Julian

I. January, Ch. 10

     Marlo grabbed the edges of the sink and looked in the mirror. His deep breaths echoed in the empty restroom.

     His stomach was twisted up in knots. He gave his reflection a weak smile. The faculty may not be on my side, but I'll win over parents if it's the last thing I do.

     He wasn't known for taking an active role in PTA meetings. Parents tended to demand things Marlo couldn't control.

     He swore he'd never be that kind of parent with his children's teachers.

     Marlo exited the bathroom and walked down the hall to the meeting in Room 100, where the room was split into two camps. Teachers sat on the left and parents on the right. Mrs. Leonard, chair of the PTA, stood behind the podium.

     She smiled when he entered and handed him a copy of the agenda. "Welcome, Principal Cabrera. I included your item under New Business."

     Marlo grinned. Part of him thought she'd conveniently forget to add his item. "It looks great, Mrs. Leonard. Thank you."

     She called the meeting to order at six o'clock on the dot. Roll call. Approval of the minutes. Old business.

     With each step getting closer to his item, Marlo's hands got clammy. What if they too disapproved of me? I'd have zero allies.

     "Next item on our agenda is Suggestions for Improvement," said Mrs. Leonard. "Principal Cabrera is here to discuss this further. Is there a motion to open this item?"

     The sound of confusion was passed from parent to parent.

     Marlo swallowed. He was the reformed bully no one wanted to play with.

     "Motion," said Pete, one of the parents.

     "Second," said another.

     "This item is now open with fifteen minutes allocated for discussion. Principal Cabrera, the floor is yours."

     Marlo straightened his coat and stood beside the podium. "Thank you, Mrs. Leonard. Good evening, everyone. This semester, I am committed to being more involved with every constituency group on campus, including the PTA. I understand Julian's just one semester old, but I want to assure you that we're doing our best to make your sons and daughters successful. That being said, I'm here to take your comments, questions, and concerns."

     Parents looked at one another while the teachers crossed their arms. All that could be heard was the sound of the lights.

     "I have a suggestion," said Pete. His tone was condescending. "Pete Estes here. As a parent, I can't believe I'm saying this, but how about taking it easy on the excessive academics?"

     His comment was met with sounds of agreement from the other parents.

     Marlo concentrated on hiding the trembling in his hands. "How do you mean, Mr. Estes?"

     "I mean, my two boys come home from school like they're back from a funeral. I ask them what's wrong and they say 'Nothing, Pop. School's just a drag.' My boys never said that coming home from Andrade."

     Marlo wanted to laugh, but he kept his poker face on. "I see. What do you suspect is the problem?"

     "I was hoping you could answer that, Mr. Cabrera," said Pete.

     Marlo rubbed his hands together. "A transition from an all-boys school to a co-ed one can bring about some tension. It's a common problem among other high schools. I tell you, I think students are making the transition just fine."

     The sound of confusion spread to the teachers' side of the room.

     "As parents, how would we know that? Having them play sports against each other?"

     Four parents contributed an uneasy laugh.

     Mrs. Leonard leaned forward on the podium. "Even if that were a good idea, we wouldn't have the ways and means to make it happen at this time."

     "That brings me to my next point," said Pete. "Why don't we have extracurricular activities?"

     The first small wave of affirmation crashed.

     "That's something we'll look into next year," said Marlo.

     "Why not now?", asked Pete. "Something, anything to let us know our kids are playing nice."

     Marlo cleared his throat. The idea that parents could show gratitude was a fantasy.

     His vision became distorted. What were supposed to be caring, open-minded parents now melted into an angry mob. Marlo's eyes reminded him where the exits were. They appear dangerous, but they can't hurt you. "Fair enough. Are you suggesting we add sports? Because it would take us at least a year to add our boys and girls to a league."

     "How about something easier to put up and take down, just for the sake of our peace of mind?"

     Marlo thought for a moment. "Like a book club?"

     "We can't audit that."

     A silence came over the room.

     "Why don't we have a drama department?" asked one of the mothers.

     "The board is still discussing what to do with the land the theater is supposed to be built on."

     "Why not put on a talent show?"

     There were more sounds of confusion.

     Marlo felt better sharing the embarrassment.

     "How about a play?" said Pete.

     The silence continued for a moment, then transitioned to muffled sounds of interest.

     "How about a school dance?"

     The interest got louder.

     Marlo felt the anger and frustration contracting in his chest. He envied their ability to demand things without appearing spoiled. "Those all sound like great ideas. I'd have to check with our benefactors to see if they'd allow some of our funds to go to something as... recreational as a school play."

     "There's nothing recreational about the welfare of my children," said Peter.

     Other parents nodded in agreement.

     Marlo's forehead gathered droplets of sweat. "Very well, everyone. The welfare of these students is a priority to me as well. If this is the temperature check you wish to see, I will find the funds to make it happen."

     "What are we going to put on?" said the mother.

     Every parent joined her in the excitement of the three-minute-old idea.

     Marlo temples pulsed. He dreamed of the day his hardest work would be enough.