“Of course I heard you, Miss Feather,” I said, prying my eyes open. “Meryl is a good kid, that’s what you said. And I’m very proud of her. And you’re an excellent teacher, one of the very best in North America, and we’re extremely privileged to have you in our midst.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” said Miss Feather, shifting from one gingham loaf to the other. “What I’m saying is that your daughter Meryl is exhibiting behavior that is commonly associated with…”
I glanced out the window at a shady tree with fiery red blossoms like lobster claws. In fact, thought I, that might be the name of said tree. The lobster tree. Yes. And beyond that--holding up a garden portico--were four Roman columns, blindingly white in the too-damn-early-in-the-morning sun. What, I pondered thoughtfully, is the difference between Ionic and Corinthian anyway? Would Miss Feather know? And what about cumulo-nimbus?
"…because Meryl has worn her Halloween costume to school every day since October, Mr. Yarborough. Surely you’ve seen her in her purple sari and foil headdress? Does she refer to herself as The Goddess Lakshmi at home? We’re certain this attention-seeking behavior originates from her need to feel…" she yammered.
And what about Myron, I thought. His attention seeking-behavior is completely out of control, too. I might have to “up” his Valium. Yesterday he said he hears clicks on his phone, that it’s bugged, and wherever he goes, he’s followed by a black-windowed Bentley. If he doesn’t show up with those diamonds at next Saturday's’s meeting with the producers, he says, his life will be worthless. I assured him the producers would take an IOU (That’s how Hollywood runs! Movies never show a profit anyway!!) but I don’t think he was listening.
“…and so if you will come to school and watch our Show-and-Tell hour on Thursday,” Miss Feather continued, “it would be very helpful to Meryl psychologically. Will you commit to that?”
How, I wondered, will Show-and-Tell prepare Meryl for Yale Drama School? Answer: it won’t!
“Will you commit to showing up for it?” said Miss Feather, standing up, grasping my hand and stepping on my foot. “Well, will you?”
“Of course I'd be delighted,” I said, pulling away. “And what joy our little chat has brought me.” I slipped a roll of hundreds--seven of them--into her palm. “I'm sure you've noticed Meryl is much too bright for kindergarten, so if you’d see to it that she gets all A’s, I’d be very grateful. We need a full scholarship to Yale Drama and I hear they look at the student’s whole history. I'm hoping her mother will appear somewhere down the line to claim her kid but I ain't counting on it!”
“Mr. Yarborough,” said Miss Feather, coldly, “this is kindergarten. We do not give out letter grades in kindergarten and if we did, we certainly would not accept bribes from parents.”
“That’s not a bribe, that’s a tip. But suit yourself, sister. I‘ll just take it back.” I put out my hand.
“No you won’t,” she said. “I’ll bring this to the principal and we’ll use it for art supplies. The school graciously accepts your donation.”
“Oh yeah?" I said. "Well maybe I don't want the school to ‘accept’ my donation.”
“Well, maybe we’re going to ‘accept’ it anyway,” she said.
“Well maybe I’ll just have to ‘accept’ it right back from you,” I said.
“Well, maybe I’d like to see you try,” she said, stepping forward.
“Well, maybe I’ll just---hey,” I said, pointing out the window, “isn’t that a cumulo-nimbus?”
“What?” she said, turning to look, which she shouldn’t have. I ‘accepted’ the bills and ran.
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