Chapter 100: Let My People Type!

Sunday, March 20, 1983

Study Group was back to normal, if normal was swimming, playing games, napping, and relaxing. We were back to the start of a six-week grading period, so we could afford one more day of Spring Break, and we did.

Monday, March 21, 1983

I headed to Mr. Hannity’s room during lunch. If pressed, I had a plausible explanation for knowing where his room was (I passed it every day heading to Trig, after all) but not one for knowing how everything was laid out. That said, no one would ask me that.

In this life, Mr. Hannity had been an occasional antagonist. He was a stickler for rules and somewhat conservative.

In my first life, Mr. Hannity had been nearly a friend. Two years together, and me most likely his best student. One that could (and did) get away with things that no one else could have.

I’d have to tread lightly. He didn’t know me, and that might get me in trouble if I foolishly acted like he did.

I knocked at his open door, causing him to look up from some papers he was looking at.

“Can I ... help you? Um ... Steve ... is that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, stepping in. “Steve Marshall. And, I hope you can.”

He smiled a little, looking unsure of himself. “How is that?”

“You might know that I’m on the Student Council.”

He nodded at that.

“I’d like to push for a rule change to allow typewritten and computer-printed papers. Most teachers won’t accept them right now, citing parents’ secretaries as a reason. I know more students than just me can type and use a word processor, and that’s just going to go up every year.”

“Interesting. I’m sure some students would get someone to type their papers, though. It’d remove one sign of them cheating.”

“It’s a pretty weak sign,” I said. “Many college professors require typed papers already, and they’ll move to computer-printed soon, I believe. One of our missions is preparing students for college, and we’re not doing that as well as we could if we’re not even allowing students to type.”

“A good point. I agree. It seems like something I could support. Do you think you’ll have enough students?”

“I think the number will just go up from here. Sooner than you think, it’ll be a rare student who doesn’t use a word processor. We need to get people prepared.”

He nodded. “Optimistic, but prices are going down, and output is getting better. They’re doing some fancy things with dot-matrix printers now. I’ll support you on it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hannity. I appreciate it.”

“It’s a good idea, and I’m not a fan of rules that are only rules for reasons of convenience. A good paper is a good paper, typed or not, and a plagiarized paper is a problem whether or not it’s easy to catch.” He paused, thinking. “It should be possible to write a program to compare them. But, then, you’d have to have the paper already in electronic form, or type it in.”

“It sounds like a good idea,” I said. “Perhaps one day.”

He nodded. “Perhaps. Thanks for coming to me. I know we’ve gotten crosswise a few times, but you seem like a kid with a good head on your shoulders for the most part.”

“Most of us are, I think,” I said. “Sometimes it’s just a bit awkward, being advanced — which a lot of Memorial students are — and yet still children. Too many want to run before they’ve mastered walking.”

“Quite the observation!” he said. Then he shook his head. “And ... true, too.”

“If you ask me ... which, you didn’t,” I said, smiling, “Sometimes I think a bit too much time is spent hobbling kids and a bit too little on teaching them to run. Just a bit, but if the goal is for them to hit college running, more practice is good.”

“As long as they don’t just run headlong into trouble,” Mr. Hannity said. “I’ve seen too many good kids go bad.”

I nodded. “I agree with that, too. It must be a tough balancing act.”

“It is,” he said. “I don’t envy Principal Riggs his job. He’s the one who has the most balancing to do.”

“Definitely. Anyway, thank you for your help! I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be interested to see how this comes out. Your group has certainly made Student Council more interesting than I’ve seen in many years.”

“I’d hate to be boring,” I said.

He chuckled just a bit. “I’ve been accused of being a boring person. It has its points.”

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but all play and no work makes Jack scatterbrained and unprepared.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “A good attitude, to be sure. Balance is important.”

“Thanks again,” I said, heading for the door. “I’m sure you’ll hear more about this soon enough.”

“Looking forward to it.”

That was ... perhaps ... a breakthrough. I’d never change who Mr. Hannity was, and I didn’t want to, but I might have nudged him a bit in the right direction.

I briefly went over the plan with Cammie during the remainder of lunch. She loved the idea, which was no surprise.

The Student Council meeting was a bit consumed with people patting themselves on the back. This wasn’t the last meeting, of course — we still had two more. But, with the elections less than two weeks away, Tony clearly considered himself somewhat of a lame duck, and so did the other seniors.

This was especially true since we’d drawn only scattered opposition. Jaya was the only ‘Big Five’ candidate to have an opponent; Jason Brewer, a Junior-to-be who was a bit of a football star, if not a big one, was running against her. Jennie Collins was running against Annie Hill for Junior Rep. Aside from being Tony’s sister, I didn’t know Annie, and I didn’t know Jennie at all. Finally, Brad Wright was running against Barry Klein for Sophomore rep. I figured Tom Myerson knew what he was doing with Barry’s nomination, but I had no idea about either of them, and it wasn’t really my problem.

As for me, I just had to show up, give a speech, and that was that. Unless someone organized the best write-in campaign in school history, Megan, Jess, Amit, and I were in, as were four of the six class reps — including Sam Myers as the female sophomore rep.

It was all very anticlimactic compared to last year, but that was a good thing. We didn’t need all the drama.

No one had much of any substance for the meeting until we got to New Business. At that point, I said, “I have a proposal to toss out there.”

Tony looked surprised, but nodded at me, letting me proceed. He wanted me to take the reins, after all. Besides that, he’d left a lot to me already.

“I’d like to propose that Rules Review consider supporting a rule change to allow typed and/or computer-printed papers to be acceptable for all assignments.”

To my surprise, a few people applauded. Mikayla was one of them, along with Jess, Theresa, and Lizzie. Of course, two of those people would be gone next year.

Mikayla made that point. “Too late for me, but it’s a great idea. I hate handwriting paper after paper!”

Lizzie nodded. “That’s what we’ll be doing in college, anyway. I’ve already checked. They want everything typed.”

It was little surprise that all of them were girls. Whether or not they’d taken Typing, most likely they’d learned elsewhere.

Tony smiled. “Won’t help me, either. I’m a hunt-and-peck typist, and I’m out of here anyway. But it sounds good. Want to take it on, Cammie?”

“With pleasure!” she said.

“Then we’ve got a plan. Anything else?” Tony said.

No one had anything else, so we wrapped up and headed out. Two more meetings, and then I’d be the one directing the drying of the paint.

Tuesday, March 22, 1983

We celebrated Connie’s birthday in Study Group. Jimmy brought a cake and she blew out the candles. Then she surprised us a little. Not that we hadn’t perhaps known what she said, but her saying it was a surprise.

“Thank you, everyone!” she said, grinning. “I’ve known most of you for two and a half years. Some for less, but this applies to you, too. You are ... together ... just the best people I could’ve hoped to meet. You guys all know how shy I was at first, and how much I’ve changed, and you get the credit. Jimmy, too, of course, but he was shy as well, and now he’s not.”

Jimmy blushed at that, and squeezed her hand, smiling. Blush or not, she was right. He was a very different person.

“You — all of you — changed my life. And Jimmy’s! Oh, we’d have done great in high school, but we wouldn’t have been who we are. You all know I want to go to med school and that Jimmy’s looking at electrical engineering. Tough majors, but after what we’ve done together, we know we can do it. Next year I’ll be volunteering as a student trainer. I made a deal with Principal Riggs — it’ll count as my P.E. class, so I won’t have to tie up an elective slot.”

That was a surprise, and a big one. Go Connie! Getting it to count as her P.E. class for the year would save her shot at valedictorian.

And, yes, part of me also said that perhaps ‘deals’ like that should be available to everyone. However, part of the point was that ‘meek little Connie’ had gone off on her own, made a deal with Principal Riggs, and gotten what she wanted. That was better for her than if any of us had gone to bat for her. We knew she wasn’t shy and meek anymore. Her knowing it was far more important.