School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter Five

DANNY

I didn’t feel any of the fear like I would have last year, if I had been called into anyone’s office. I came back to our cohort room, and the door was open, and Sam, in his deep and smooth announcer's voice, said, “Hey, Danny, please close the door and join me up here.” He was sitting by the recently erased whiteboard. that reminded me that he had other cohorts besides the one I attended this morning. He motioned me to the closest chair. “Well, my good man, tell me about how you feel after your first day at Two Thousand Smiles. I see a bit of a smile. Does that mean you only feel a bit good about your day?”

That is the first time in my life any teacher or any adult in a school ever asked me how I felt. So, I wasn't sure how to answer that, so I nervously blurted out, "This has been the wackiest day in my life. Uh, no, the wackiest good day in my life. I, uh, oh shit, I don’t know how to talk to you at all. Sorry, Sir.”

“I think I heard a bit of a stutter when you corrected yourself about the wacky day. Please tell me about that non-happy wacky day.”

For some damn crazy reason, I said, “I thought about the day two years ago when dad was away at some police conference in Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. Mom decided that she needed us to run away from home. Her idea was to go to Memphis, the largest city near us. She pleaded with someone to take us there after Dad left, but she couldn’t find anyone. I don’t think she knew many people to ask.  We took a Greyhound bus.” I was shaking even thinking of that time.

I glanced over at Sam, and he was waiting but didn’t seem to be impatient at all, just concerned. I was sure he’d think I was crazy if I told him because I didn’t know why I even thought of it in the first place.

I think it was several minutes before he said, “I’m guessing, Danny, that day was a helluva bad day you’re remembering – like a very hurtful day. I hope you’ll go on and tell me more.“

“Thank you, uh, Sir.”

“Again, please call me Sam. Sir makes me feel old. So, tell me about the bad wacky day.”

I think his voice sounded like the warmest man’s voice I’d ever heard in my life. I started blubbering, and through my tears, I told him that Dad had married Mom when she was only fifteen and he was more than twice as old as her, somewhere in his thirties or forties." I took a deep breath and went on, deciding to tell him the truth, and I didn’t pay any attention to the words I used. If he told me to talk like a proper young student, I would tell him to go to hell and leave this phony place. “He’s a horrible asshole, and I hate his guts, and I’m worried about my mom and my two little sisters because that bastard will hurt them and even kill my mom. Mom and the three of us kids went to Memphis when ol’ asshole was away, and the most horrible thing happened when we got to the city and got off the bus. There was our dad standing there. I froze and he grabbed Mom and acted like he was hugging her, but really, he was squeezing her so hard he almost killed her. Then he ordered us all to get into his sheriff’s car, and when we got home, he ordered the girls to go upstairs. Then he dragged Mom up the stairs, struck her, threw her down the stairs, ran down the stairs, and started hitting and kicking her. I know he went upstairs with her so he could say she fell down the stairs. He wanted me to watch all this so I would know what was coming for me, and then he walloped me. I blacked out. While mom was passed out, he took her to the hospital. I’m sure he told them she fell down the stairs, and I’m sure nobody believed him because he’d said that before, and everybody was scared of him.” I said all this through gallons of tears, and I just sat there bawling like a baby. I finally turned off my crybaby self and said, “And that’s my bad wacky day, Sam.”

Sam sat there, and I looked up and was surprised to see that he was crying, too. I don’t think I ever saw a grown man cry before, except in the movies. We sat there in silence for I don’t know how long, and then he said, “Wacky isn’t a word for that day, Danny.  Horrible comes to mind. Thank you for telling me about it. And how long was your mom in the hospital, and oh. What is her first name?”

I said, “Marge. The doctors just bandaged her up, put a cast on her broken leg, and sent her home. He told me that the hospital people told him that he should get someone to take care of her for at least four weeks while her broken right leg and left ankle healed. And he got a caretaker, all right – me. I was my mom’s caretaker for over three months, until the end of the school year, which I flunked. I was nine, almost ten, and I had a hard time turning mom over in bed, and she got some awful sores that dad just said were called ‘bed sores’ and that everybody who had to stay in bed a lot got them. And he said I needed to turn her over more often. He would only come into the bedroom to get clothes and stuff, and I don’t think the shithead ever even looked at mom. Nobody was allowed in the house, and my sister Susan missed first grade for the school year, too. I’m sorry for talking so much.” I was glad to have someone to tell about how mom was treated and what a sonofabitch dad was and is.

Sam scooted his chair over and put his arm around me, and  that felt so good, I started blubbering all over again. “My lord, Danny, that is the saddest story I’ve ever heard. I spoke with Clare Danley, your social worker, and she shared some information about your family situation in Mississippi. She said that your dad sounded like an ancient evil tribal chief, king, or some  kind of tyrant. Before we talk more about your horrible day, I would like to hear how you felt today. Most importantly, do you feel safe here? And feel a little joy, too?”

“Yeah, I almost forgot about what school was like in ol’ Mississippi, but I kept wondering when the hammer would fall on my head and I’d wake up to that old world of mine.” Sam must be the most patient older man I’ve ever met, cuz he just kept looking at me like I was the only person in his world  - I mean, in a good way. “Everyone is so damn nice, it’s uh, unreal, and Ella is…what did you call her, oh yeah, a great gal. She is that. She’s patient and kind, just like you. Thank you for assigning her to be my guide. And it seems like every hour, something new and different is happening. Back at the old school, we all sat there, getting bored, and worked hard to avoid falling asleep and getting detention. I think all the adults – teachers, vice principals, and well, every-damn-buddy – hate kids and need a job. Do you all really like us, or are you putting on an act? Right now, I get the feeling that you like me and…” I started blubbering again, damn . “and…damn, there I go again, sorry.”

Sam reached behind him, grabbed a handful of tissues, and handed them to me. “Danny, I do care, and I do believe that every adult on our staff does genuinely care about our students and care about one another. Now, I do have a concern about ol’ asshole. Oh, and I don’t think asshole is a good word for him. Assholes serve a useful purpose, and as far as I can tell, your dad is, for me, more like a rattlesnake. I hate rattlesnakes and don’t think they have any good use at all. They just hurt people – sounds like your pa, wouldn’t you say?”

I did manage to smile about his comments. Not only did I not get scolded for using the word asshole but I got corrected for it in a funny way. ”Now, Sam, what are your concerns about ol’ Rattlesnake?”

“Well, you know Clare Danley found you on the internet after searching for missing boys in the United States. And now I’m worried that Deputy Rattlesnake can do the same thing and find you here. I told Clare that we should keep your last name as ‘White’ for now, but your dad…I hate to call him ‘dad’… it will make the connection just like Clare did. But maybe it will take him a while longer. At least we hope so. So, Danny, tell me, is he a killer? I now know he’s cruel and vicious, but does he murder people with his guns?”

“I don’t know for sure, but he has killed three or four people in the line of duty. At least that is what he says, but there’s nobody to challenge him on that. I know that one of them was his dad because I saw it. Grampa had gotten on his case about him being so mean to my mom, and they argued about it. My Rattlesnake, hey, I thought of a name for him, ‘Ratso’, anyway, he told Grampa to shut the fuck up or he’d beat him the hell up. Grampa told him to go to hell, and Ratso beat him to death. He told the men who arrived in an ambulance that Grandpa had fallen down the stairs, but he didn’t mention that they were in the living room. I was only five years old and he told me not to tell anybody and, uh, Sam, you are the only one I’ve told.” My voice quivered when I added, “He’ll kill me, I know he would, if he found out.”

“Don’t worry, Danny, I’ll only tell someone if and when he’s in jail and I am present in a courtroom. God, I’m talking to you like you’re a grownup, aren’t I?”

I just wish I had a wonderfully smooth voice like him. “Yeah, and I like it. Nobody has ever done that before. All adults talked to me like I was just a kid – except you and Miss Danley. You know, Sam, that’s what I like best about this school – I’m treated like a person – a real live person who thinks and feels. So, thank you.” We both stood up, and Sam hugged me even though my nose was right at his chest. and his hug made me cry again.

 

Sam held me out in front of him and looked me in the eyes and said, “Danny, I am worried that your dad might come here to California to get you. Now, as you know, the internet is brilliant these days, and it can find nearly anything or anyone for us. From what you are saying, your dad might bring an automatic rifle and demand you come with him. I don’t want to expel you from school because I believe this is a good place for you to heal and potentially find safety. I don’t want to alert the whole school to the possibility of a madman coming into our school, as that would scare the hell out of everyone. I can make sure we have maybe two more policemen without uniforms.”

“I like the idea of more policemen. I didn’t know we already had one, so I’m not sure what else to do. Dad is a big man – not fat but tall and very muscular. He likes to think he’s tough, and if you met him, you'd know what I mean - he's taller than you and probubley weighs lots more and none of it is fat. It didn't impress Mom becuz she said he was the devil in disguise. I hadn’t thought about Dad coming to San Diego. He always made sure he was ‘on duty’ back in Flowers County.”

Sam told me that he thought my dad was a sociopath. He would like me to permit him to discuss Ratso with a friend at the FBI. He told me that everything I had told him was confidential, and everything he said to me was confidential as well. I felt good that he wanted my okay to talk to an FBI friend about Ratso. I knew he was taking me seriously when he said that I’d have to look it up the meaning of sociopath on my new laptop. Of course, the idea of his coming or ever being here scared the shit outta me. He told me that he’d talk to the FBI person and Clare Danley, and he’d talk to me tomorrow or as soon as he could.

Before he left the room, he said, “Danny, please don’t let fear of your dad smother all your good feelings about this, your first day of school.” I think it helped to see Ella also leaving the building at the same time. She smiled when she saw me. 

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter Four

DANNY

I almost reached over and took Ella’s hand when she pointed at two high schoolers holding signs with our names on them. This school gets stranger and stranger. Ella said, “This guy will be your big brother this semester, and you’ll have lunch with him every Tuesday and Thursday. And the girl will be my big sister for the semester. I’ve seen them around school the last two years, but I can’t say I know them. The guy’s name is Jack Sanchez, and he plays basketball. Let’s go meet them.”

Ella led me to where the two teens were standing and introduced me as a new student. They were friendly, and Jack Sanchez, my new ‘big brother,’ said, “Well, Danny, welcome to Thousand Smiles.” I said thanks.

Julie Stang, Ella’s big sister, asked, “And where are you from, Danny?” I replied, “Mississippi.” She said she had never been there and was looking forward to hearing more, then quickly added, “Let’s go in for lunch.”

Boy, the girls are sure different here. Julie took my hand and we went into the dining hall. Both teens seemed to know where to take us, and we found one of the 25 or so large round tables with eight chairs.

Jack Sanchez pulled out a chair for me and sat down. Wow, a high schooler pulling out a chair for a fifth grader! This school is so damn strange. Like the hick that I was, I exclaimed, “Look, real silverware - forks, spoons, and knives!” All seven of my tablemates chuckled or laughed at this. The plates are still plastic, but a better kind than the disposable ones I was used to. I looked around the room and focused on the inside walls – I couldn’t see the cafeteria line. I asked, “And now do we go to a cafeteria line? And where is it? In a different room?”

Jack gently put a hand on my shoulder and looked at Ella sitting next to him, “Ella, you need to educate your guest a bit better. Get your lazy butt in gear, young lady,” He chuckled. Ella said, “He’s doing great, so you just do your part and tell him why he’s sitting at a table with a know-it-all, like you.

“Okay, I will.” He turned to me, “As I understand it, Danny, the fellow, Ella’s grandfather, who started these kind of K-12 schools,  Dr. Mark Haloran, back in 2018 or around that time, thought there was too much age segregation in our society and thought that it all started with the way schools were all divided into one small school called kindergarten, then a bigger elementary school for five grades and another middle school for sixth through eighth and then high school. And I went to one of those kinds of schools, and believe me, Ten Thousand Smiles is a million times better.”

17.

I looked around Jack and asked Ella, “You’re very own grandpa is the person who invented this type of school? Why didn’t you tell me?

“And what difference would it make? And when would I have had time to tell you?” She sounded impatient. I just shrugged, and she continued, “And Jack is just showing us that he is a good listener. My grandfather, Mark Haloran, visits our school every year and goes around to every class. So you’ll get to meet him then. He stays at our house when he’s here from Missouri.”

Just then, an elderly woman pushing a cart stopped next to our table. “Good day, boys and girls, I’m Isabel, and I will be your volunteer waitress for you this semester, and if you are kind, I may stay for next semester. And if you are unkind…” She stopped talking and gave us a big smile and continued, “I’ll pour a bowl of hot soup on your heads.”

All seven of my tablemates assured her that we were the kindest and most polite bunch in the universe. Then we giggled, and I joined them. Isabel began placing food on the table. There were two bowls of mixed vegetable salads, a dish that looked like meat but wasn’t. Ella whispered to me that meat from animals, chickens, pigs, or cows, was not allowed in California’s public schools and other state institutions. Californians would have starved in Mississippi. Again, I thought I was in a completely foreign country.

The designers of the dining hall were geniuses, as over 275 people ate lunch and talked without the noise being too loud. You could hear nearly everyone at the table without straining. For example, I learned that Jack grew up in Kansas, had a bunch of brothers and sisters, and attended a private Catholic school in the Kansas City area. He said he hoped to learn a bit about all of us. I was sitting next to him, and he said, “You looked a bit puzzled when I mentioned that I went to a Catholic college. Were there any Catholics in Mississippi?”

“I don’t know, Sir, I didn’t know any. Is that the name of a religion?”

“Hey man, my name’s Jack, not Sir.” He smiled all friendly-like and looked at his fellow high schooler at our table, Art Shiff, and almost yelled, “Oh man, Art, did you hear him call me ‘Sir’?” Art nodded, and Jack continued, “Danny, seriously, were you supposed to call a junior in high school ‘sir’?”

“We never had any high school students in our school. I was kinda looking forward to being one of the top dogs in the fifth grade in middle school back in Mississippi, but I moved to California instead. I think fifth grade here is better, anyway.” We were all eating while we talked, and there was one thing similar about the girls here and in Mississippi, and that was that the girls were more well-mannered eaters than the boys. And the boys were all slobs. After lunch, Jack, Ella, and I went slowly.

18.

Walked over to the building where Ella and I had our exercise class. I learned that Jack’s dad had died back in Kansas, and his mom and siblings all moved to California, where his oldest brother and sister lived. Jack worked after school as a gardener here at the school and on Saturday.

We arrived at our classroom, and Jack said he’d see me on Thursday. Again, Ella took my hand and led me through the door. This handholding didn’t seem to be any more meaningful for her than saying, “Here we are.” She said that she was pretty sure we would start the class with tai-chi, as if I knew what that was. She read my questioning look and added, “It’s the gentlest of the martial arts, you’ll like it.”

Again, I was sure I was in another world and told myself to relax, dummy. And again, Ella was right; I did like it. It took me about fifteen minutes to relax, and then I started to enjoy moving my body like the rest of the class. There were about forty students, fifth and sixth graders, Ella told me. She also mentioned that switching to a more energetic martial art, aikido, would require us to change into gym clothes. And again, I’d have to go shopping with somebody else’s money. I hated being a beggar. This class lasted an hour and a half and will meet again on Thursday. I wasn’t sure what we did on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Ella led me back to the fifth-grade classroom where we would have English writing and speech. The new fifth grader in the other cohort and I were the only ones who did not have a written 200-word article or essay describing our experience meeting with, and talking to, a senior man or woman whom we had never met before.

Izzy Cassidy told me and the other ‘newbie’ that Izzy was short for Isidore, just like Danny was for Daniel. I didn’t tell him my name was never Daniel. A teacher named Izzy was so damn strange. This place never stops being strange. It took the entire class half a period to read and discuss the essays. They were good, and Izzy asked us to discuss our reactions to each of them – especially how well we thought we got to know both the writers, that is, the interviewers, and the persons interviewed. I was surprised that each of us had different ideas about each one. Boys were more interested in the students' and elders' activities and where they lived, whereas most of the girls were interested in their clothing and feelings. In any writing class in Mississippi, the teacher would return our assignments with numerous red corrections, highlighting mistakes in spelling, punctuation, and other areas. I learned more this way and got to know my classmates better. If we had read something someone else had written or said and then laughed at something we found funny, we would have faced serious trouble.

Here, no one laughed at the writer, but at what was written about. Izzy asked us to watch a TV show and write a half-page critique of it. I had to ask Ella what a critique was. She explained it to me and then said she’d see me in the morning. I then went to have my meeting with Sam.

19.

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter Three

DANNY

Wow! What a wonderful welcome from this bunch. When I first looked around at all these colorful faces and strangely dressed fifth graders, some of the girls, even two of the boys, wore shorts and T-shirts. I must admit, I was shocked. And I don’t know if there are this many races in my home county and the surrounding area. And getting hugged by a Hispanic fat guy! I never dreamed of such a thing.

I needed to go pee, so I followed Chris to the restroom. Uh, oh, another shock - maybe we were in the wrong room. There are girls all over the place, and guys, too. What the hell is going on? There are urinals and stalls, so I guess it is for both. I slowly went over to the row of urinals and unzipped my jeans, but I was too uptight even to pee. I stood there long enough, but just couldn’t go. I finally gave up and went back to the room.

Sam said, “Okay, now that we all know a little more about one another, tell us how you’ve grown in age, and grace, and giftedness since I saw you in May. Who wants to go first?”

Joe raised his hand, “I was delivering flyers around town one day, and I went into the rich part of town; ya know, that’s where all the mansions are. Well, I got my ass kicked.” He looked around to make sure we were all listening and went on, “These three guys, one about my size and two a year or so older and bigger, grabbed my bag of flyers and started throwing them around, all over the place. One guy yelled, ‘Let the wind deliver them for you, dummy.’ I started to pick them up, and another guy kicked me in the butt, and another one pushed me down and kicked me in the ribs, and said, ‘Now go and do your cluttering in your neighborhood? And why don’t you go back to where you belong and stay there?’ He was as black as I, too, so I think he meant that boys don’t have to work to make spending money. I know we’d never be able to own one of those swanky houses. So, I learned that we have a long way to go before we have a more equal world to live in. And I’m glad that I learned not to fight back but just to be patient and peaceful.”

“Ya got that right, man.” Came from Gordo Torres. I thought about telling the group that we had that kind of thing happening almost every day back in good ol’ Miss, but I didn’t. Maria asked Joe if any of the boys were from our school, and he answered that he didn’t think so.

Olivia sang, “I live in that part of town, and I hope no one in my family would do that to you, or anyone else. Oh, and I think we got a flyer on our porch that day. Was it on the last Thursday in July? And was it for a sale at Walmart?” Joe nodded, and Olivia said that she had probably run into those mean-spirited guys.

11.

Sam said, “Joe, I hope that experience doesn’t sour you on all people who are wealthier than you. I lived in a poorer area in Enid, Oklahoma, and there were some folks like that there. I had to fight with myself not to hate all of them because of the meanness of a few.”  

Maria Sanchez spoke up, “I had a more wonderful experience this summer. We, my family, and I, went to Guadalajara, Mexico, on that new super-fast train to visit my dad’s family. First, we took our fast train to Tucson, Arizona, and then changed trains, and in only six hours, we were in Guadalajara. And Dad’s family was friendly. That city is humongous, and I loved being around all those people who spoke Spanish all the time. I’m now proud to say I’m Mexican.”

I was amazed to hear all of my new classmates talk about themselves and their families and, well, their lives. For the first time, I realized that I didn’t know anything at all about my classmates in Mississippi. In just over an hour, I’ve gotten to know these 10 people better than I did any ten people in Mississippi. There was no order to who or when anyone talked; it was kinda like a big family dinner table I saw on TV, where people shared when there was an opening. They tried to be polite and not interrupt, but sometimes they would talk over each other. In my family, we kids didn't speak at all, except when Dad asked us a question. We were cautious about what we said, hoping he would like to hear it.

Chris started to say that he began to realize that he knew more about building a house than some of the grown-up men did, and Gordo immediately interrupted him, “Just like yer smarter than anyone in this room, huh?” Chris ignored him and went on to say that he sometimes had to be careful how he said something and not hurt an older person’s feelings. Sam thanked Chris for sharing his experience and reminded us that each of us is gifted and challenged in unique ways. Olivia added in her sing-songy way, “I, I, hope none of you are challenged like me.”

I could not think of a single time I heard anyone, teacher, or student, tell me, or anybody else, how smart or gifted someone was - ever. Back in Mississippi, I had often been asked to do some challenging things that other kids weren’t, and I guessed I had some giftedness, but I wasn’t sure. I knew that Kenny Singleton never made it past the second word in our girls versus boys spelling bees and stuff like that, so being smarter than Kenny was no big deal. Then I wondered if this school had spelling bees. Several times I had been the only boy still standing at the end of the contest with four or five girls still standing.  I was two years older than some of these guys and gals in this group, so I’m sure I’m not smart. Gordo interrupted my musings, “Well, my big brother last year, found me a job in his family’s bakery and I started working there July first. I’m making donuts and slicing bread and lots of neat stuff. And they treat me like one of the family. And they are going to keep me on part time, now that schools have started. I really like it. And now I can help with the grocery bill.” Joe added, “Now, Gordo, don’t go eating up all your profits.” Several others moaned.

12.

Evie started talking and immediately began to cry as she said through her tears, “I, uh, I’m glad that you all have been having some good news to tell us. I’m not growing in any way good because my Dad and Mom are talking about getting a divorce, and I’m not sure why. Mom says that Dad is cheating on her, and Dad says he only saw another woman once and he did something sinful with her, but he still loves my Mom and…” She began sobbing uncontrollably, and Maria nudged Gordo to change seats. She put her arms around Evie, and Evie leaned into her. Ella quietly went across the circle and knelt in front of Evie and put her hands, arms, and head on Evie’s lap. All the girls were crying, and my lord, so were Gordo, Chris, and Joe. I felt sorry for Evie, but I couldn’t cry because I would be so glad if my mom would leave my idiot dad, and crying in front of all these students would just be too embarrassing.

 

I sat there stunned, I had never seen anything like this and couldn’t imagine it ever happening in school – ever. Sam kept silent as well, and when Evie stopped crying, he softly said, “I want to remind you all that everything that anyone shares in this room is confidential and cannot be shared with anyone outside our cohort.” He then added, “And Danny, I did forget to tell you that, didn’t I?”

I nodded and whispered, “No, but I understand.” Both Mom and Dad had often said that about personal family stuff.  After a while, Evie patted Ella on the head, nudged Maria, and said, “Thank you, and thank everybody for your understanding.” She shyly smiled and added, “I’ll, uh, let you know how we’re doing in my family. Now, please, will somebody take the spotlight away from me?”

I had learned a lot this summer, but I didn’t want to share any of it with anyone here in school. Sam stood up and announced that it was time to end this cohort session and added, “I am very pleased to see how wonderfully open and compassionate you all are, and Danny, how are you? I’m guessing you’ve never had a class like this in Mississippi.”

“No, I haven’t, but I think I’m going to like it because I already like all of you. Thanks.”

Sam came over to me and said, “I’ll see you at 3:30.” He patted me on the shoulder and went over to where Evie was sitting. 

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter Two

ELLA

I looked back to make sure my new lunkhead student was following me into the classroom. He was. I saw Sam talking with Olivia about something, and I wanted to go over and stomp on his foot for saddling me with this jerk from Mississippi.

When we moved here from St. Louis two years ago, I was mocked a little for my funny accent, but it was nothing compared to Danny’s. One guy mimicked me by saying, “Harses eat carn in the marning.” My Dad said that St. Louisites always pronounced ‘o’s before ‘r’s like they were ‘a’s. However, I suppose Mississippians spoke a distinctly different dialect. I bet if Danny went to one of the old-fashioned regular schools, he’d be razzed to death.

I’m looking forward to seeing how he gets along with our cohort.

Sam saw us and yelled, “Hey, Ella, bring our new guy over here.”

Danny seemed so squeamish about me touching him, so I just nodded in Sam’s direction, and we went to meet him. Danny whispered, “You call your teacher by his first name?” I nodded and he whispered back, “Weird.” Of course, I was my most polite self as I introduced Danny to Olivia and Sam. Sam shook Danny’s hand, and Olivia smiled, then waved her hand shakily. I would tell Danny about her palsy later.

Sam stood and took Danny’s right hand in both of his and said, “Welcome to our cohort, Danny. And thank you, Ella, for escorting Danny to our room. So, Danny, how’d you like the beginning of our day with the songs and dancing? 

Just like, uh,“ I guess he forgot for a minute where Danny was from and then went on, “Oh yeah, Mississippi, huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, like Mississippi in a pig’s eye. Back there, they almost handcuffed us and dragged us into rooms.” Despite the drawl, I was surprised at Danny’s articulation. I got the impression that he was already getting used to the easy and folksy way everyone acted and talked at our school. Danny continued, “Do ya’ll start every day like that?”

“Yes, if possible. Do you play a musical instrument?” Sam, sitting back down, looked up at Danny from his seated position. 

“Yeah, a guitar, chords. Ah, but not in public – ever.” He looked like he was ashamed of himself for saying he only played chords. Sam said, “Well, you’ll get to know your fellow fifth-grade musicians soon. Your lovely escort, Ella, plays the guitar too.” Danny looked puzzled as he glanced over at me, like it was strange that I could play the guitar. Sam told him, “Find yourself a seat – ah, Ella is looking at us and patting the chair next to her. Go sit by her, she’s a great gal.”

 

7.

Danny headed over and sat down next to me and said, “Are ya sure he’s our teacher? He sounds more like my Uncle Charlie or our next-door neighbor. He even called you a ‘great gal’. Now that’s weird.”

“That I’m a great girl, or that he talks like a person?” He leaned back, smiled, laughed, and said, “Both.” I looked around and every seat was now taken. I whispered to Danny, “Sam will ask everyone to introduce themselves to you, so relax and smile, okay?” He nodded.

Sam shouted, “Okay, all you people, welcome back to our wonderful cohort. I know all but one of you from last year, but I’m new as your cohort facilitator. And, we have a new member who, I guess, is replacing the irreplaceable Steve Patter.” He pointed toward us and said, “Welcome, Danny White.” Everyone yelled, “Welcome, Danny.” And clapped. Sam continued, “Now, each of you introduce yourselves to Danny, and Danny, we’ll wait to hear from you after everyone else gets to tell us who they are now, after they’ve been born again over the summer.

“Let’s start with you, Olivia.” Olivia was an original member and had cerebral palsy. She had never let it stop her from sharing her thoughts and feelings. She had learned that the best way to ‘talk’ was to sing her words in a sing-songy kind of way. She began, using the tune from the "Do-Re-Me" song in The Sound of Music. “Well, I’m Olivia, and I became a singing teacher who teaches CP kids how to talk to you. I attended the University of San Diego, and I loved it. Now I am somebody.” She puffed out her chest, and everyone clapped. She sang, “And now I give you thanks.”

I’m sure I would never be as cheerful as she is if I had cerebral palsy. She shakily moved a hand toward the boy next to her.

Joe Jackson was a skinny African American guy who was much darker than I and didn’t have an ounce of shyness in him. “Well, I’m Joe, and, guys and gals, I am now a professional weed puller, trash man, and carpenter’s helper who builds dog houses. Oh, and I sang Ol’ Man River in a summer play at the Parks and Rec. summer playhouse. So, I’m now a professional singer!”

We clapped and laughed. I wonder if Sam thought of sending Joe after Danny.

Sam said, “Now, we’ll go around the circle and to our right. So, Ella, tell us about you.” I took a deep breath, “I am now a certified infant caregiver. My mother’s sister gave birth to a baby boy in June.” Immediately, everyone clapped and yelled, “Hallelujah.” And everyone waved their hands as if they were at a Black church meeting, and I noticed Danny looked like he was in a zoo. “And…the new Mom hired me to be the baby’s nanny. I started in July.” They clapped again. “I like being a nanny, but I’m also glad I get to go home every night, too. Now my aunt must hire somebody else to be the nanny, but I’ll continue when I can.”

8.

I turned to Debbie Ma, the only Asian American in our group and one of the five ‘originals’.

“I’m Debbie, and I’m happy to be back with you all, and I’m now able to be a mommy. I began having my period last month!” Everyone clapped and yelled “Huzzah”. “And I do not plan to be a mommy for at least ten years, and this preparation period is going to be a pain.” We all laughed. Joe chuckled and said, “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to see you having a baby that would make your role the same as your last name.” More laughter. I’m sure that when I begin having periods, I won’t be as open about it as Debbie, and I admire her courage. My mom said I’d probably be having my period any day now. I was pretty sure I’d keep it to myself – and mom, of course.

Sam asked Debbie, “Debbie, did Joe’s comment about your last name bother you?” She shook her head and said ‘no’. Dave was on Debbie’s right and was probably the shyest one in the cohort. I was surprised when he began with, “Wow, Debbie, you’re a hard act to follow. I’m pretty sure I’m not even close to being ready to be a papa.  Oh, and Danny, I’m Dave. And back to babies, I’ve only changed my nephew’s diaper once, and he peed all over me. And that was this summer, so I think that helped me be born again – the baby’s name was Jeff, so King Jeff christened me like the queen christens a ship with a bottle of champagne. Uh, I’d rather have champagne than pee for my christening.” He earned a round of applause.

Sitting next to Dave is Maria, who is Latin American and nearly as shy as Dave. “Danny, I’m Maria, and I continue to be a professional mommy for my two sibling brats. I use ‘brats’ lightly because they are adorable, but they are kids, and they are not mean or cruel at all. I must admit that I get along better with my little brother than I do with my little sister. Anyway, my mom does appreciate me, so my ‘profession’ is good. So, you guys will help me have a vacation from them, right?” We laughed and clapped. I wondered if Danny had any siblings, and if they were younger, I bet his Mom rarely asked him to be their babysitter. Gender discrimination isn’t done yet.

Gordo, our biggest member, and one who could even laugh at his nickname, ‘Gordo’. He was a co-teacher of Spanish and called us ‘mono-lingual idiots’, as he would laugh at our struggling attempts at speaking Spanish. “Well, believe it or not, I am now officially a Spanish instructor.” He looked around at all of us and continued, “And you all have helped me to become a teacher. I am officially an assistant at the summer program for high-school students right here in this building.” We all shouted “Wonderful!!”

I looked across the circle at Evie; she and Olivia were the only light-complected girls in our cohort. And she was also the most developed physically. I thought she was astute and poised, but she didn't act superior at all, and I liked her. “Well, as you all know, I hope to

9.

I became an actor and got a start this summer. Like Joe, I was in a play this summer. I was the younger sister of one of the main characters. I was a smart-alecky brat and had about ten words to say. So, I’m an actress.” She looked down her nose at us, and everyone but Danny laughed. He just looked confused.

 

Chris was the last one to share before Sam and Danny. Chris was as white as Danny, and I thought he was handsome. He was also smart, athletic, and kind. If I were ready for a boyfriend, I’d choose him. “Good morning, Danny, and you all. I’m glad to be back in school with you. My Dad worked my butt off this summer. You’d think I was forty years old because he had me do things only an old man could do. So, I guess I’m now a professional old carpenter’s helper. We built an entire house in three months, and I was Dad’s only full-time helper.” We all clapped, and I think I blushed as if I were already his girlfriend. Chris turned to Sam, “Now, old man, tell us how you were born again.”

“Okay. I enrolled in a six-week program on how to reach a bunch of smart-alecky fifth graders.” We all groaned. “And I gave a talk at a teachers’ conference on how to bring the very best out of wonderful boys and girls who love me and want to grow up to be outstanding people!” We all yelled, ‘Hoo–rah!’ “And most important, I am now the proud papa of a baby girl!” That brought on a double Hoo–rah, and clapping. “And like Dave’s experience, I’ve been ‘christened’ dozens of times already. So now, Danny, tell us about yourself and start with what you now think of your cohort buddies.”

I was anxious to hear what he was going to say. In his deep southern drawl, he began, “Well, first ya’ll talk funny, unlike me.” He mimicked Evie and looked down his nose at us, and we all jeered. He went on, “First, I’d just like you to know that, so ya’ll would know that I’m aware of my Mississippi accent. Up until a month or so ago, I’ve lived my entire life near Oxford, Mississippi – the home of Ol’ Miss – the only state that has four ‘I’s and four' Ss in its spelling. Now, ya’ll, that’s something to brag about, huh?”

We groaned, and he grinned. “Because, unlike Ella, my Mom and Dad do not have doctorates. I don’t think my mom ever graduated from high school, and my dad probably graduated from a school in hell.”

He looked over at Sam, seemingly waiting to be scolded, but Sam just sat there and frowned. Danny went on a bit more hesitantly, but I thought bravely. He was sooo different from what I first thought. “In Mississippi, we gotta pay to go to kindergarten, but I didn’t go. It isn’t a public school there. For four years, I sat in a straight row of desks. I mean big desks, not this kind of one-arm chair. I was told to sit still, keep quiet, pay attention, and do as I was told. Period. My teachers would have fainted if they had heard the way you all talked. And, Debbie, you would have been expelled from school for mentioning that you had started your menstrual cycle. Oh, my god, they were sure that you were full of the devil himself.”

We all laughed, and I’m thinking that Danny was either putting on an act when I first met him or he’s acting now. Anyway, I’m liking him better. He went on, “I think the devil is always male. And girls are angels, of course.” We laughed harder, and I am amazed at his speaking ability and poise. I thought he’d stumble all over himself and be tongue-tied. He is amazing! “So, please be patient with me, I’ve never been with a bunch of openly bratty people my age before.” We all gave him a standing ovation.

10.

Sam stood up and added, “Wow, Danny, that was a great introduction. Welcome to our cohort. Oh, and have you been taking lessons from Joe Jackson here? We’ll take a restroom break and grab a snack or whatever, and we’ll get back together in five minutes.” He paused and said, “Ella and Danny, would you please stay a minute?” Chris, Evie, and Gordo almost ran across the circle and shook Danny’s hand, and Gordo even gave him a bear hug. Danny grinned from ear to ear. I’m sure he felt welcome, and my reservations about him vanished. I felt proud to have been his escort.

Danny and I went to meet with Sam. Sam said, “Danny, would you mind if Ella kind of acted as your guide for the week?” Before I could say anything, Danny said, “Okay, I guess, if it’s okay with her.” I told him it was okay with me, but I wasn't sure why. He looked at me, and I smiled. Sam told Danny that he would see him at 3:30 this afternoon. 

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter One

Tuesday, September 4th, 2044 CE

DANNY

I’m standin’ round gawkin’ at a bunch of folks – there must be about 200 or more of them, and they’re a hodge-podge of races, from White to Black, and everywhere in between. They are of all ages – from toddlers to my grandparents – if I had grandmas and grandpas. I’ve no idea why they are all mixed up and standin’ round, Whites jabberin' with Blacks as if there’s no difference, and are letting the kids just run around and doin' whatever they want. This is supposed to be a school, at least I was told it was. "What the hell is going on?"

I’m in the fifth grade, and I just moved to California from Mississippi. Well . . . I didn’t just move. About three weeks ago, I ran away from home and hitched a ride to California.  After nearly starvin’ to death, I found an old building near the beach that took in homeless people. It had about two dozen beds, and it looked like it needed a cleaning person. I saw an old lady at a desk, and I lied and said, “I lost my mom, dad, and sister because they were killd' in a car accident back in Mississippi. And I am wonderin’ if I could help with the cleanin’ around here and maybe get a bed and some food.”

She said, “Mississippi, huh? You sure do sound like you’re from somewhere in the South, and, of course, we do need some help. And for that, we can find you a bed and some food.” She was not just kind; she went into action and found a nice old man who told me to follow him as he pushed a walker toward the dining area. He asked me my name, “Danny White,” I said. The ‘Danny’ was true, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone my real last name. 

I stayed there for about two weeks and really liked it. I was the only single kid there–and that was okay too, because I wasn’t ready to mix with nosy other kids. The old people minded their own business. After a while, a woman came to the shelter and wanted to see me. Her name is Claire Danley, and she has a nice smile. She said she was a social worker in San Diego County and kept track of homeless people, especially children. She stated that she could not locate a missing child named Daniel White anywhere in the United States. I told her my name was Danny, not Daniel. She said she had also looked for that name, but she did find a Danny Sherman-Lee, a missing boy who lived in Flowers, Mississippi. She asked me if I could possibly be that boy?” I wondered who reported me to the county, but I was sure no one would tell me. Old people never tell kids anything. They think all kids are stupid.

Anyway, I shook my head, and she said, “Well, whoever and wherever that boy is, I’m guessing he had a good reason to run away. I called that family, and the dad, Robert E. Lee, can you believe it?”

I could because that was the name of the old bastard who called himself my dad.

She went on, He said, “Well, we do have a boy named Danny, and if you find that little shit, you beat the tar out of him and I’ll fly out there to the coast and I’ll bring him back home where he belongs.” And then, he added, ‘By God, I’ll take care of him in more ways than one.’”

Now, Danny, you do have quite a drawl, and you are the same age as that boy in Mississippi. So, please tell me your correct name.

2.

“What’ll happen to me if I’m that guy? Will you tell that angry bastard I’m here?” I was shaking, and I’m sure Ms. Claire noticed. She seemed very nice, and I knew that sooner or later I’d have to come clean to someone, sometime, if I was ever going to find help for my mom and sisters. I’ve got to tell somebody, so I decided to take my chances with this kind lady.

She put her fist under her chin and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” I took a deep breath and then listened and answered her questions about my life here at the shelter. I told her that I was really worried about my mom and two little sisters. A few days later, she returned to tell me that the county would take care of me for now. She had talked with a social worker in Mississippi and was told that my dad was a deputy sheriff in one of the poorest counties in the state and that my dad had been reported as an abusive parent, but there was nothing they could do because of his position there.  I told her that, of course, I already knew that, and if I ever went back there, he would probably literally beat me to death. I added, " Ma’am, I know for a fact that he is a killer, because he’s killed a bunch of people in what he calls the ‘line of duty’ when really, they just bothered him, and he just hated their guts.” 

She then said she believed it was better if I remained in California. There was one warning she had to give me, and that was if I ever got caught breaking the law or hurting anyone, I would be sent back to Mississippi. In other words, I needed to keep my nose clean. She also said that she would see what could be done for Mom and my sisters.

And she added, “I’ve found a very good foster family in the county, in a nearby town named Monte Vista. I’ve known the family for years and I really like them. They have two young girls, ages 5 and 8, and their biggest concern is the safety of the girls. They are worried that you might hurt one or both when you get angry. I called the Mississippi social worker back, and she said that you had two younger siblings and had been hurt protecting them from your father, is that right?”

Damned if I didn’t get a face full of tears when I thought of Jacque and Susan, who were just about the same age as the girls in this foster home. Clair put her hand over mine, and I quickly pulled it away. She probably thinks I’m a baby. I said, “They are the reason I didn’t run away sooner, but I began to think that there was nothin’ I could do, so, well, I finally decided to get outta that hell hole before that bastard killed me.” I looked up at the social worker and waited for her to scold me for being angry and using bad language . . . Adults always sided with other adults.

3.

Claire surprised me, “I believe you did the right thing. I find myself worrying about you and your younger sisters, too.” She added, “I’ll ask the social worker there to see if they can do something. It sounds like your dad is a very dangerous man. So, I’ll need to be very discreet.”

I wasn’t sure what discrete meant, but I guessed it meant she was going to be careful.

While I was thinking about all this, I was lookin’ round the big playground as dozens of people kept coming in. Last week I was really impressed with these modern one-story buildings with windows all over the place – in every room one wall was all windows that went from near the floor to the ceiling and looked out at a flower garden and other similar buildings, and the other walls were painted in kind of a peach and cream color. And the front yard was full of flowers, as were the areas around the walks and the playgrounds. I liked it because it seemed open, colorful, nice, and, well, this sounds corny, it seemed like a warm kind of place.

It made my old brick and concrete school in Mississippi look like a prison.  My Mississippi school would fit in better with the neighborhood here, given its proximity to all the warehouses and empty buildings. This school building was like an oasis in this neighborhood. This morning, the school still looks warm, but it also looks chaotic with all these people hanging around, smiling, talking, and laughing.

A girl comes over to me. She is very pretty and is as tall as me, has a nice smile, and she’s dark-skinned. She holds out her right hand to me to shake. I’ve never in my life taken the hand of a dark-skinned person. What if she’s Black? I put my free hand in my pocket.

My other hand held my computer bag full of stuff. Still holding out her hand, she says, “I’m Ella Haloran, and I’m guessing you must be Daniel White. Is that right? And you’re scared of shaking the hand of a girl?” 

 “Yeah, but my name is not Daniel, it’s Danny. And I’m not afraid of girls,” I didn’t add, ‘But a Black girl? That’s something else again.’ I learned at the beach homeless shelter that you never should call a nigger, a nigger, but call him or her black.’ I said to the girl, “Why are ya lookin' fer me?” I’m sure I sounded kinda snotty, but I really had no idea why this girl, about my size and age, knew my name and all. I guess I’m more prejudiced than I thought, and now I’m getting tested. I just now realized I’d never been really close to dark-skinned people before in my life, even in that little town.

When I said I was not a racist, I was being a phony. When I was about five, my mom hired a black lady to help her when she was sick, and she was sick a lot. Especially after dad beat the hell outta her, she wasn’t really sick, she was wounded and recovering from the beatings, but she dared not tell anyone or dad would just beat her more and maybe even get fired from his job. Anyway, Mom told the black lady that she couldn’t bring her five-year-old boy to work because I shouldn’t play with black kids. I only met him once, but I really liked him. This girl, Ella, kept looking at me, and I asked her again why she was looking for me.

4.

She said, “Sam, our Tator, asked me to find you and help you get acquainted with our school. And you looked like you were a bit lost and were wondering what all these people were doing standing around in the school yard, so I came over to see if you were our new classmate.”  She spoke much faster than the students in my old school in Mississippi. She went on to say that the Tator, whatever in hell that is, probably asked her to find me because she had been new to the school two years ago. She ended her little speech with, “Are you as unfriendly as you sound?” She giggled a little and smiled.  

Didn’t that Tator guy know that I’m not Black like her? She talks like everybody else around here, not like a Black person. Reluctantly, I said, “I’m sorry for sounding so stupid. I’m not really unfriendly most of the time, but yeah, I do wonder what's going on. And what is a Tator?” Her smile helped me relax, and I hoped my smile would help her, too.

“Tator is short for facilitator, our personal coach and ‘sort of' teacher in our Human Development class. You and I are in the same class. We call our group our cohort. Our cohort has been together since first grade. There are ten of us – counting you – plus the Tator, Sam. Five of our fellow students have been in our cohort since first grade; two joined us in second grade, I joined in the third, and Joe Jackson joined us last year, and now you, which makes ten. So, welcome.” She put her hand out again, and I took her hand like it was a hot potato just out of the fire.

Suddenly, I was jolted nearly off my feet when a bunch of bells, like musical church bells, rang out through the loudspeaker, followed by a pleasant young female voice, “Good morning, fellow dreamers, and welcome back to school for the Fall semester. It’s time to get with the music presented by the Ragamuffins of the tenth grade. Their song is 'Getting to Know You,' from Rogers and Hammerstein, from earlier in the last century. Now, get with it.” 

Ella grabbed my hand and nearly dragged me over to the middle of the pack of people. My lord, here I am being led around the playground by a Black girl. What will people think? I thought about my dad and if he knew about this school, he’d probably bring his assault rifle and start killing all these heathen devils.

That thought almost made me like this school and all its craziness. I guess I gotta’ get my head on in a different way. I nearly fell over a little girl as the music blasted around us. I was so confused that I didn’t immediately realize Ella was holding the little girl’s hand and was reaching out to take mine. Ella shouted, “This is my little sister, Angie.” Ella nodded toward the woman holding Angie’s other hand and shouted, “And this is Jan, our mom, and this is my Grandpa Earnie Haloren, holding mom’s other hand.” The old Black man smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. God, I’m such an idiot or something completely stupid. It looked like everybody knew the song.

5.

And they were singing and bowing toward each other while still holding hands. Two hundred or more people dancing around and singing ‘Getting to know you.’ It seemed crazy and, well, kind of fun too, I had to admit. As my idiot dad would say, “I felt as awkward as a whore in church.”

We danced and sang several other songs. I later learned that some of the students at this school wrote them. They were fast and joyful, and I almost let go and enjoyed dancing to them. And I couldn’t help but wonder when the hammer was going to fall, and I would start hating school like I always did.

After the crazy songs and dancing, Ella again introduced me to her mom and sister. Her mom started walking her kindergarten sister. Angie went to her room and then left for her office. She is a pediatric dentist, a job Ella said she loved, but Ella said she’d hate it. Ella said her dad sometimes came to the morning dancing and singing, but he had to be at the UCSD faculty meeting. I thought it was weird that this black girl had both parents who were doctors. 

Wow!

I was surprised that after all the crazy dancing, all the students rather quietly and politely strolled into their respective buildings. Ella leads me down a long hall in one of the five classroom buildings. Thank God she let go of my hand as soon as we reached our building. We entered a small classroom where the one-armed, chair-like desks were arranged in a circle, and the single window looked out onto a flower garden. The windows must be one-way mirrors, because we could look out, but we could not see into other classrooms.

There were six students already sitting around our room – four girls and two boys. A kinda Mexican-looking grown man in a short-sleeved blue shirt was sitting near a whiteboard and talking to a girl in a wheelchair. She was as white as me, and I was beginning to realize that most, if not all, people in this school didn’t give a shit about what people, big and little, looked like; they were all just plain ol’ people.