Temple Holy Spirit

A short story of our times, written by wae on 6/18/2014.

Little did a twelve year old named Albert Dunson know that he might destroy a country at 2:00 on that fine Friday in April.

Normally when attacking a country it is best to sneak up on your enemy. Not Albert. He was clueless but completely guilty.

This particular young man had a talent for irritating his parents and teachers to the delight of his growing group of followers. Unfortunately for Albert, he was a poor student when it came to math. Barely keeping his head above water, his teacher extended mercy to him time and again. That is until the Arcadia public school’s substandard scores in math were posted on the school website, listing Mr. Brown’s third grade classes at the bottom.

Monday morning of the fateful week, with a renewed resolve to teach to the highest standards, Mr. Brown introduced the concept of Pi. Albert mind you, was barely comfortable with four whole apples and two whole oranges equaling six pieces of fruit.

Sadly, with the pressure of grades cutting off his ability to extend mercy, Mr. Brown quietly expected this particular student to fail. And decided he would let him do it. Even more unfortunate, Albert saw his impending fate clearly. And chose the low road.

Albert’s reasoning was simple: mercy had always been a part of his life. So, rather than recognizing mercy as a result of many kind-hearted souls around him, mercy was seen as a non-negotiable right that allowed him to cut corners whenever he wanted. Under the surface, Albert really simply needed one really good spanking to set his world to right. Instead, he started the Pi is three movement.

Only one thing stood in the way of Albert passing the test on PI that fateful Friday: his math teacher. So, calling to all his admiring followers, he promised everyone A’s in his third grade math class for the PI test. That is if they would all use the value of three for PI. All students agreed and submitted their papers.

Gathering up the test papers, Mr. Brown promised to post the results as always before class on Monday. Imagine his astonishment and confusion to grade the PI test after school that day to find their answers were wrong. In fact all papers were 100% wrong. In a daze he left the papers on top of his desk and walked home, leaving his car at school.

Sunday night, he received a knock on his door at home. It was Albert Dunson. “Hello, Mr. Brown”, he said respectfully.

Mr. Brown shifted uneasily but said nothing. The shock of the PI is three papers had rattled his world. A further shock was coming.

“Us kids voted” (Albert wasn’t a great student in English either), “and we decided that PI is too hard and needs to be changed. So we changed it.”

“But you can’t change it”, sputtered Mr. Brown, half laughing and half amazed.

“Well it’s been done and if you are smart you are going to go along with us. And I will tell you why. First, our grades are already pretty low in math, so if you fail us all, this will look bad on you. And you might lose your job”.

Mr. Brown knew this to be true but tactfully asked “there is a second reason”?

Albert replied, “Yeah, we also decided to all say you took some kids to the math closet one at a time. That is if you don’t go along with us”.

On a gray Monday morning, feeling even grayer inside Mr. Brown sat at his desk staring at the pile of PI papers with the test key on top. Had he looked carefully, he would have noticed the remains of a dried water droplet that had fallen and landed on the papers. Upon examination, he would have been more amazed to find the water was salty. Nevertheless, he made the fateful decision to “give in”.

Mr. Brown quietly posted passing grades on the PI test on Monday. And decided to stop teaching PI in his classes thereafter. That is he thought, ‘until things blew over and those horrid kids graduated’.

But things didn’t stop with Mr. Brown’s class. When fourth grade came around, his class pulled the same stunt on Ms. Jeffreys in her last year before retiring. Interestingly, news of this student triumph traveled wherever and whenever the students were transferred from school to school and town to town. Students learned to threaten and get their way. The PI is three movement spread.

In seven years, PI is three had become standardized as a kinder gentler mathematics. Child psychologists cited studies showing this new PI is three movement as reducing child suicides and wonderfully helping pre-teens with self-esteem issues.

Laws were passed with those same studies as justifying the PI is three movement, and mandated the teaching of PI is three. Cities and states were then forced to adopt new building codes stemming from a High Court ruling naming math-challenged people (those with low scores) to be a protected class.

The PI is three movement started to unravel in the ninth year. The automotive tire manufacturers had to make solid tires, as tubes could no longer hold air. Those solid tires ran down the road going lump lump lump. The toilet manufacturers all had leaky tanks as the pesky PI decimals were missing from all technical drawings by law. A new submarine instantly sank after christening. Complaining about any of these problems were judged to be hate crimes against math-challenged people and punishable with jail time.

Other countries started to laugh. There was talk of war with intolerant backward nations by PI-defending politicians. What was to be done?

In a shelf of a hall closet, a worn stack of improperly graded test papers had lain untouched. The owner of the papers, now an ex-teacher, was a world-weary Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown had for some reason chosen to hold on to the very thing that proved his compromise leading to the formation of the PI is three movement. He had witnessed with a growing horror that his very class was ground zero. And a conviction that the PI is three movement would eventually destroy Arcadia if left unchecked.

It took ten years but the tear worked its way through each of the papers and weakened the wooden shelf underneath. The papers flew throughout the apartment and were a signal, at least to Mr. Brown, that it was time to deal with the matter.

The next morning, ex teacher Mr. Brown sought an audience with the king. He shared the story as best he knew of the beginnings of the PI is three movement. And apologized to the king for his failure to defend mathematics, for lowering his teaching standards, and failing to protect the king’s young subjects.

The king was completely familiar with the whole affair. It was the king’s tear that fell on the graded test papers that day. But why and how the tear landed there is not central to the story, except to say that the king knew that sorrow is a cleansing agent and as a habit regularly walked his kingdom looking for people and places to plant seeds of hope.

After the king listened carefully to his subject he then asked, “Well Mr. Brown, what would you do if you could do it again?”

Mr. Brown shared, “I would call the principal and the kids’ parents and get permission for the guilty parties to be spanked in front of the class for making threats and starting a conspiracy.” He continued, “and I’d also apologize to the class for not fighting harder for them, saying from now on I’d keep teaching on the same subject until all my students actually learned the material, not just completing assignments and taking tests.

“Well then, you’d best be doing it”, replied the king. “At once”.

“One thing though”, the king leaned over to whisper something in Mr. Brown’s ear. Mr. Brown’s eyes got wide. He bowed and left the king’s presence.

Sixteen invitations swiftly carried by royal courier. Sixteen envelopes received.

Albert Dunson, now twenty-two, serving six to ten years for stealing from his employer while working as their bookkeeper, received his at the penitentiary. The royal courier handed the wax sealed document to Albert: an invitation by the king to come to Albert’s home town to his old elementary school Tuesday next. One did not decline the King’s invitations. Nor would one want to miss a get-out-of-jail-free opportunity.

It looked to be a normal classroom that Tuesday morning, except for fifteen adults uncomfortably squeezed into student desks. And the splendid golden throne upon which the king was seated in full regalia next to the teacher’s desk. One desk was empty: Albert’s.

Albert himself hid in a stall in the boys room until a royal page of the presence came to get him. “The king is ready” was all he said. Albert complied meekly, walking slowing down the hall to the classroom door and slid into his old desk on the back row. Every eye studiously avoided looking at Albert while carefully observing his every move.

With a nod from the king, the teacher Mr. Brown stood up and cleared his throat. “I truly am glad to have you all back here today after so long. I want you all to know that I recently went to see the king to tell him that I had let his Highness and you kids down.” He paused to see their astonished faces and continued, “And I want to apologize for not teaching you as well as I could. And letting you all fail at math.”

Cindie Sims compulsively raised her hand and then interrupted, “but I got an A in your class”.

Mr. Brown acknowledged mournfully, “not one of you learned how to use PI. Not one of you was prepared for the next grade level. Or for life. For several reasons, (all wrong) my grades were politically weighted. Mr. Brown continued, “the king has graciously forgiven me, with the requirement that I re-teach you sixteen of his subjects the correct concept PI, that is until you all can comfortably work problems”. A general gasp spread around the room. “I have already ordered out for lunch sandwiches. And can order out for dinner if need be.” The news was understood: no one was leaving until everyone could do the work.

Without direction, the gifted students moved their desks near the math-challenged students: everyone remembered who was who. Mr. Brown was actually a wonderful math teacher who for years had been divided in his attentions as how to grade and teach so his department and the school would be “recognized” in the province and his students would be competent. But no longer.

With the king’s enthusiastic approval he had worked for months on creative ways to teach PI, using the scale models of working toilets, rolling car tires, and submersible submarines. The students began to see the value and wisdom and hilarity of PI when right and wrong. Everyone, even Albert, learned the PI concept.

The king smiled and spoke, “my dears, this fixes the first and second of five problems and I am so pleased”.

Cindie Sims raised her hand (again), sweetly asking “might we know what those first two were my king?”

Nodding, the king replied “one: Mr. Brown beginning again to do his best, even when it is uncomfortable and two: you all choosing to work together so that all succeeded.

“One step completed well often reveals the next step, don’t you think?” The king continued, “Now for the next step Mr. Brown?” The teacher nodded. “If you recall, your teacher did not have permission to spank you unless the principal (my principal) gave prior approval. The principal has now given Mr. Brown a paper approving the spanking of Albert Dunson for threatening Mr. Brown and inciting the class to disobey authority.

Finally, Albert had something to say, “so the rest of the class avoids punishment?”

The king replied, “excellent question Mr. Dunson on whether they have been punished. Give me a show of hands: how many have leaky toilets in your home? All hands went up including the teacher and a reluctant Albert. How many of you drive an automobile that goes bumpety-bumpety-bump? All hands. How many of you have lost a job in the past ten years because of math? Over half including Mr. Brown. And I have lost a submarine, which means I have a harder time to protect you my subjects. Mr. Dunson, wouldn’t you say they have suffered enough for their choices?” The point was made: Albert nodded meekly. “Then”, said the king, “that fixes problem number three”, looking at Cindie and smiling, “making sure the class was aware that their punishment matched the crime”.

“Am I problem number four?” muttered Albert.

“Yes, you are my boy,” shared the king, “but not as you think. For you see, I have learned from my warden, Warden Jenson that you have learned that no food is tasty, even free prison food, when you are not free. And early shame has marked you falsely. As you are my subject, you are wonderful because I say you are and not because of your math skills, and none shall dispute, so says the king.”

“So says the king”, replied all those in the classroom.

“So the spanking is off?” asked Albert hopefully.

“By no means Mr. Dunson,” interrupted Mr. Brown. “I am charged to administer punishment fit for the crime.” Albert slumped in his desk.

Leaning forward in the throne, the king quietly slipped off his ermine robe and stood in his satin bloomers before the teacher. “Whack away Mr. Brown. I shall take Albert’s punishment”.

A strangled cry came from the back row of the classroom, “no!”. It was Albert Dunson. He ran to his teacher and sobbing grabbed the arm holding the paddle. Stuttering he looked straight and clear at the king, “nobody ever took nothing for me. Or helped me. Not in class. Not at work. Not in prison. What are you doing? I don’t understand”.

“You never knew your father did you Albert?”, whispered the king. Albert dropped his head and his arms. The king knelt down. “That wasn’t your fault either. I have decided to take your place. And I’d like you to become one of my sons and an heir, if you’ll have me”. The king kept his eyes on Albert until he nodded. The king smiled. The spanking finished quickly. No one watched except Albert who never took his eyes off the king face.

Rising, the king resumed the robes and throne. “Mr. Brown, I believe that takes care of problem number four, the redemption of Mr. Dunson, correct?”

The teacher nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes, your majesty. But we still have a problem. The country, all your subjects, are miserable. And the surrounding nations are all laughing at us.”

The king replied, “I believe that the answers are in this room, don’t you?” Mr. Brown smiled and nodded.

Two months later, with counsel from the King’s Arcadia Public School Third Grade Math advisory team lead by the king’s own son Prince Albert, a Royal Do Over was prepared, signed and pressed in wax with the king’s own signet ring. Arcadia repealed laws, recalled toilets and car tires, raised submarines, released hate crime prisoners, canceled lawsuits, reinstated teachers who refused to compromise with back pay, and retrained teachers who had without censure. And peace slowly returned to the land.

And PI ceased to be three.

And Albert, well that’s another story.