“This board continues to believe,” Sprawley went on, “in the importance of preserving Sanpitch’s autonomy in all matters of religious instruction and identity, especially given the minority status of Presbyterianism in this state. Good citizenship, however — now that’s a cat of a different breed.”
Superintendent Timothy Grimm cocked his head. “I don’t quite get your meaning, Vince.”
“I think he means rendering unto Caesar and so forth,” interposed the Reverend.
“Not exactly.” Sprawley casually leaned back, intertwining his fingers behind his neck. “This country being a democracy and not an empery. As you’ve no doubt noticed, these are difficult times. Communism is on the rise, sirs, both outside our borders and within. Senator McCarthy’s committee demonstrated that—”
The only woman at the table, Wanda Showalter, an outspoken member of the board for nearly twenty years and one easily annoyed by such things as being negligently designated a “sir,” interrupted: “Mr. Sprawley, I must caution you against invoking the name of the late senator to make any sort of point regarding national fealty.”
“My point, good lady, and I will gladly detach Senator McCarthy from it, is that institutions and organizations throughout the U.S., from the federal government all the way down to your local PTA, are asking their employees and constituent members to sign loyalty oaths these days — oaths that affirm one’s allegiance to this nation by taking a pledge to protect and defend it.”
“You mean a pledge not to overthrow it,” explicated Mrs. Showalter with an attendant groan. “The board has drafted the oath and we’ve voted on it. Please be honest with Superintendent Grimm and the others as to its meaning and intent.”
“May I see it?” asked Grimm. “You say the oath has already been approved?”
Sprawley nodded. “As a condition for renewal of your employee contracts for the spring. It will be incorporated into the language of Sanpitch’s biannual employee agreement. By signing the contract, your teachers, and all of your non-teaching staff, as well, will be agreeing to uphold the tenets of the oath.”
“Or affirmation,” added the Reverend Claxton. “Some of our teachers do not ‘swear.’”
Sprawley nodded again as he handed a copy of the oath/affirmation to Grimm. Claxton peered over Grimm’s left shoulder to read along with him. Director of Academics Roger Rainwater looked over his right.
Nonetheless, Grimm read the pertinent paragraph aloud. “By affixing my name to this contract, I promise that I will not advise, advocate, or teach the overthrow by force, violence, or other unlawful means of the Government of the United States of America. I further promise that while I am in the employ of Sanpitch Academy, Mount Pleasant, Utah, I will not become a member or become in any other way affiliated with any group, society, association, organization, or party that does not uphold and respect the laws of the United States and all of its constituent governmental units.”
Grimm looked up. Mrs. Showalter was poised to speak; she waited until his eyes met hers before saying, “What I continue to find incredibly troubling, and the reason that I didn’t vote for this oath in the first place regards the wording ‘which does not uphold and respect the laws of the United States’ and so forth. That’s all well and good for keeping any of our male employees who happen to be members of the LDS Church from taking a second or third wife, for old times’ sake…”
“Don’t be disrespectful of our Mormon brethren, Wanda,” said one of the other board members, a former Presbyterian minister named Dorrell.
“I apologize, Gordon, to all of our Mormon brethren who may have been within hail and taken offense. Now let me make my point. There are some of us here who don’t believe every law in this country to be sacrosanct and inviolable. Witness what is happening in the American South right now — massive protests against unjust laws that discriminate against our colored citizens — laws that no good Christian in his right mind should ever ‘uphold and respect.’ The wording in your oath is problematic and unrealistic, especially for those of us who happen to care about effecting positive change in this country.”
“So I take it, Wanda,” said Sprawley, narrowing his gaze on the long-opinionated former schoolteacher (ten years at Sanpitch), “that you would be fully supportive of the oath were we to strike that offending second sentence.”
“Only in your dreams, Vince. The whole thing is ludicrous. Asking teachers to promise that they won’t advocate the overthrow of the U.S. government — it’s an insult.”
“And yet,” said Grimm, with a lugubrious expression that well suited his name, “at least five of the nine of you went along with this. I’d be interested to know which of the longstanding members of the board were persuaded that this oath was in the best interest of the school.”
No one spoke. The vote had been taken by secret ballot, and so the secrecy would remain…for a while at least.
The board broke for lunch. Afterward came the presentation of a special program of student music performance, recitation, and declamation in the school’s auditorium. It was thought best by Superintendent Grimm and the school’s twelfth-grade English teacher, Miss Greene (and at the very last minute), to remove from the program Danny Worley’s five-minute oration, “Jesus, the Original Liberal.” There followed a tour of improvements to the campus, which was led by the deans of boys and girls and assisted by the dormitory supervisors. The tour was mapped so that by its end, the board would have had an opportunity to visit with nearly every one of the school’s adult employees, as well as make passing acquaintance with a good number of its most promising students.
Superintendent Grimm, who was supposed to go along with the tour, delegated the responsibility to his second-in-command, Director Rainwater. Grimm sat in his office with the Reverend Claxton, the two discussing whether or not to mount a protest against the loyalty oath. Such a protest might do little good and could only alienate the three new members of the board, each of whom had won his seat due to generous (and ongoing) financial contributions to the school. Future donations might very well be imperiled by administration contumacy.
“There are members of this faculty who will refuse to sign it,” said the pastor. “I can name four right off the bat. I assume you’ll have to terminate them. It’s going to get very messy, Tim.”
“I know,” said Grimm. “Here’s the rock and there’s the hard place. I got spoiled, Howard. All those years of minimal oversight. Occasionally we screwed up, but what got broken we fixed, and in some ways we even made it better than it was before. It’s not easy, as the board certainly knows, shepherding all these kids twenty-four hours a day, nine months a year — not only teaching them but feeding them, keeping them healthy and safe, tucking them sometimes literally into bed at night. The parents of these kids have always put a great amount of trust in us because they know how committed we are to this school. Most of them could not care less whether we’ve ever entertained thoughts of insurrection against this government. They just want their children to grow up to be decent adults, good citizens who love this country but aren’t afraid from time to time to point out ways in which she could improve herself. I wish I knew who those board members are — the ones Sprawley got to. I thought I knew the old timers better than that.”
“I can tell you who they are,” said Miss Taylor. Sharon Taylor was Grimm’s secretary. Because everyone at the school shouldered multiple responsibilities, she was also dorm mother to the sophomore girls. “They asked me to count the votes. I don’t mind spilling the beans. I hate the whole idea of a loyalty oath. I had an older brother who died in the Battle of Okinawa. I have another brother who was injured at Inchon. Swearing an oath presumes you aren’t patriotic to begin with. It galls me. I almost altered the votes on a couple of the ballots. But I knew that God was watching.”