Dear Mr. H,
I would like you to reconsider my pupil, Ryan, for a possible spot as a finalist. I know that last week’s Weekly Progress Pack was not a bearer of the greatest news, but this week Ryan has shown great improvement in both his work ethic and character. He has shown great remorse for his lack of care in his studies and his infantile behavior, and he has greatly improved on his Latin this week as well as his writing. His math is as steady as it has even been, his violin practice is going a long way, and his etiquette lessons are really sinking into his basic behavior.
All of this you can see for yourself though in the WPP. What I wanted to convey to you was what you cannot tell from the WPP. After last week’s slacking of work for playing games with his sister, Ryan has shown repentance in both work and attitude. He has never been so polite and willing to study as he is now! Is it possible that his misbehavior gave him the motivation we seek? He has shown nothing but the affirmative! Therefore I plead for a reconsideration of this fine little man,
Sincerely Yours,
Rachel Livingston
* * *
“I’ve had enough of this talk!” Joseph, my long time friend, told his wife in deep frustration. He was standing in the entryway with the door open and trash bag in hand.
“I’m just trying to do what is best for our children,” his wife, Georgia, said now starting to cry. She was six months pregnant but still barely had a bump on her stomach. She sat there on their couch looking at her husband who had now changed his irate look into a compassionate one.
“Look, I understand why you want to look into this, but please listen to my concerns, it’s a. . .”
I apparently interrupted him as I walked up to the open door of this modest house. His thick and tall body made him look more like a guardian of the door instead of the owner of it. “At first I was afraid something was wrong with the door being wide open in the middle of January, but I wouldn’t expect any less from you Joseph. How are you?” I said patting his wide back.
“Ha ha, fine, just fine Asher,” Joseph said with a big smile, engulfing me with a hug.
“Uncle Ash!” Their two children yelled as they ran from their bedrooms, through the living room, and to the door. I just gave a hardy laugh and let the two kids climb all over me. These two were of a rare breed. The oldest, Nathalie, was seven. She had the signature jet-black hair that her father has, but the fair skin of her mother. Such a natural contrast was hard to find on any person. She was quite pretty though. The younger child, Stephen, was a mere five years old. He was adorned with his mother’s genes, which included fair skin, dirty-red hair, and freckles. He looked like he came straight from Ireland.
“Ha, kids you are about to get too big to treat me like a jungle gym.”
“Oh stop it you two. Joseph, get them to stop, and close that door! You can take the trash out later tonight.” Georgia exclaimed, a little embarrassed, as she walked to the door.
“Oh they’re fine,” Joseph said as he shut the door behind me. Georgia sighed at Joseph in response with a puzzled look on her face.
“Getting prettier everyday, Georgia. Pregnancy may be a pain, but it has always made you glow even brighter,” I said. Joseph really did out-marry himself.
“Well thank you, Asher. You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said winking at me and taking my coat and scarf. Since I was so close to Joseph when they first met in college, I was like a brother to her, to both of them.
“I’ll take that,” I said with a wink back.
“Well are you hungry, Ash?” Joseph just realized that he could now eat his dinner since I finally showed up.
“I am!” yelled Stephen. “Stephen. . .” Nathalie groaned.
“Ha ha, Yes I am hungry. I’m sorry I was late. I always underestimate how long work will take,” I told them in a bashful tone as we moved to the dinner table. One pet peeve of mine is that I hate it when people are late. If you are late, it shows you do not respect the person you are meeting or the time they have given to you.
“It’s quite all right,” Georgia said. “I’m sure you were writing up some great work that will be a classic one day.”
“Ha yeah right. I was meeting with a student about her grades.”
“Well its all the same. You do a great job from what I hear.”
“Let me know who you’ve been talking to!”
“Please, Ash. You’ve always been at the top of your level. You’ll be the Chair before too long,” Joseph said pulling his chair closer to the dinner table.
“Ha, I’m only thirty-two. Give me another twenty years for that.”
“Well you never know,” Georgia, the optimistic, asserted.
“Yes, that’s true, you never know,” I repeated.
We continued to talk aimlessly for the next few minutes as we ate our dinners. I was quite proud of this young couple. They married right out of college, and lived a good three years before they had their first child. He worked at a simple lumber store, and she stayed home. They were not rich, probably lower-middle class, but they worked hard. Their house was cute, but small. I was proud of my two closest friends making a beautiful life for themselves.
As the talk moved back and forth, we began to talk about my work. This is when it came up for the first time. “Speaking of which,” Georgia said, “Given your expertise, what do you think of this Higher Calling Fund?”
Joseph rolled his head and eyes together and plopped his hands onto the table like dead weight. The silverware and the ice in the glasses started to clang, and out of nowhere tension filled the room and hit me in the face like a strong, ice-cold wind. I was guessing that they had talked about this before . . .
“Uuuuh. . . I don’t know much about it, really,” I said beginning to feel the frostbite on my nose and cheeks.
“Good answer,” Joseph said as he looked at me with a look of warning on his face.
“Now wait a minute. It would be smart to hear what a man, who deals with education, thinks about this,” Georgia asserted strongly. You could tell who had the upper-hand in this argument. Joseph remained silent, but sulking. Georgia just kept her eyes on me. “So what do you know about it, Asher?”
“Well I’m an English professor, not an education professor. But I don’t know much about this program. No one knows who started it, but the New York Times said it was a top notch program and I’ve heard nothing to the contrary.”
“Yes. What does this man call himself? It’s some letter. . .”
“Mr. H.” Joseph butted in surprisingly.
“Yes! Mr. H. So no one knows who he is?”
“Nope.” I admitted.
“Mystery. Oooo. . .” Stephen said drawn out, wide-eyed, and shaking his hands. Everyone starts laughing except for Nathalie who thought he wasn’t being serious enough.
“You watch to many of those mystery shows, young man,” Georgia said just trying to say something of a reproof.
“Nah,” Stephen grunted as he shoved more chicken into his mouth.
“Anyways,” Georgia said loudly, “What is your personal opinion, Asher?”
“I love mystery shows,” I said smiling at Stephen. Joseph began to laugh, and Nathalie started to giggle. However, Georgia gave me an impatient look.
“Sorry,” I quickly mutter, “It seems like a good program. It helps unfortunate families give their children top-notch education, and gives them a chance to achieve their full potential. What’s not good about that?”
“See!” Georgia spoke towards Joseph.
“I’m not doubting that. I just feel like it’s fishy if you don’t know who is behind it. It could be the North Koreans for all we know!” Joseph at this point is trying holding back to not get into yet another fight about it.
“That war is over with. It could be a rich movie star!” Georgia said. I felt like I should stop this before it turned into something.
“Well, either way, it seems to be only doing good. I know our National Education Council will keep a very close eye on this,” I said hesitantly. And they did, but I said that as an outsider. In ten years, that would all change.
“I agree,” Georgia said emphatically.
“So what we have is anonymous philanthropist who just wants to spend a lot of his own money to send underprivileged kids he does not even know to top schools in the country so that they can get a strong education. What’s in it for him? That’s all I want to know,” Joseph was no longer trying to avoid the subject. He wanted someone to finally understand his concerns.
“That is true,” I said pointing at Joseph, “It is hard to imagine such a man.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t accept his offer! Every generation needs a Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King! I want my children to have all of the possibilities that anyone else can have, and not be hindered because their parents don’t have money for it!”
The entire table looked at Georgia. She was sitting there, looking down at her stomach, rubbing it; her eyes were wet with tears. “You’re right,” I said, “There is no reason why we have to give up on innocence in this world yet.”
“Yes, we will carefully look into it, honey,” Joseph said with a smile. The kids were didn’t know what to think; Nathalie was began to cry because her mother was. Stephen had his head down like he was just caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
I left that night understanding how serious this Higher Calling Fund could become. This was a man (or woman) who wanted to give people who are in the lower classes of America a serious chance at a future. This was a big deal considering the ever-increasing chasm between the higher and lower classes that was created after the war. The middle class was decimated by Congress’ decision to put the burden of the war on the “working man”, middle class. What once was the pride of America became almost non-existent. The Higher Calling Fund was giving families the opportunity to gain an elite status within a bipolar country; it was very appealing.
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