Chapter 8: Rebellion

“Bitch!” Kendra’s voice cut through the air echoing my own before I got to the door. “You humiliated my friend and classmate. I don’t need this class.”

“Me either.” I turned at the door to see Susan standing up. “I already graduated from kindergarten. I don’t need a self-righteous nursery school teacher to humiliate me.” She picked up her books and headed toward Kendra and me.

“Now see here,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “I want this class to come to order immediately. There is no reason for everyone to fail it.” Half the class was already standing.

“We’re withdrawing, not failing,” Leonard said as he moved toward the door. I was backing out of the room looking at my classmates standing. “Teach the empty chairs in their nice neat rows about how to command attention when you speak.”

I turned and ran for the building entrance. I could hear the footsteps of my classmates behind me. What had they done? They couldn’t all just walk out! They’d get in trouble and it was my fault.

I fell on the steps outside the building. Just tripped over my own big feet and headed into a faceplant on the pavement. Kendra caught me.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I don’t want you in trouble.”

“Art! It’s okay,” Kendra said. She hugged me to her. Susan sandwiched me from the back.

“You aren’t in trouble and we aren’t in trouble,” Susan said. “We’re simply going to the Registrar’s office to withdraw from a worthless class.”

“We need to do more than that,” Jonathon, another of my classmates from last semester, said. “That bitch has to go.”

“But ... She’s the teacher,” I managed.

“She doesn’t deserve to be. We need to empty every one of her classes.”

“We need to act fast,” Susan said. “We need signs and to picket her classroom before the next class gets there.”

“I can get poster board. We can withdraw from the class after we’re sure others are getting the message. Art, you should go to make your withdrawal official right away. Leave this part to us.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Jim Little,” he said. “I was in Art Fundamentals with you last term. Even those in our class who hadn’t met you are behind us. Everyone left her class.”

“Th ... Thank you,” I managed.

“Kendra, you take Art to the Registrar’s office. I’ll intercept Annette before her next class to let her know what’s up. Jim is getting supplies. Jonathon, coordinate things with our classmates. Try to stop anyone from entering her classroom and tell them what happened,” Susan said. People started to scatter and Kendra led me off to the Registrar’s office.

I was just going to withdraw from the class, but Kendra had other ideas and my classmates were preparing for war. We filled out the paperwork and then Kendra demanded to see the Registrar herself.

“I think you should be aware that a general student strike is brewing,” Kendra told Ms. Larson when we were finally admitted to her office. “That woman has no business teaching in a college.”

“Kendra and Art, you undoubtedly have a reason for your vehemence in attacking Mrs. Reynolds, but she has very good references and will be teaching four classes this semester,” Ms. Larson said.

“Excuse me,” an assistant said from the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Larson, but six more students have dropped off withdrawal slips from the same class. Two of them were carrying signs that say ‘Support Art. Get Rid of the Bitch’.”

“What on earth?” Ms. Larson said. “Call Dean Kramer. We need to head this off right now.” She turned to Kendra and me. “If you had a part in organizing this, you may be expelled from the college. We have no tolerance for student rebellion.”

“We left the class and came directly here to withdraw,” Kendra said. “We also came to warn you that students, including us, were very angry about this teacher humiliating our friend and fellow student and ignoring his special needs in class.”

“Wait a minute,” Ms. Larson said. She looked over my withdrawal again. “Are you Professor Étrange’s son?” I nodded. “You may leave. We’ll take care of it from here.”

We left the office, suddenly dismissed, and passed Dean Kramer and President Escher on their way to visit the Registrar.

Annette met us as we left the administration building and wrapped me in a hug. Three more of my classmates were on their way in with withdrawal slips in their hands. It looked like everyone on campus was headed toward the office and many of them had signs.

I couldn’t imagine how word had spread so quickly. The next class session was just starting, but it didn’t look like anyone was in class. Many of the people who were approaching the administration building were people I recognized. They were all freshmen and most I’d drawn pictures of in my classes. They’d just gotten near the building when a frantic-looking Registrar, Dean, and President emerged from the building. They were recognized immediately.

“Get rid of the bitch!” someone shouted. I was suddenly surrounded by classmates who were facing the administrators and chanting, “Get rid of the bitch!” I just buried my head in Annette’s hair and cried.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I kept saying. I could feel my sister’s arms wrap me from the other side. I just knew it was her because I knew it was her. She started whispering to me that it would be okay. I knew it would never be okay. I’d be expelled and so would everyone who tried to help. I’d ruined college for half the freshmen.

Somehow, I got dragged along in the wake behind the President of the University and her chief administrators back to the liberal arts building where another hundred freshmen and a few older students were gathered with signs and chanting. Just before we got to the building, Dad caught up with us.

“Are you okay, son?” he said.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to.” That’s all I’d been saying the whole time since the thing started. I didn’t mean to start a student rebellion. I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble. Why couldn’t people see that I didn’t mean to make trouble?

“Arthur Pendragon Étrange,” Dad said. I looked up at him. “This is not your fault. You don’t need to be sorry. You need to be apologized to. Annette and Morgan ... Kendra ... come with Art and me, please.”

“Me, too,” Susan said. Dad smiled and nodded. He helped guide us through the crowd to the classroom. There was one student in the classroom with Mrs. Reynolds.

“Well, at last we’ll get some problem children taken care of,” Mrs. Reynolds spat as we walked into the room. “That student has disrupted my classes and is fomenting a student rebellion. I want him expelled.”

“Renee, is this how you are starting your first day as a college instructor?” Dr. Escher asked. “You owe this young man an apology.”

“I certainly will not!” Mrs. Reynolds shouted. “He disrupted my class, was disrespectful, and refused to participate in the exercise. He led a walkout and started a student strike. It is he that owes an apology.” I started to repeat my mantra of ‘I’m sorry.’ Morgan squeezed my hand and spun me around to hush me.

“Renee Reynolds,” Dean Kramer said. “I’m afraid there has been an abrupt change in student enrollment. It seems there is only one student enrolled in your classes and we can’t justify holding your position for just one student. Your services will no longer be required here at the University. Classes don’t start at the middle school until the 29th. I’m sure they have not filled your position there yet.”

“You ... You’re firing me?” she exclaimed. It looked like she truly didn’t even consider it a possibility.

“We’ll say it is a reduction in force due to lack of enrollment. There is a clause in your contract to that effect,” Dean Kramer said.

“You’ll hear from my lawyers about this,” she spat. The woman just didn’t give up.

“Let me give you the card of our legal counsel so your lawyer will know who to contact,” President Escher said. Two campus police officers came into the room behind us. “These gentlemen will escort you to your car to ensure your safety as you leave campus.”

Ms. Larson was on the verge of hyperventilating, but President Escher and Dean Kramer were calm and even kind as they helped Mrs. Reynolds gather her things and leave with the officers. The poor kid who had been sitting in her class was crouched down in his seat as if to hide from what was going on. No such luck.

“What’s your name, young man?” the Dean asked softly.

“Les Dorn,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“For what are you apologizing? It appears you were simply sitting here in class. I’m afraid it’s been canceled.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Please don’t tell my dad. If I get in trouble. He’ll kill me. I thought I had to be in class,” Les cried.

The Dean summoned Ms. Larson to his side and the two talked quietly with Les. President Escher stopped to say hi to us.

“Jean, I’m sorry about what happened today,” she said to my dad. “Arthur, are you doing okay now?” I swallowed and nodded.

“Dr. Escher, my son, Arthur. My daughter, Morgan. And their girlfriend, Annette.”

“Their?” she said cocking an eyebrow. She didn’t hesitate, though. “It is nice to meet you, Morgan. Annette. And what about these two lovely companions?”

“M ... mm ... My friends,” I managed. “Susan and Kendra.”

“Hello, Susan and Kendra. By all appearances, these are not your only friends on campus, Arthur. You gathered quite a group around you today.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Escher. I didn’t mean...”

“I’d say offhand that the young man talking to Dean Kramer could use a friend like you, too. We truly try to foster an environment where students can learn and release their creativity. It is not you who should be sorry, but me for making a hiring mistake. I didn’t think she was like that when I interviewed her, but sometimes people have an interview personality they can put on that will convince others they are something they are not,” the President sighed. “I won’t ask you to speak, but if you and your entourage could join me, I think I need to go speak to the students gathered outside. Do you suppose you could bring Mr. Dorn with us so he is identified with you and not scorned as a strike-breaker or something?”

Kendra and Susan went immediately to where Dean Kramer and Ms. Larson were encouraging Les and he joined us as we followed Dr. Escher onto the front steps of the Liberal Arts building.

“First, let me say that the problem that sparked this demonstration of support for one of your fellow students has been resolved,” Dr. Escher said from the steps. There were about 150 students gathered and many of them were carrying hastily made signs.

“Support Art!” someone yelled and there was a quick chant during which time a security person brought a portable speaker and microphone. Dr. Escher got them calmed down and started again.

“I like that slogan,” Dr. Escher said. “In fact, that is what our school is all about. When I came to this school five years ago, it was considered an elitist conclave of students and teachers who were out of touch with reality. I made it my mission to support art in our community and to show the worth of the education you receive here and the contribution you will make to our society. Today, there was an unfortunate conflict in a classroom that showed we are not always successful in choosing people and situations that reinforce that opinion. In response, you the students—especially you the freshman class—took up the cause and in your chants and your signs you came out to support Art. In doing so, you also supported the best of what this school has to offer.”

There were some more cheers and a little chanting until the President got people settled down again. I was breathing more calmly with Annette on one side of me and Morgan on the other. I saw that Les had a little smile on his face as Kendra and Susan sandwiched him between them. Dad had his hands on my shoulders from behind me.

“We have, for now, resolved the problem. Arthur and his family are satisfied with the dismissal of the offending party and our apology as an institution of higher education. I hope you will be as well. But all this leaves us with a bit of a dilemma. We have missed, almost in its entirety, the first day of the semester. I will inform all professors and will release a bulletin schoolwide that declares that tomorrow will be considered the first day of the semester and we will reset all classes to that timeframe. Those of you who got to a class this morning will have to suffer through the same lecture again tomorrow.” There was some laughter.

“For those of you freshmen who were in Liberal Arts Seminar II, in any unit, I encourage you to return to the classroom tomorrow. We will hold the withdrawal slips many of you submitted until the end of the week when you can come to the Registrar’s office and either rescind your withdrawal or confirm it. Some of you will enter a classroom with no instructor. We will do our best to rectify that by Wednesday. Since you will be without a faculty leader, I will give you your first day assignment. The Liberal Arts Seminar was designed to help you be successful in your college career and professional life. Please discuss in your seminar group ways that the events today illustrate the importance of good communication, study skills, investigative skills, and creativity. I would like you also to consider the role that developing friendship plays in your college career. If we have learned nothing else today, it is that friends come to the aid of friends, but also that people rise to support justice even when they don’t personally know the wronged party. Consider that and please make use of study and conversation areas on campus to keep the discussion going. You are what makes studying art so important.” There were some more cheers and Dr. Escher stepped back. She turned and pulled me toward her so I could wave at everyone. I don’t know what inspired me, but it was so overwhelming that I took the microphone from the President.

“Th ... Thank ... you...” I managed. I took a deep breath. “Friends,” I said.

“I want to go to bed,” I said simply. I was exhausted and the dinner conversation was making it even more difficult. Dad had invited Les, Susan, and Kendra to join us for dinner and there was a lot of getting to know each other. Les was the only son of a local real estate tycoon who was very domineering. The only reason he was at our school was because it was the only one available in our city that offered a full degree in business, even though it was arts management. His father didn’t want him to go out of town and didn’t want him to have an associate’s degree from the community college.

Of course, Mom wanted to know more about Susan and our proposed art project with her girlfriend. Mom had looked over Dad’s shoulder a few times while we were watching Zen the day before. I wondered what she could see when she looked at Susan’s and Les’s auras. We’d get to that sometime, but by the time Mom served apple pie for dessert, I was falling asleep in my chair.

“Good night everyone. Nice to meet you, Les,” I said. “Join us for lunch tomorrow.” With that I stumbled up the stairs and fell into bed. I was barely asleep when Morgan shook me awake to get me undressed and get my teeth brushed.

“You showed something I never saw before,” Morgan said as we finished brushing our teeth and went to join Annette in bed. “I saw you were a leader.”