For all his acknowledged charm and sense of fair play Bob Darling held fast
to the belief that teachers should be held accountable for their actions.
Consequently there was not too much to argue about once an issue was
brought to his attention. Still, to show he wasn't exactly the cold bureaucrat
in long sleeves and tie, he made small but important gestures; like, for
instance, leaking information there would be a fire drill during a specific
period of the day.
No such warning went out when Principal Wamp entered the building one
morning. She didn't inform anyone until twenty minutes before it was
scheduled to begin.
She explained she'd been unhappy with the response to the last fire drill.
Most teachers were slow and nonchalant about vacating the building. Once
they got outside they tended to cluster on the sidewalk near the entrances.
This created a dangerous, congested situation with students still pouring
out the exits. Things like that left her very unhappy.
This time only the school's security officers were told about the fire drill.
This drill, she emphasized, would be as close to the real thing as she could
contrive. They were to make sure everyone ̶ students, teachers, everyone ̶
vacated the building, using the designated exits and following the
procedures she had gone over with the staff so many times.
The bells went off during the fifth period. A few teachers poked their heads
out of classroom doors, looked at each other, asked, Is it real this time? Bob
Darling's voice on the school address system cast all doubt aside.
They stood on the sidewalks hugging themselves, chattering and complain-
ning, while the wind whipped around them and gnawed its way through to
the bone. They stamped their feet, talking with fervor, as if spoken words
could help keep them warm.
Everyone assumed the drill would be over quickly. It made no sense holding
the entire school out on the sidewalks in this cold weather.
Five minutes, ten minutes. Still no signal to return inside. What had started
as a simple exercise now took on the proportion of something fiendish and
uncaring. Inside shivering hearts a strong desire raged to be gone from this
place, to drive or walk away from this building, never to return.
All eyes looked toward the doors where the security officers, their task of
clearing the building complete, stood around in shirt sleeves, joking,
enjoying what seemed a rare pleasure of officering at the gates of cold
duty.
A flurry of activity. A hint that perhaps it was over. And then Principal
Wamp stepped outside.
She was escorted by Head of Security, Mr. Mc Nulty. He walked with a limp
from an old Vietnam war wound, and seemed to heave his bulky body
forward in an effort to keep pace with Principal Wamp's quick steps. She'd
told him she wanted to have a look, to determine how well everyone had
followed instructions.
Rarely if ever had anyone seen the school's principal walking down a Bronx
sidewalk. They were slightly awed and attentive. She looked radiant in a
black blouse, set off by a red outfit, the shoulders square; and she seemed
undaunted by the chilly weather, appearing coatless, as if to set an example
of responsibility and fortitude.
Since everyone had assembled on the sidewalk across the street, her walk
took on the appearance of a celebrity tour of the school. She walked briskly
half way up the block, pointing across the street, making observations; while
Mr. Mc Nulty, staying close, gestured and offered his evaluations. She
paused and nodded; she seemed satisfied with what she saw; she turned
back.
Near the entrance she gave the first sign of being aware how cold it was.
She rubbed her arms and gave a mock shudder. She smiled as if now she
understood the terrible discomfort everyone must be feeling, all in the
interest of fire safety. Everyone thought she was about to wave them in.
Instead she seemed to be making a new puzzled appraisal of her students
and staff massed on the sidewalks.
Then she saw Phil Quackenbush, the chapter chairman, crossing the road,
hurrying toward her, no doubt to lodge some union grievance and protest.
She turned and went inside. And at that point the security officers waved
the all clear.
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!" a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 