“I’m afraid I...”
“Isn’t it niggers, Dadier? And spies? And krauts, Dadier? Isn’t it?”
“No,” Rick said angrily, “it isn’t. What are you insinuating?”
“I never insinuate, Dadier. I say or I don’t say, but I never hint. Did you or did you not use these derogatory terms in your classroom, did you or did you not use these expressions before your students, did you or did you not malign racial, religious and national groups, Dadier, did you or did you not?”
“I certainly did not!” Rick said, rising. “Where the devil did you...”
“Sit down, Dadier,” Small said menacingly.
“Where’d you get all this filth?” Rick asked. “Who...”
“DID YOU USE THE EXPRESSION ‘NIGGER’ IN YOUR CLASSROOM?” Small shouted.
“Yes, I did. But only to explain...”
“DID YOU USE THE EXPRESSION ‘SPIC’?”
“Yes, in the same lesson. To show the kids...”
“AND KIKE AND MOCKIE, and goddamnit, Dadier, where the hell do you come off spouting such crap at my students, in my school? Are you a goddamned Fascist? A COMMUNIST? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU, DADIER?”
“What the hell are you?” Rick shouted. “A Grand Inquisitor?”
“What?” Small sputtered.
“I used those expressions to teach a lesson on democracy. I used...”
“Do you realize...”
“I used them as examples of what should not be said. I used them as negative examples, goddamnit!”
“You did not!” Small roared.
“Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Small,” Rick asked, his voice cold white.
“I am telling you exactly what was reported to me by one of your own students, one of the boys forced to listen to your maligning talk, and I am basing my conclusions upon what that student told me and upon reports from Mr. Stanley as to the prejudiced teaching practices employed by you in your...”
“That’s enough!” Rick shouted. “That’s just about enough, Mr. Small. I’ve heard enough!”
“What?” Small said.
“I don’t care if you’re the mayor. I don’t care. I don’t care if you fire me right this minute, do you understand? I don’t want to hear anymore of that, not another word, not if it costs me my job. I don’t have to listen to it, do you hear me? So just stop it, that’s all. Just stop it, Mr. Small.”
He was trembling now, and his face was white, and he stood before Small’s desk clenching and unclenching his fists, unable to control the anger within him.
“I told you I used those expressions as negative examples. I never once, not in my classroom, and not anywhere, ever referred to a minority group...”
“This boy said you did,” Small answered, his voice somewhat on the defensive now.
“Which boy?” Rick snapped.
“A boy in one of your classes.”
“Who? What’s his name?”
“I prefer not to divulge that,” Small said, quietly pompous.
“He was lying,” Rick said tightly. “He was lying, and you took his word over mine.”
“Mr. Stanley substantiated...”
“I called on my best students whenever Mr. Stanley was observing. I can’t help it if he drew the wrong conclusions. If he’d visited my second-period class, I’d have called almost exclusively on Simpson, who happens to be the brightest kid in the class, and who also happens to be a Negro.”
“Gregory Miller is in your fifth-term class,” Small said. “He has an I.Q. of 113. I consider that bright, Dadier. Yet Mr. Stanley visited that class four times, and you called upon Miller only once during those four visits. Why, Dadier?”
“Because Miller is a troublemaker, and I didn’t want to risk trouble while being observed by the Department Chairman. Is that difficult to understand?”
“I see,” Small said.
“I didn’t call on Harris in my eighth-period class either, and Harris is pure white Protestant. But Harris is a goddamned troublemaker, too, and I wasn’t going to put my worst foot forward while the Department Chairman was taking notes.”
“I see,” Small said quietly.
“Do you?”
“Yes, I see. You can understand, Dadier...”
“Was Miller the one who put this idea into your head? Did he make the complaint?”
“I prefer not to divulge the boy’s name, Dadier.”
“Why not? Don’t you think I have a right to know?”
“No, I do not think so. You can understand, Dadier, that a complaint of this type demanded immediate action. I won’t stand for nonsense of that sort in my school. I don’t care if someone’s skin is purple, Dadier, he gets taught the same as the white boy does.”
“Is it policy to accuse someone before he...”
“Perhaps I was a bit hasty, Dadier, but you can’t blame me for misinterpreting the facts, especially in the light of the complaint. A thing like that makes my blood boil, Dadier.” He paused and fingered the scar on his face. “If I was wrong, I apologize.” He stared at Rick fixedly.
“You were wrong, sir,” Rick said, not able to resist the twisting of the knife, “but I shouldn’t have lost my temper, either.”
“In that case,” Small said, smiling benevolently, “shall we let bygones be bygones?”
He extended his beefy palm across the desk, and Rick took it, thinking back to that time in the mess hall when Bowden had extended his hand, and thinking about how he’d felt taking Bowden’s hand then, and realizing he did not feel at all like that now.
“There,” Small said, “that’s better. I don’t like tiffs in my school family, Mr. Dadier.”
Rick heard the added Mister, and knew that he had regained his position in the principal’s esteem, or at least he felt he had.
“No, sir, Mr. Dadier, no tiffs in the school family,” Small repeated.
“Yes, sir,” Rick said.
“We’re here to do a job, and the only way we can do it is by presenting a solid front to these kids. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Rick said, very weary now that it was all over. “I suppose so, sir.”
“Well,” Small said, reaching for the pile of papers on his desk again, “don’t let me cut into your unassigned time, Mr. Dadier. A little relaxation is important to a teacher.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick said.
“And...” Small smiled in a fatherly manner and cocked his head to one side, “... let’s just forget about this little incident, eh? I’ve already forgotten it, believe me, and I have a memory like an elephant.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick said, backing to the door. He opened the door, and Small waved in farewell, and then Rick closed the door gently. Miss Brady, who’d apparently heard every word of the argument, stared at Rick in wonder when he picked up his briefcase. He stared back at her until she averted her eyes, and then he walked out into the corridor, his anger returning.
That’s a hell of a way to do things, he thought. Drag a man in on the carpet and accuse him of being a prejudiced sonofabitch without even having heard his side of the story. That’s a dandy democratic way of handling things, all right. And why hadn’t he realized Small was a meathead long before this? How could he have been so blind? Anne had been right after all. She’d pronounced Small a very stupid man, and he was just that, and he was also principal of North Manual Trades.
Oh the sonofabitch, Rick thought. The unmitigated gall of that dictatorial sonofabitch! I should have thrown him through his own window, the way Juan Garza had tried to do with Ginzer, who must have been another goddamned meathead. What do I have to do, fight the kids and the teachers? Am I getting a taste of school politics? Is this why Andy Jacobson kisses his principal’s ass at the elementary school where he teaches?