All My Kids

Principal Kinney pulled into the South parking lot in front of the school. With a perfectly blue sky, the first day of classes had begun as planned. The still empty parking lot was impeccably devoid of litter; manicured lawns lined the entrance to the building of Springfield High; the already risen sun, glistening off the dew of freshly mown fields, reflected in the distance. The building, a rectangular, red brick, two-story structure, marked its birth in a single slab at the entrance: 1972.

This academic year Springfield High was turning fifty, and Principal Kinney’s excitement was palpable. He had “butterflies in his stomach” as he prepared to leave the house.

Principal Kinney was particularly excited about the new freshman class. These were kids he already knew. He had been principal of the elementary school for the full five years they had been there. After their fifth grade year, he was reassigned to become the principal of Springfield High. Single and childless, Principal Kinney had special regard for these as his kids.

Entering the building, Kinney regarded his plate glass door reflection. Hair combed, tie and jacket in place, he pulled the door open, then turned right into the administrative offices, and headed to his corner, which was, naturally, the largest.

“Oh! Hi Mildred,” he said to the buxom matron stooped over the copy machine, studying the touch screen before she looked up.

“Good morning, Principal Kinney!” Mildred Maples, his executive secretary, chirped, her voice surprisingly high for her size (16) and her age (45). It was to Principal Kinney the most girlish thing about her.

“I didn’t see your car. Where did you park?”

“Over by maintenance. The custodians helped me bring in the donuts. I put some in the faculty lounge, but I kept a box for us. Do you want a donut?”

“Maybe later. But thanks. Very thoughtful of you!” Principal Kinney nodded, passing Mildred into his office, itself a source of satisfaction, with all things: pictures, books, awards, in their proper place, and his desk detritus free.

Seating himself behind his desk, Kinney saw Mildred entering his office with a mug of coffee. “Mildred, you read my mind.”

“Well, it’s only been the summer. My memory’s not that bad.”

“Of course not, Mildred. Very kind of you to remember.”

Principal Kinney pulled papers from his jacket breast pocket. He unfolded them, sipped his coffee. The paper was titled “Speech: First Day of School Morning Assembly.” Pen in hand, he periodically poked at the page. Stray comma, underline. Lastly, he inserted a single caret for the penultimate paragraph that read:

You are in the process of becoming young men and women, and our commitment is to you. You can always come to us, even with the things that, perhaps, you would have a hard time talking about with your parents.

Minutes later, yellow school buses began arriving on the North side, which also housed the student parking lot, for those who drove themselves. Students streamed into the entrances, and soon the halls were bustling with energy: boys and girls, each becoming a young man or woman in his or her own right, and some seeming to have already reached that destination, happy to see their classmates after a summer away; teachers carrying coffee cups – some with a donut in hand – strolling from faculty lounge to their homeroom; and then, as if by magic, a bell rang, and suddenly the halls were empty and quiet.

Principal Kinney took great delight in the orderly transformation. Everything was happening exactly as it is supposed to. He observed the phenomenon as a solitary being, the only one to whom the rules did not apply, insofar as he had the opportunity to walk the halls, peeking into some of the windows of the closed doors, particularly those in the ninth grade hall. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and he knocked on the door.

“Principal Kinney, what a nice surprise!”

“Good morning, Miss Mulrooney. I see your class is assembled.”

“Yes, it is. We just finished the Pledge of Allegiance.”

“That’s fine.” He looked over Miss Mulrooney’s shoulder and directly at Amanda Singer, seated, and doodling in her notebook. He was hoping his stare would raise her eyes to his, and when they did, he smiled and nodded. He had last seen her as a still pre-pubescent eleven year old girl. She had since become a…

“Will there be anything else at the moment?” Miss Mulrooney cheerfully inquired, intruding upon the thoughts of Principal Kinney.

“No, Miss Mulrooney, thank you.” He backed away, never having crossed the threshold of the door. “Well, see you at the assembly,” he nodded and walked down the hall, in the direction of his office, clearing his throat, and straightening his tie.

Principal Kinney was looking forward to speaking with Amanda. She would be able to help him restart the program that had lain dormant for these past three years.

——————————————————————

As principal of Springfield Elementary, Kinney had innovated a disciplinary technique that is what he swore he would do if he ever had kids of his own. He believed there needed to be contact, which, strictly defined, is corporal punishment, but he was not a mean man. No! He did not want there to be tears in the principal's office – his office – for goodness sake. That would repel the children from wanting ever to come back. He wanted to attract, not repel. He wanted to draw the children to him.

Well, now, let’s be specific, Kinney. You did not want to draw all of the children to you, did you? You only wanted to draw certain of them, like Amanda Singer, to you. Why, pray tell, Kinney? Why Amanda? And why who else? What did they have in common?

Be honest, Kinney! You only really wanted to draw the girls to you. That’s why you would tickle them. How many boys did you tickle, after you gave them their punishment? Was there ever even one? No, it was the girls. You’re a sicko, Kinney! What is the matter with you? These were six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven at the oldest, year old girls. What did you think was going to happen when you were tickling them?

It wasn’t like that! I did it for their own good. It was never for me. It was so that they would not fear authority. It was so that they would learn to understand that punishment does not have to be devoid of pleasure. Would you rather I have whipped them? Is not tickling more humane than whipping?

Well, what was the punishment then? This ought to be good.

You know, it’s elementary school. There’s a lot of missing recess or having to come to the principal’s office for lunch. C’mon, you were there.

Was I though? I mean, did I exist before or only after you hatched your little plan that enabled you to arouse yourself at work during the day in an elementary school with the students whose parents put their care in your trust.

Yes, and all I ever did was help them. Even with the punishment, especially because of the tickling! And, if ever there had been arousal… I suppose that was my …

Don’t you say it!

What?

I know what you were going to say, and I’m saying don’t say it!

Of course you know, you are me. But it’s true! – It was my reward.

There you go, you went ahead and said it!

My reward for doing good.

——————————————————————

“You wanted to see me, Principal Kinney?

Principal Kinney blinked.

“Miss Maples said to come right in.”

“Of course,” Principal Kinney stood and motioned with his arm, “Let’s sit down over here.”

He walked around his desk to the area that was set with a sofa and arm chair, both black leather, and a glass coffee table.

He slid between the chair and the table to reach the sofa and then sat down, patted the cushion next to him, and beckoned with his hand for Amanda to join him.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she obliged and sat next to Kinney on the sofa, her posture erect. She placed her book bag on the floor next to her.

Fake leafy potted plants at either end of the sofa obscured views from the side. As a result, only Kinney’s desk, its empty chair rolled back, was visible, directly across from the sofa. Other contours of the office placed the sofa out of view of any windows, though the natural light flowing through them was so plentiful Amanda may not have noticed that the lights were switched off.

“How was middle school?” Kinney sat back on the sofa and was pleased at the translucent effect of the light through the blouse, the outline of lace, bra, as he nodded approvingly, a stern expression betraying his sheer delight beneath the surface. She’s mine. These kids are mine!

“Well, there’s not much to tell, Principal Kinney. I mean, I don’t know. I started running track there, and I guess I’m pretty good. Coach Janine had already reached out to me over the summer to make sure I would be coming out for cross country.”

“And so you are?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, we’ve been having practice – summer sessions – for the last two weeks, meeting here at the track. Then we do our run from there or we drive to our home course. We only did that once actually.”

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Amanda. I’m so happy for you. How are you enjoying the ‘harrier squad,’ as I like to say.”

“You mean the girls on the team? Oh, they’re great. We all get along really well, and they have all been really sweet and welcoming. Some are a bit quiet, but I think they just may be a little shy.”

“Perhaps that is true. But maybe they are anticipating that this new up and coming freshman whipper snapper is going to take their spot on varsity!”

“Oh, do you think I could, Principal Kinney?”

“Well, that’s up to you. But what I do know is that in cross country, it’s about the time, no second guessing or coaches’ judgment about it. So I suggest you just go out there and run your cute little butt off.” Kinney smiled.

“Well, I guess you’re right, Principal Kinney, I just need to run my little ass off.”

“Young lady, that’s a bit fresh. Butt is okay to say. But you said, ‘ass’, and now I think I might have to punish you.

“Are you going to tickle me again, Principal Kinney?”

“What do you think I should do, Amanda? You know it’s for your own good.”

“Well, I could offer to apologize for saying, you know, the word I shouldn’t have said.”

“Mm hmm,” Kinney acknowledged. “What else?”

“I could promise never to do it again.”

“Anything else?”

“Is there something else you want me to say? I am really sorry.”

“Amanda, it’s okay. ‘Ass’ is not such a bad word. Perhaps I overreacted a bit. Maybe we can agree that the most important thing is you do your best, and if there’s a chance for you to be on varsity, I have every confidence, if anyone can do it as a freshman, you will.”

“Oh, thank you Principal Kinney. That really means a lot to me.”

“So, no punishment. But, perhaps, a favor?”

“What sort of favor, Principal Kinney?”

Yeah, Kinney, what sort of ‘favor’?

“Your opinion, really.”

“On what?” Amanda’s posture relaxed, and she shifted to face Kinney.

“Uniforms.”

“What about them?”

“I’m thinking about reinstating uniforms at Springfield High.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be very popular, Principal Kinney.”

“No? Why not?”

“Well, people like their individual expression. How we dress is part of how we get to express ourselves.”

“Fair point. You were always so bright, Amanda. Really, I respect the cogency of your thoughts. But hear me out. There are many benefits to a uniform. In the long run, it will give you more budget and more freedom to express yourself in the clothes you really want to wear, because you won’t have to spend nearly as much on school clothes. Point one. Point two, you know those mornings that you just don’t know what to wear? Gone! That’s a weekend problem only now. Every other day, that question is answered for you by the uniform. Third, studies have shown that a uniform raises standardized test scores by an average of five to 10 percent, which is why all private schools use them. And last, but not least…” Kinney took a deep breath, “wearing a uniform helps prepare each of you for life in a professional environment, whether that is wearing a business suit, which is a kind of uniform, or wearing an official uniform as a firefighter, nurse, doctor, judge, police or military officer. They all wear uniforms. I think it would make for a more professional environment here at Springfield High.”

“Wow! Okay, well, that was a lot all at once. But I will have to say it all sounds true. I think.” She looked at Principal Kinney.

“Right! Good! So, humor me then, if you would please, Amanda.” Kinney stood and ran back to his desk, reached under where his feet would go if he were sitting at it, and pulled out a bag with three large rectangular boxes. Holding the bag by the bottom, he used his other hand to take out a box, place it on the table and open it.

Inside, a plaid skirt with a white blouse and navy cardigan were neatly folded.

“Would you be so kind, Amanda.”

Amanda looked at Principal Kinney with a look of pained confusion. “I … , I don’t… “

“Now, now, Amanda, don’t get upset. We are just exploring the possibility of uniforms, and my hands are kind of full here, could you just pull the set out of that box there, clear it, so I can lay down another, and then we can compare all three.”

“You want my opinion on which uniform looks best, is that all?”

“Yes, exactly. That,” he paused and cocked his head to one side, “and what size do you wear?”

“I wear a six.” Amanda bit her lip. “But why do you need to know that?”

“Just curious is all. I think that might be sort of like size 9 for guys’ shoes.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s the safe bet. Fits the greatest number of people. Check them as you take them out, but I’m pretty sure these are all size six.”

Amanda checked the tag of the first uniform. It was indeed size six. She pulled a second box and laid the contents in the middle of the table, next to the first. Also size six. Then she opened the top of the last box while Principal Kinney held it. “Two size sixes and one size eight,” she announced.

“See! I was close,” Principal Kinney boasted. “Not bad for someone without kids of his own.”

“So, do you want me to tell you which of these I like best?”

Three raps on the door froze them both.

Principal Kinney glanced around at the boxes in disarray surrounding his feet, the uniforms neatly laid, side by side, on the table, and Amanda, now seated in the center of the sofa. He cleared his throat, and, while walking to the door, said “Yes.”

The door opened and Mildred poked her head in just as Kinney approached it. “Principal Kinney,” Mildred spoke quietly, unsure of what she might have been interrupting. “I just wanted to be sure you have everything you need. I’m about to leave for the day. The last buses have already left.”

Kinney, in a reverently hushed tone and at a volume approaching whispering, replied, “Goodness, I must have lost track of time. I am in the midst of an ad hoc committee meeting on the topic of school uniforms, and it became a more absorbing topic than I expected.”

“I see.” Mildred seemed relieved. “So, you’re good then?”

“Yes, quite good. See you tomorrow, Mildred.”

“Good afternoon.” She closed the door, and Kinney pressed it behind her to ensure it clicked, then, as deftly as he could, he turned a deadbolt lock.

Kinney reappeared before Amanda, “Sorry for the interruption.”

“It’s not a problem, but, Principal Kinney, I had not realized the time. I should really get home.”

“It’s too late.” Kinney mocked his stern expression, then, upon seeing Amanda’s response sought to convert it to a smile that more closely resembled a leer.

“Too late?” Amanda shifted in her seat and pulled her book bag closer to her feet. Pained confusion was returning to her expression.

“Yes, I’m afraid the last buses have already left for the day.”

“Well, that’s okay. I can call my mom. She will pick me up.”

“Let’s not trouble Mrs. Singer. How about this! I’ll make you a deal. You try on these uniforms and we make a decision about which one is best and then I drive you home. How does that sound?”

Amanda looked away from Principal Kinney, then down at the ground. “Where can I change?”

Kinney clasped his hands together, and waved his elbows. On the inside he felt like he was dancing a jig. “I’ll make it easy for you. You change here, and I’ll just wait on the other side of the plant facing the other way, no peeking, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise!”

“Okay.”

As Amanda changed, Kinney could hear the rustle of clothes behind him. “Amanda?”

“Yes, Principal Kinney?”

“You remember why principal is spelled the way it is, don’t you?”

“Because you’re my ‘pal’.”

“That’s right! You do remember. I will always be your pal.” With anticipation about what he would see when he turned around, Kinney thought, This is going to be a great year! I love my kids so much.

THE END