Stones in the Road

Chapter 6: A Lifestyle Has Consequences

“And you’re Mr. Wiley’s…friend?” Miss Thelma Thunderburk paused to look Jackson over, her generous lips pursed, her eyes small and hard. On the wall behind her were a variety of diplomas and awards and whatnot. Her walnut desk was smoothly polished and was mostly used as a showcase for pictures of her children and husband. Also featured rather prominently was a cross on a stand.

“We’re a little bit more than friends,” Jackson said pointedly. “We’re engaged to be married.”

Miss Thelma chuckled. Abruptly stopped. “I shouldn’t laugh. You’re probably serious. Bless your heart.”

“You think it’s funny that two men want to get married?” Jackson asked rather angrily.

“I think it’s highly unnatural. That’s what I think. Perhaps people do that sort of thing where you’re from, Mr. Jackson, but you in the South now, baby. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

“Boy, am I ever.”

“Well, since Mr. Wiley brought you along, I may as well get to the point. Noah’s not doing well. In fact, we’ve decided to hold him back. He’s going to have to repeat the fifth grade.”

“You can’t do that!” I tried not to sound like an outraged parent. “All his friends are going to pass. He’ll be left behind.”

“He is simply not doing satisfactory work, Mr. Wiley. The boy reads on a second grade level. And just barely, at that. I believe we’ve made it clear that he needs a great deal of work in this area, but you don’t seem to have—”

“He’s been working really hard,” I said.

“We hired a tutor,” Jackson pointed out.

“He’s trying his best,” I added.

“We work with him every night!” Jackson exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, but he’s way behind the others now. His reading skills are minimal. His math? Not much better, to be honest. And I know he tries, but he’s…I know you don’t want to hear about it, but the boy has learning disabilities.”

“There’s nothing wrong with his brain,” I said. “Just because he has an extra pinky doesn’t mean—”

“He’s a meth baby, Mr. Wiley. We all know that. Sometimes these children do well. But sometimes…well, sometimes they just never really catch up with their peers. And as I’ve suggested to you before, he might do better in a different environment.”

“I’m not sending him to the Jackson School for the Deaf,” I said firmly.

“That is your choice, Mr. Wiley. It may be that Noah needs more help than we can give him here. You may also want to consider homeschooling.”

“Absolutely not,” I said.

She shrugged as if to say the matter was on my own head.

“He can make up some ground in summer school,” Jackson suggested.

Mrs. Thunderburk merely shook her head.

We regarded each other in silence for long moments.

She went on.

“I read this,” she said, pausing to open a drawer in her desk and produce a copy of Crack Baby, which she laid on the table between us. Her lips drew down into something resembling a scowl. She looked down at the book as though looking upon something so dreadful that a decent person could only shudder and think there but for the grace of God…

Jackson lowered his eyes, embarrassed.

Crack Baby was a personal account of how I had raised Noah, a meth baby with birth defects who was also deaf. There was some humor in it, of course. How could there not be when you were writing about a homosexual in the heart of the Bible Belt raising a baby after the baby’s mother ran off? I wrote very frankly about the bigotry I had experienced and succeeded in pissing a lot of people off, especially those who came across in a rather unflattering light. People like my brother, Bill.

“As the assistant principal of this school,” Mrs. Thunderburk said, “and as someone who has taught for many years, and as a mother and a Christian woman, I must say I was surprised by some of the things you said in this book, Mr. Wiley.”

I said nothing.

“What’s not surprising is that Noah would be having trouble in school, given the environment he’s being raised in.”

“Excuse me?” Jackson said

“The kids make fun of him,” Mrs. Thunderburk said.

“Then put a stop to it,” Jackson said.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Your lifestyle has consequences, and I can’t shield your child from those consequences.”

“So the other kids bully him and you’re not going to do anything because his parents are gay and—what?—he deserves it?”

“I can’t shield him from the choices his father makes,” she said. “Has it occurred to you that he may not be very happy with those choices, that his failing grades might be an indication of his unhappiness, his…confusion…at the environment in which he is forced to live? Children don’t learn very well when they live in unhappy situations. And that’s a fact.”

“So he’s failing because I’m a queer?” I said.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Not every child has a mother and a father,” Jackson said.

“And that’s a shame.”

“This is very unprofessional,” Jackson said. “Your religious beliefs have nothing to do with our son’s education. In fact, we’d prefer you kept your religious beliefs to yourself since they have no place in a public institution.”

“This country was founded on Christian principles,” she countered. “Ever since we kicked God out of our schools, we’ve had nothing but trouble. Children have become more and more confused as society grows more and more permissive. It’s not at all a good environment for children.”

“Neither is bigotry,” Jackson said.

“I’m afraid we’re getting off the subject. Noah is a good student, but he’s troubled. He’s insecure, emotionally immature. He’s almost twelve, but he still has separation anxiety. Some of that is because of the circumstances of his birth, of course, but not all of it. He tries to make friends, but he doesn’t know how. Your situation makes that harder for him—there are more than a few parents who don’t want their children becoming friends with someone like him. He can’t keep up with his schoolwork. If we gave him a second grade reading test, I’m not sure he would pass. Frankly speaking, there are limits to how much we can help him at a school like this. On the other hand, if you were to send him down to Jackson—”

“I’m not sending him to the School for the Deaf.”

“It would be very beneficial.”

“I’m not sending him away!”

“Given the environment at home, that may not be such a bad thing.”

“What environment?” I demanded.

“I can’t help but feel he would do better in a more traditional environment. I realize you have tried your best—”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Please don’t use profanity in this office, Mr. Wiley. I do not at all appreciate it.”

“This is outrageous,” Jackson said. “I’ve heard enough.”

He stood, looked at me.

“You may want to consider enrolling Noah in some other program,” Mrs. Thunderburk said, also standing and making it clear our “consultation” was over—and she had also just delivered the whole point of the conversation. “I do hope you will find something appropriate.”

“You can’t kick my child out of this school,” I said angrily.

“It’s clear that we’re not meeting his needs,” she answered smoothly. “You might have better luck—”

“I might have better luck if I talked to the principal and not to you, because you’re clearly not interested in helping him.”

She pursed her lips, unconsciously looking down at my book, which lay on the table between us. “If you feel that would help,” she said.

“Yeah, I think it would,” I replied. “My son is never going to be a rocket scientist, but he’s not stupid, and he has a right to an education just like every other child in this state, and you are legally obligated to provide one whether you approve of his parents or not.”

“I assure you this has nothing to do with your lifestyle, Mr. Wiley. I am merely suggesting he might do better in a different environment. Kids can be rather cruel.”

“So can adults.”