An Hour of Truth 1

He almost made it out the front door when her voice called him back.
Halting in mid-stride there in the school hallway, he turned to watch as she approached him with a purposeful stride. As Assistant Principle, Ms. Angelina seemed always in motion. While she was quickly reducing the distance between them, he savored for a moment the paradox of her name and the nature of her job. It was never good news when Ms. Angelina wanted to talk to you.
So even though he was merely a contractor on his last day at the site, he faced her approach with some trepidation.
She began speaking when barely within earshot. “Mr. Jansen, I need your help with something. I realize you’ve finished your assignment here, but your contract pays you up to the close of business. That’s another two hours.”
He groaned silently within himself.
She held him firmly by the arm and began walking him back the way she had come. “I realize it’s been quite a few years, but I know you were once certified to teach. We don’t have anyone to cover this one period, and there simply must be adult supervision of these kids. The rules are quite simple, and posted on the wall.”
She pulled up before the door of the detention room, and turned the knob. Through the doorway was a side view of the teacher’s desk. A school resource officer in the uniform of the county sheriff’s department sat impatiently waiting relief at the battered old gray metal desk. The whole room was intentionally spartan. Aside from the ancient padded desk chair behind the teacher’s desk, nothing in the room was supposed to be comfortable.
The officer brushed past without a word, heading down the hallway toward the noise of the cheer assembly vibrating through the facility. Ms. Angelina shut the door behind him before he had taken two steps inside the room. With a rather quiet sigh, he eased himself down into the still warm chair and turned to face the student inmates.
They had dared to bend the rules by turning their heads just far enough to see him out of the corner of one eye or the other. One student already had a hand raised to get his attention. He delayed responding to announce his name to them. “My name is Mr. Jansen. How can I help you, Miss?”
The young lady turned her head from between the panels of her pod. “Mr. Jansen, they didn’t give us any work to do during the pep rally.”
He snorted. Having already broken all the rules binding on the school administration, he wasn’t about to bind the kids to their rules, either. There was nothing they could do except refuse to give him another contract next year. If this last one was any representative sample, it served only to remind him why he walked away from public education long ago.
“Everyone turn around. Turn your chairs around and face me.” They complied, each in their own way. Surveying quickly, he saw the day’s collection of behavioral misfits. Some had been there a few days already, of course, but none of them were likely to be serious troublemakers. Otherwise, they would already have been sent to the alternative facility. While some of these had certainly acted out of malice, at least as many were simply trying to find their own way as individuals, caught in a conformist system. Worse, he felt it sought to conform people to highly questionable standards. Of the dozen or so there, at least three were serious geeks, far too intelligent to tolerate easily the burden of boredom. Another was probably quite the thug, but was currently self restrained. The rest weren’t so easily estimated, but he decided it didn’t matter.
“Ask a question. Any question. If you have the nerve to ask, I will do my best to give an honest answer. Anything at all.”