Some New Disaster

Chapter 1
Study Hard

Chapter Description: Nine failing high school home ec students are about to be put through the wringer. Introductory, but necessary.

There were nine F-students in a class of thirty.

Miss Berdette was known throughout Willowbrook High as the consummate ballbuster. She was in her mid-20s, just out of grad school, and a firm believer in the old teachers’ adage “Don’t smile until Christmas” -- a nice way of saying “Show ‘em who’s boss, and quick.”

And she did. Home economics is not the type of course that comes naturally to many people... but, while her students had little trouble with food preparation and financial management, several teenagers tripped up on the subjects of safe sex and childcare. Those who practiced safe sex assumed they had no need for childcare; those who aced childcare never bothered with safe sex. Only 21 of Berdette’s 30 pupils managed to strike the balance that garnered them a passing grade.

The remaining nine stood against the wall next to the door as if comprising a suspect lineup. The final exam had already been taken--

--“and it was some new disaster for you, ladies and gentlemen,” Miss Berdette said. “Those of you whom I didn’t catch cheating gave some truly embarrassing answers. The answer to ‘What do you do when your baby starts crying?’ is not ‘Hand it to your wife’ and the answer to ‘How do you change a diaper?’ is not ‘Draw designs on it with a marker.’ You’re all seniors. Graduation is in a week. If I submit Fs to the principal on your behalf, you won’t be there. You wouldn’t want that for yourselves, would you?”

The students shook their heads. The other pupils -- those who had passed the course -- remained seated at their desks... a flourish those with failing grades wished had been omitted from their humiliating episode.

“And I certainly don’t want to have to show the Illinois Department of Education that nearly one-third of you don’t know a diaper from a dishrag. I’d be emptying Dumpsters for the rest of my life. It’s good, honest work, but you wouldn’t want that for me, would you?”

In truth, all nine of the F-students wanted that for Miss Berdette. But, in the interest of self-preservation, they shook their heads again.

“Then I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” smiled the teacher. “I’m willing to grant the nine of you a final-final-exam... right here, right now. You pass, and that F becomes an A. Is that amenable to everyone?”

Nine fervent nods.

“Miss Berdette?” asked Robert, one of the nine. “Who’s that guy over there?”

A man in dark clothes, who appeared about 30 years of age, sat in the back of the room, at a desk like any other student, apparently scrawling notes onto lined paper. He didn’t look up.

“He’s from the DoE,” Miss Berdette replied, “and he’s here to make sure I get it right this time. And you will not ask any more questions unless you feel they will improve your performance. There’s a lot of improving that needs to be done. Is that understood?”

The nine kids nodded.

“Then let’s get this done,” said the teacher, walking away from the lineup. “We’ve got an hour.”