You Must Remember This

Chapter 31: Cowabunga

Mr. Cathcart arrived exactly when he always did on the first day of school, fifteen minutes past when he was supposed to. The massive iron-barred gate that isolated the theater's distinct outdoor space from the common ground surrounding it was unlocked, which Mr. Cathcart took as a bad omen for what was to come. He swirled his coffee cup a little and was relieved to discover he had plenty left. When he entered the back room of the theater, he was greeted by a tiny and officious leadership student who demanded to know who "Mr. Cathcart" was—it sounded like a pseudonym—and why he dared intrude until he realized he was talking to someone who was supposed to be there; instead of apologizing, the student shouted something behind him, and Ms. Wolfe came out.

"Hey, this is my theater! What are you doing here so early?" Mr. Cathcart said jovially, trying to disguise his irritation with humor.

"The theater is school property—you just work in the back and do your little theater things whenever we need them, and if we decide you ought to work outside on the damp asphalt, you'd better bring a blanket. You're late, but no matter. We already have everything under control."

"Already have what under control? Your little leadership kid in the suit was about to drag me out of my own theater until I told him who I was."

"Growing pains, Mr. Cathcart. Everyone gets them. We need a few more teachers to supervise the assembly—you'll do. Come with me," Ms. Wolfe insisted, and they walked at a brisk pace to the lobby, where a few teachers milled about and clutched paperwork, consulting with the leadership representatives present.

"Since when did we have this much paperwork?" Mr. Cathcart asked in astonishment.

"We have a new way of doing things. More efficient. We decided, in consultation with our new student council, that this school lacks discipline. Many of the current students are beyond hope; everyone but a few idealists believes that. But the new kids... yes, I think we can get something done there." Mr. Cathcart refrained from commenting further, wisely assessing that now would be a poor time for dissent, but Ms. Wolfe kept talking verbosely to anyone else who would listen.

Mr. T led a few other teachers in supervising the assembly, which as club members were generously volunteering their time, really meant scowling appropriately at the right times to get any freshmen with attitude in line. As they queued outside in the cold to enter the theater, they were checked for appropriate paperwork; those who had lost their papers or simply creased them too badly were sent to a separate line, where their infractions were marked. Improper posture was corrected appropriately, or as appropriately as they could without using a meter stick to slap hunched spines. Ms. Norris, despite generally trying her hardest to avoid freshmen, came out too under the belief that it was never too soon to teach students something new. It was a remarkable transformation indeed to see shrill, shrimpy youngsters learn in an instant the value of following orders! Most teachers who taught freshmen were split on whether their boundless energy and occasional snark were things to be encouraged, and as much as these traits had their time and place, this wasn't it.

Frank sat in the back of the theater, even more out of sight than his usual seat as usher; Juliet had earlier expressed a strong desire to be the new freshmen's first impression of Heller on stage, saying that he was a bit "severe." An observant freshman who appeared not to know anyone else came to sit next to him and immediately noticed something wrong:

"What's up with your suit and tie? There's no dress code here, you can relax a little."

"I'm not a freshman, don't worry. I'm Frank, your school president. Nice to meet you," Frank said, extending his hand.

"Why are you back here instead of on stage?"

"Juliet thought she could do a better job, so I thought I'd humor her a little. Leadership is about delegation, and to be honest, it's been far more satisfying admiring my work from afar. You lose that perspective when you're in the thick of things."