Mr. President. "That's why I keep you around, for suggestions like this. What do you propose?"
"Secretary Candace!" Vice Prime Minister William bellowed. She hurried in, taking care to look cheerful for the benefit of their guest. "Take notes," he said. She left to get a sheet of paper and a pencil, looking cheerful on the outside all the while. "Okay," he began, addressing Miss Throap, "to begin with, you're our only teacher so far. We need to make sure you keep your job, so I hereby grant you tenure. If that's okay with you, Mr. President."
"By all means. We need to hold on to our good teachers."
"This isn't about me," said Miss Throap, "it's about the children. It's their futures I'm worried about. So we can discuss salary, benefits and all that later."
"Very well, then," said Vice Prime Minister William. "Now, the children... what age groups did you have in mind, exactly?"
"Just put them all in the same class for a while, until we get more teachers," she said. "They're all starting from a clean slate and it won't make too much of a difference at first."
"Right," said Mr. President. "So, I guess you'll be reporting directly to us until we can get a principal - no, scratch that. We don't need a principal or a Board of Education; just more worthless layers of bureaucracy. Here are your orders then, Miss Throap: make sure all the kids pass."
"I can do that," said Miss Throap.
"Can you, Miss Throap?" said Vice Prime Minister William. "I realize you've been a teacher before, but I want to make sure you understand what's expected of you here. That means all the kids, understand? If anyone is left behind, it reflects poorly on our school district and will make it difficult for me to secure funding."
"I know, sir," said Miss Throap. "I've done it all before. I'll make everything as easy as I can, give them unlimited tries on tests, and curve the grades. I'm thinking a minimum passing grade of fifty percent should do it."
"Too risky," said Mr. President. "I've heard stories about some kids' report cards these days. Look, why even keep grades? It's just more work for you. Just make sure they're ready to go out in the world and do stuff. You can't quantify that with numbers or letters."
"An interesting idea," said Miss Throap. "I like it. You should have been the superintendent at my old school."
"Thanks," he said dryly. "I've always been very interested in education." He pondered a moment, then had an idea. "One last thing," he said. "I suppose once in a while, to gauge their progress, you may have to give them assignments of some sort. And even though they won't count for grades, you may have to mark what the kids got wrong, just so they know. Just so they don't get to working in a factory and hit reverse on the assembly line and ruin everything So if this comes up, there is one thing I absolutely implore you."
He gripped his desk tightly and leaned across it, staring into Miss Throap's gorgeous eyes with all the urgency he could muster.
"Don't," he said, "I beg of you, don't mark with red ink."
Miss Throap blinked. Then she laughed. "What do you think, I started teaching yesterday? Everyone knows red ink is crippling to a child's self-esteem. I've always used purple. It looks non-threatening and it's the color of Barney."
"Good," said Vice Prime Minister William. "Did you get all that, Secretary Candace?" She nodded. "Then," he continued to Miss Throap, "that just about settles it for now. You can start teaching tomorrow, unless Mr. President has something to add."
"No," said Mr. President, "that should be fine. But now we can get back to your needs, Miss Throap. Is there anything at all that we can do for you?"
"Yeah," she said, shivering and pulling her arms to her chest. "Could you please turn down the air conditioning?"
***
Miss Anne Throap stood in the doorway of her shiny new classroom that had just been constructed last night. She greeted each student as they entered. "Good morning," she sang, "good morning, to you, and you, and you. Hold on, what's this?"
She had stopped a young girl who was wearing a crucifix necklace. The girl looked down. "It - it was a present from Pastor John, before he went all loopy. It represents my commitment to -"
"Yeah, yeah," said Miss Throap. "I'm sorry, but public displays of delu- er, religion aren't permitted in this country. It might make some of the other students uncomfortable, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Then take it off, please."
"But it represents my -"
"Fine, then get out!" said Miss Throap, suddenly no longer smiling. "Out! Out, I say!"
Shaken, the girl ran off. The next girl to enter was visibly shaken even through the burqa that covered her from head to toe. "Er," she said, "is my outfit going to be a problem?"
"Oh no, not at all," said Miss Throap, smiling again. "We respect your cultural diversity. We aren't bigots, after all."
The girl entered, and the rest of the students filed in behind her. They took their seats and chattered excitedly until the bell rang. Most of them hadn't seen the dismissal of the girl with the crucifix.
"Good morning, class. My name is Miss Throap," said Miss Throap, taking her position at the front of the room. She wrote it on the shiny new SmartBoard that had just been delivered and unpacked that morning. "It's like 'soap'," she explained, "except with some different letters at the beginning. Do you use soap, boys and girls?"
"Yes," chorused the group of children ranging from ages six to twelve.
"Excellent," she said. "Cleanliness is next to g- er, cleanliness is a good thing. It keeps the bad ol' germs from hurting you. Right, now I suppose before we go any further I ought to take attendance. Alvin?"
"Here."
"Beth?"
"Present."
"Citizen Bob?"
"Accounted for."
Surprised by the deep voice, she looked up to see a grown man sitting at a desk in the middle and blocking the view of the children behind him. He smiled at her with all the innocence of a child. She smiled back, unsure of herself. "Citizen Bob," she said, "you seem a bit - er, advanced in years to be taking this class."
"Oh yeah," he said, "funny story about that. Ever see the movie 'Billy Madison' with Adam Sandler?"
"About a grown man who has to go through grade school again within a few weeks so he can inherit his father's business?"
"Yeah, that one. I watched it a couple days ago and it was so weird. Just random. Anyway, I just want a college degree but there's a shortage of colleges so far, so I'm here for the next best thing until further notice."
"I see," she said. "Well, try to keep up." She finished taking attendance and then clapped her hands. "Okay, boys and girls, we have a big year ahead of us. It's going to be a voyage of self-discovery and introspection, and yet also learning how to get along with others. By the end of it you should all be deeper, enriched people."
"Yeah!" said a little boy. "We're gonna be rich!"
Miss Throap laughed and shook her head. "No, no. Enriched. Being rich is bad."
"Oh yeah." He turned a bit red as his classmates snickered at him.
"Now," she said, "we have a full agenda for the day. After some fun get-to-know-you activities we'll learn about how U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt saved the economy and invented penicillin. Then we'll read a picture book together and learn all about sex and birth control. After a break for lunch and recess, we'll sit in a circle and talk about our feelings for the rest of the day. Any questions before we begin? Yes, Elroy?"
"Can I go to the bathroom?"
"I don't know, can you?"
"May I?"
"Why didn't you go before class started?"
"I didn't have to go then."
"Oh, whatever. Yes, hurry off the little boys' room and then hurry back."
"Er - yeah. About that," said Elroy, "I, um, self-identify as a girl."
"Oh! My apologies. You may use the little girls' room, then. Thank you for telling me."
"Miss Throap," said Rachel as Elroy left the room, "having boys in our bathroom will make me uncomfortable."
Miss Throap gaped at her, and blood rushed to her face. "Didn't your hear her?" she snapped. "She's not a boy." She pointed to the door. "I won't stand for bigotry in my classroom. Out! Out! Out!"
Visibly shaken, Rachel did as she was told. The rest of the class was only slightly less shaken.
Miss Throap regained her composure, Elroy returned from the bathroom, and the class got down to business. The get-to-know-you activities proceeded smoothly, as did the first lesson, until a student named Gordon raised his hand and said, "Miss Throap, I read somewhere that President Roosevelt tried to bully and silence everyone who disagreed with him. Is that true?"
She laughed. "Of course not. It wouldn't even have been possible, because nobody disagreed with him."
"Oh, okay. I have another question. Why were Calvin Coolidge's policies so successful if he wasn't -"
"They weren't. Your crazy uncle who watches Fox News must have made that up."
"Okay, but how could Herbert Hoover have been a 'laissez-faire' president if he -"
"You're disrupting the lesson," she snapped, blood rising to her face again. "Get out." She didn't have to ask twice this time.
The lesson continued without a problem, and Sex Ed was similarly uneventful. Afterward the students headed off to lunch with enlarged vocabularies and packages of free condoms. The cafeteria kitchen wasn't complete yet, so all of them had had to bring their own lunches, which they now opened. Citizen Bob could hardly wait to dig into his tofu and bean sprouts.
"Lunch inspection!" called Miss Throap, entering the cafeteria after them. "Let's make sure you've all got healthy, happy lunches!" She stopped at the head of the table and leaned over to sniff at the first student's lunch. "Mm-hmm," she said approvingly, and moved on to the next. "Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-cough!" She straightened up. "What have we here?"
Farley blushed as all eyes turned on him. "Just, um, just some pizza, and some Fritos, and a juice box."
"I can see that," she snapped. "It was a rhetorical question. But in fairness, I haven't taught you about those yet."
"It's healthy pizza," he said, starting to panic. "It's got peppers and olives and -"
"And enough calories to kill a horse, I imagine! Out!" she said. "Out! Out!" He scurried out, taking his lunch with him. She finished her rounds of the table and, having satisfied herself that everyone else's lunches were sufficiently healthy, stepped outside for a smoke break.
After lunch the children went outside to play. Nobody wanted Citizen Bob on their soccer team, so he wandered off to play hopscotch. Just then he was jostled as a young boy ran past, followed by another who was pointing his index finger and shouting "Bang! Bang!"
The next thing he heard was a shrill coach's whistle, and then he was jostled again as Miss Throap chased after them, yelling. "Boys! Boys! Stop this instant!"
They screeched to a halt and turned to face her. "Yes, Miss Throap?" they chorused.
"Both of you," she said, "that is unacceptable behavior. Do your parents really allow you to emulate gun violence?"
"We were just -"
"Now listen," she said. "I won't have it said ten years from now that any of my students grew up to be killers. Get out, both of you, and see a psychologist while you're at it."
"Can we just stay on the playground for the rest of the day?" asked one boy.
She sighed. "I suppose so. But no more guns! The next time I see you with - hey!" Just like that, her attention was diverted to another pair of students, this one mixed-gender. "Hold it right there! I saw you touch her inappropriately!"
"What?" asked the boy, gasping for breath. "I touched her on the upper back. We're playing tag."
"Uh-huh. That's what they all say. First it's the upper back, next it's a bit lower, and so on."
The girl stared at her incredulously. "You just taught us how to have sex, and you're concerned about himtouching me?"
"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Miss Throap. "Both of you, go home - separately!"
As Citizen Bob watched the blood fade from her face again, his heart skipped a beat and he realized he had a crush on her. He would have to be very careful to avoid inappropriate student-teacher contact.
***
"...and in conclusion," said Citizen Bob, "that's why Miss Throap is awesome, and her school is awesome, and this great nation of the Free Democratic Republic is awesome, and heterosexual white males suck. Thank you." He sat down amid thunderous applause.
"Aw, I think you're pretty awesome yourself anyway, Citizen Bob," said the Prime Minister, Mr. President, taking his place at the podium. "My heartiest congratulations on going down in history as the FDR's first valedictorian. And I'm not just saying that because you're the only one left in the class."
Next: It's No Fun Being an Undocumented Worker
Behind the door, in his office, Mr. President considered this for a moment. "Hmm, well, that depends," he said. "Is she hot?"
"Sir! If you don't cut it out with the sexism, I will see you in court!" She counted on his forgetting that he was the nation's only judge.
Mr. President furrowed his brow and scratched his head. "What are you talking about?" he said, genuinely perplexed. "I was just going to say that if she was hot, then walking off a pier could cool her off. Or she could just come in here where it's air-conditioned."
Secretary Candace realized he wasn't being facetious. With a sigh, she waved the lady in. Let him deal with whatever she brought with her.
The lady wasn't very hot, but she was rather attractive. She wore a professional grey business skirt and jacket with high heels, and her lustrous brown hair was naturally curled. Her eyes were likewise brown and she had a crescent-moon face. She carried an attaché case. "Good afternoon, Mr. President," she said.
"Hiya," he said, feeling his heart rate increase for some reason. "What can I do for a, um, a charming young woman such as yourself?"
"You can listen to my proposal," she said. "The name is Throap. Miss Anne Throap." They shook hands. Mr. President's was warm and clammy. "I was a teacher back in the United States," she continued, "and I'd like to be one here."
"Heck, be my guest. No one's stopping you," said Mr. President.
"It isn't that simple. You see, your welfare program has done wonders for the economy and getting everyone else a job, but in this case we need to actually create a whole education system before I can do anything. Besides, that's the only way anyone this economy will last. Our rising generation must learn the skills to function and perform in society."
"You hereby have my permission to start a school," said Mr. President. "Let us know if you need any help."
"Well, I can't do it all on my own. I'll need funding."
"Six billion dollars, yours. Anything else?"
"Not at the moment - "
"Hold on a minute," said Vice Prime Minister William, coming into the conversation. "Forgive me, Mr. President, but I believe that if we're to make this investment in her project, we must set forth certain criteria to ensure that we get good results. I mean, it's not like it matters how much money we spend, but I'd rather get this right the first time so we don't warp the snot-nosed brats beyond control."
"Sounds fair," said Mr. President. "That's why I keep you around, for suggestions like this. What do you propose?"
"Secretary Candace!" Vice Prime Minister William bellowed. She hurried in, taking care to look cheerful for the benefit of their guest. "Take notes," he said. She left to get a sheet of paper and a pencil, looking cheerful on the outside all the while. "Okay," he began, addressing Miss Throap, "to begin with, you're our only teacher so far. We need to make sure you keep your job, so I hereby grant you tenure. If that's okay with you, Mr. President."
"By all means. We need to hold on to our good teachers."
"This isn't about me," said Miss Throap, "it's about the children. It's their futures I'm worried about. So we can discuss salary, benefits and all that later."
"Very well, then," said Vice Prime Minister William. "Now, the children... what age groups did you have in mind, exactly?"
"Just put them all in the same class for a while, until we get more teachers," she said. "They're all starting from a clean slate and it won't make too much of a difference at first."
"Right," said Mr. President. "So, I guess you'll be reporting directly to us until we can get a principal - no, scratch that. We don't need a principal or a Board of Education; just more worthless layers of bureaucracy. Here are your orders then, Miss Throap: make sure all the kids pass."
"I can do that," said Miss Throap.
"Can you, Miss Throap?" said Vice Prime Minister William. "I realize you've been a teacher before, but I want to make sure you understand what's expected of you here. That means all the kids, understand? If anyone is left behind, it reflects poorly on our school district and will make it difficult for me to secure funding."
"I know, sir," said Miss Throap. "I've done it all before. I'll make everything as easy as I can, give them unlimited tries on tests, and curve the grades. I'm thinking a minimum passing grade of fifty percent should do it."
"Too risky," said Mr. President. "I've heard stories about some kids' report cards these days. Look, why even keep grades? It's just more work for you. Just make sure they're ready to go out in the world and do stuff. You can't quantify that with numbers or letters."
"An interesting idea," said Miss Throap. "I like it. You should have been the superintendent at my old school."
"Thanks," he said dryly. "I've always been very interested in education." He pondered a moment, then had an idea. "One last thing," he said. "I suppose once in a while, to gauge their progress, you may have to give them assignments of some sort. And even though they won't count for grades, you may have to mark what the kids got wrong, just so they know. Just so they don't get to working in a factory and hit reverse on the assembly line and ruin everything So if this comes up, there is one thing I absolutely implore you."
He gripped his desk tightly and leaned across it, staring into Miss Throap's gorgeous eyes with all the urgency he could muster.
"Don't," he said, "I beg of you, don't mark with red ink."
Miss Throap blinked. Then she laughed. "What do you think, I started teaching yesterday? Everyone knows red ink is crippling to a child's self-esteem. I've always used purple. It looks non-threatening and it's the color of Barney."
"Good," said Vice Prime Minister William. "Did you get all that, Secretary Candace?" She nodded. "Then," he continued to Miss Throap, "that just about settles it for now. You can start teaching tomorrow, unless Mr. President has something to add."
"No," said Mr. President, "that should be fine. But now we can get back to your needs, Miss Throap. Is there anything at all that we can do for you?"
"Yeah," she said, shivering and pulling her arms to her chest. "Could you please turn down the air conditioning?"
***
Miss Anne Throap stood in the doorway of her shiny new classroom that had just been constructed last night. She greeted each student as they entered. "Good morning," she sang, "good morning, to you, and you, and you. Hold on, what's this?"
She had stopped a young girl who was wearing a crucifix necklace. The girl looked down. "It - it was a present from Pastor John, before he went all loopy. It represents my commitment to -"
"Yeah, yeah," said Miss Throap. "I'm sorry, but public displays of delu- er, religion aren't permitted in this country. It might make some of the other students uncomfortable, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Then take it off, please."
"But it represents my -"
"Fine, then get out!" said Miss Throap, suddenly no longer smiling. "Out! Out, I say!"
Shaken, the girl ran off. The next girl to enter was visibly shaken even through the burqa that covered her from head to toe. "Er," she said, "is my outfit going to be a problem?"
"Oh no, not at all," said Miss Throap, smiling again. "We respect your cultural diversity. We aren't bigots, after all."
The girl entered, and the rest of the students filed in behind her. They took their seats and chattered excitedly until the bell rang. Most of them hadn't seen the dismissal of the girl with the crucifix.
"Good morning, class. My name is Miss Throap," said Miss Throap, taking her position at the front of the room. She wrote it on the shiny new SmartBoard that had just been delivered and unpacked that morning. "It's like 'soap'," she explained, "except with some different letters at the beginning. Do you use soap, boys and girls?"
"Yes," chorused the group of children ranging from ages six to twelve.
"Excellent," she said. "Cleanliness is next to g- er, cleanliness is a good thing. It keeps the bad ol' germs from hurting you. Right, now I suppose before we go any further I ought to take attendance. Alvin?"
"Here."
"Beth?"
"Present."
"Citizen Bob?"
"Accounted for."
Surprised by the deep voice, she looked up to see a grown man sitting at a desk in the middle and blocking the view of the children behind him. He smiled at her with all the innocence of a child. She smiled back, unsure of herself. "Citizen Bob," she said, "you seem a bit - er, advanced in years to be taking this class."
"Oh yeah," he said, "funny story about that. Ever see the movie 'Billy Madison' with Adam Sandler?"
"About a grown man who has to go through grade school again within a few weeks so he can inherit his father's business?"
"Yeah, that one. I watched it a couple days ago and it was so weird. Just random. Anyway, I just want a college degree but there's a shortage of colleges so far, so I'm here for the next best thing until further notice."
"I see," she said. "Well, try to keep up." She finished taking attendance and then clapped her hands. "Okay, boys and girls, we have a big year ahead of us. It's going to be a voyage of self-discovery and introspection, and yet also learning how to get along with others. By the end of it you should all be deeper, enriched people."
"Yeah!" said a little boy. "We're gonna be rich!"
Miss Throap laughed and shook her head. "No, no. Enriched. Being rich is bad."
"Oh yeah." He turned a bit red as his classmates snickered at him.
"Now," she said, "we have a full agenda for the day. After some fun get-to-know-you activities we'll learn about how U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt saved the economy and invented penicillin. Then we'll read a picture book together and learn all about sex and birth control. After a break for lunch and recess, we'll sit in a circle and talk about our feelings for the rest of the day. Any questions before we begin? Yes, Elroy?"
"Can I go to the bathroom?"
"I don't know, can you?"
"May I?"
"Why didn't you go before class started?"
"I didn't have to go then."
"Oh, whatever. Yes, hurry off the little boys' room and then hurry back."
"Er - yeah. About that," said Elroy, "I, um, self-identify as a girl."
"Oh! My apologies. You may use the little girls' room, then. Thank you for telling me."
"Miss Throap," said Rachel as Elroy left the room, "having boys in our bathroom will make me uncomfortable."
Miss Throap gaped at her, and blood rushed to her face. "Didn't your hear her?" she snapped. "She's not a boy." She pointed to the door. "I won't stand for bigotry in my classroom. Out! Out! Out!"
Visibly shaken, Rachel did as she was told. The rest of the class was only slightly less shaken.
Miss Throap regained her composure, Elroy returned from the bathroom, and the class got down to business. The get-to-know-you activities proceeded smoothly, as did the first lesson, until a student named Gordon raised his hand and said, "Miss Throap, I read somewhere that President Roosevelt tried to bully and silence everyone who disagreed with him. Is that true?"
She laughed. "Of course not. It wouldn't even have been possible, because nobody disagreed with him."
"Oh, okay. I have another question. Why were Calvin Coolidge's policies so successful if he wasn't -"
"They weren't. Your crazy uncle who watches Fox News must have made that up."
"Okay, but how could Herbert Hoover have been a 'laissez-faire' president if he -"
"You're disrupting the lesson," she snapped, blood rising to her face again. "Get out." She didn't have to ask twice this time.
The lesson continued without a problem, and Sex Ed was similarly uneventful. Afterward the students headed off to lunch with enlarged vocabularies and packages of free condoms. The cafeteria kitchen wasn't complete yet, so all of them had had to bring their own lunches, which they now opened. Citizen Bob could hardly wait to dig into his tofu and bean sprouts.
"Lunch inspection!" called Miss Throap, entering the cafeteria after them. "Let's make sure you've all got healthy, happy lunches!" She stopped at the head of the table and leaned over to sniff at the first student's lunch. "Mm-hmm," she said approvingly, and moved on to the next. "Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-cough!" She straightened up. "What have we here?"
Farley blushed as all eyes turned on him. "Just, um, just some pizza, and some Fritos, and a juice box."
"I can see that," she snapped. "It was a rhetorical question. But in fairness, I haven't taught you about those yet."
"It's healthy pizza," he said, starting to panic. "It's got peppers and olives and -"
"And enough calories to kill a horse, I imagine! Out!" she said. "Out! Out!" He scurried out, taking his lunch with him. She finished her rounds of the table and, having satisfied herself that everyone else's lunches were sufficiently healthy, stepped outside for a smoke break.
After lunch the children went outside to play. Nobody wanted Citizen Bob on their soccer team, so he wandered off to play hopscotch. Just then he was jostled as a young boy ran past, followed by another who was pointing his index finger and shouting "Bang! Bang!"
The next thing he heard was a shrill coach's whistle, and then he was jostled again as Miss Throap chased after them, yelling. "Boys! Boys! Stop this instant!"
They screeched to a halt and turned to face her. "Yes, Miss Throap?" they chorused.
"Both of you," she said, "that is unacceptable behavior. Do your parents really allow you to emulate gun violence?"
"We were just -"
"Now listen," she said. "I won't have it said ten years from now that any of my students grew up to be killers. Get out, both of you, and see a psychologist while you're at it."
"Can we just stay on the playground for the rest of the day?" asked one boy.
She sighed. "I suppose so. But no more guns! The next time I see you with - hey!" Just like that, her attention was diverted to another pair of students, this one mixed-gender. "Hold it right there! I saw you touch her inappropriately!"
"What?" asked the boy, gasping for breath. "I touched her on the upper back. We're playing tag."
"Uh-huh. That's what they all say. First it's the upper back, next it's a bit lower, and so on."
The girl stared at her incredulously. "You just taught us how to have sex, and you're concerned about himtouching me?"
"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Miss Throap. "Both of you, go home - separately!"
As Citizen Bob watched the blood fade from her face again, his heart skipped a beat and he realized he had a crush on her. He would have to be very careful to avoid inappropriate student-teacher contact.
***
"...and in conclusion," said Citizen Bob, "that's why Miss Throap is awesome, and her school is awesome, and this great nation of the Free Democratic Republic is awesome, and heterosexual white males suck. Thank you." He sat down amid thunderous applause.
"Aw, I think you're pretty awesome yourself anyway, Citizen Bob," said the Prime Minister, Mr. President, taking his place at the podium. "My heartiest congratulations on going down in history as the FDR's first valedictorian. And I'm not just saying that because you're the only one left in the class."
Next: It's No Fun Being an Undocumented Worker
