Art Is Hard.

Philbert Einstein Fulbright is Eakin Stinkers’ best friend. They sit next to each other in art class.

Dr. Craig Kaiser Krause is the Art teacher here at Trapton School for the Unlearned. He makes us all pronounce his name, especially the doctor part. There’s a plaque on the wall that he points to when we don’t get it right. 

We are allowed to sharpen our pencils between 9:20 and 9:25am in Krause's classroom. Today, Philbert made the mistake of sharpening his pencil at 9:19. Kaiser Roll, as Eakin likes to call him, strolled over to Phil with his hands locked behind his back.

“What do you think you are doing, Einstein?" Phil could feel the teacher's breath on his neck. "Are you attempting to earn your 'F'? I want you to face your peers and state the four 'C's of my classroom."

Philbert glanced over at Eakin. "Compliance. Control. Consequence..." his eyes turned up and to the right.

"Yes?...Mr. Einstein?" Krause was almost smiling as he circled Phil like a bird of prey.

"Creativity." Eakin Stinkers whispered to Phil. Eakin is practically a ventriloquist.

"Creativity." Philbert repeated. Then he slunked back into his chair and put down his pencil.

Everyone, except for Eakin Stinkers, averted their eyes in any other direction. Eakin alone had his eyes locked on Krause. You see, last week Kaiser Roll said that Phil's glass mosaic looked like ‘the ground around a dumpster’. Then 'the Doctor' scribbled a 'D-' on it and displayed it on the 'Unexample' shelf. Philbert Einstein Fulbright has straight ‘A’s except for in Kaiser's class.

Krause began his usual lecture. He stood in the middle of the front of the room. “Today we will continue working on basic shadowing: a skill set that I am quite sure none of you have mastered. Copy what I do on the board and you will earn your grade.”

Kaiser then noticed that Phil's head was down on the table, “Philbert Einstein, sit up straight in your chair, and pick up that pencil!”

At this point Cindy and I could tell that Eakin Stinkers was about to flip out. His eyes were welling up. Also, he didn't look like he was about to make a joke. We saw him lose it one other time in 3rd grade when Mr. Miller tore up his essay and threw it in the trash in front of the whole class. Miller called it ‘garbage in the first place’. Anyways, we could see it coming.

Eakin jumped out of his chair. He snatched Kaiser’s plaque off the wall and shoved it under his arm. Then, he began to pace around the room. 

“Ok, Doctor Einstein, now you listen up.” The words flew out of his mouth like a disgruntled FBI agent. 

“My friend’s name is: Philbert Einstein Fulbright, but you, sir, may call him: Phil.”

Eakin squeezed Kaiser's diploma tighter under his arm and continued to roam the room like a yard dog. “This isn’t funny anymore, Kaiser Roll. Do you think that any of us want to be here with you at 9:10am on a Wednesday? You, sir, are a thief! You despise Phil, and you’re robbing him of his grade.” 

Eakin spun around to face Kaiser. He shook his finger at him as Principal Castigate does sometimes: “Why can’t you just let him succeed?” 

Kaiser’s face was a puzzle tossed on the floor. He stumbled back and landed on his black leather chair.

Now Eakin had him eye-to-eye. “Maybe your parents didn’t hold you enough as a child. Maybe you're jealous? Can you even stand to look at yourself in the mirror?” Stinkers held the plaque up to Krause’s face. “I’ve got bad news, Doc. This is not you! And, you are no better than us!” 

Eakin Stinkers took a deep breath and then stepped back. He gave one last look at Krause then he picked up Phil’s art portfolio from the table, tucked it under his arm with the teacher's plaque and walked out of the room. “Nope. Not happening.” He said to himself as he marched down the hallway. "Not on my watch."

Mr. Castigate was not surprised to see Stinkers walk into his office. He began to shuffle papers on his desk and stack them in front of him. He looked up, “Ok, Stinkers, who sent you here this time?”

“No one, sir. I have a complaint to file.” Castigate took note. Stinkers was unusually calm.

“What is it, Stinkers? Did somebody hit you?” The principal put the stack of papers onto another stack of papers and to the side.

“Mr. Castigate, may I please close the door?”

“Yes, of course, Eakin.” This was the first time Castigate had ever called him by his first name.

The boy shut the door and sat back down. He put both elbows on the desk and folded his hands together in front of him. “You see, Principal Castigate, Dr. Krause, the art teacher, passes out grades like a slap to the face. All of us are shooting for ‘Cs’ in his class, but my friend, Philbert Einstein Fulbright, is fighting for an ‘A’.”

Castigate leaned in, matching Eakin’s body language.

“Last week Dr. Krause humiliated Phil in front of the class. He held up Phil’s glass mosaic and called it ‘the ground around a dumpster’.” Eakin’s eyes started to well up again. “The Kaiser, I’m sorry, sir, Doctor Krause constantly demoralizes Fulbright in a cruel and inappropriate fashion.” 

Eakin then placed the plaque and the art portfolio side-by-side on Castigate’s desk and pushed them toward him. He looked up plainly and made one final statement. 

“Mr. Castigate, will you please take a look at Phil’s art portfolio and tell me if you think it deserves an ‘F’?”

Castigate sat up straight in his chair. His eyes grew weary and he looked down at the two documents. 

“Ok, Eakin. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You are dismissed.” Carl had to remind himself not to salute Eakin as the boy walked out the door.

Alone again, Principal Castigate glanced first at the framed diploma then turned his attention to Phil's portfolio. Each page had the date in the top right corner and there were details in every drawing. Carl looked out the window, then took a sip of coffee. His brow began to furrow as it sometimes does.

When he got to the last page, he sifted through the middle drawer of his desk looking for a red pen. He straightened his tie then scratched a large ‘A+’ on the inside cover of Phil's art portfolio. He took another sip of coffee, stuck the plaque and the portfolio under his arm and stepped out of his office.

“Mrs. Dinners, could you please return this to Room 207? ” He handed over the plaque. “Also, please buzz Kaiser and have him meet me in my office at 16:00 hours.”

“Do you mean Dr. Krause at 4pm?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Dinners. Send the art teacher to my office ASAP.”

“Do you want me to take that to Room 207 as well?” Dinners pointed to the portfolio.

“No, ma’am. I would like to deliver this one personally.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Dinners saluted Castigate with a broad smile. Carl couldn’t resist returning the gesture.

Mrs. Dinners told me once that Principal Castigate was a ‘JAG’ in the military. I’m not sure what that means, but after that day in art class, our grades shot way up, especially Philbert Fulbright’s.