Something that doesn't go down all that well

You watch as the Dean makes his way to the front of the room, apparently oblivious to the mutterings that come from all sides. Pulling the booklet with Code of Conduct written in bold red letters across the front cover from the breast pocket of his jacket he shows it to the room.

"I'm sure most of you have seen this book before." He says as you open your file folder to take out the copy you had noticed earlier. "This is the information that is sent to the students and their parents each year as part of the Welcome Packet, most of it is pretty standard as you know, but I was surprised to read the section of corporal punishment." As he speaks you flip to the relevant section, starting to read with a sense amusement growing with each word.

"After a good amount of consideration, I have decided that lacking any other clearly defined guidelines that I will enforce the Code of Conduct as it is written." The room is immediately filled with a babble of voices, most of them heated, and you sit back and watch the uproar.

There seem to be at least four factions. A group of older women fronted by the outspoken Miss Swanson seem to be outraged against the Dean's actions largely based on his gender. A second group that includes the shy librarian seen to be opposed to the decision for reasons based on modernistic educational theory.

Several others including Donna Considine, Lorri McKay and some of the younger teachers seem to think the Dean's decision is long overdue. The rest of the teachers, including the other two men, either had no idea what was going on or hid their feelings pretty well,

"Ms. Naylor!" Miss Swanson squawks. "You simply cannot allow a man to mistreat our refined young ladies like that! It's an outrage!"

"Miss Swanson," the Dean speaks before Ms. Naylor can respond. "If the students at the Academy are as refined as you say then this is a moot point. Paddling is only mandated for serious offences: cheating, drinking, sexual misconduct, bullying and repeated lesser offences including insolence and dress code violations. These hardly sound like the things refined young ladies would do."

"I thought you wanted to see these girls learn respect." Donna Considine feigns confusion as she regards Miss Swanson. "Aren't you the one always talking about how much better our students behaved when Mrs. Marshal was here to show them their place?" There are muted chuckles from every corner of the room, apparently this is an oft-heard lament from the spluttering woman, and one that the teachers in the room were sick of hearing.

"But we can't let him paddle the student's like Mrs. Marshal did." A dark-haired bespectacled woman in a Clinton style pant-suit interjects. "I mean the parents won't put up with it, especially after what happened last year..." Her question tails off into an awkward silence and everywhere you look you see the once stridently opinionated faculty pretending that nothing unseemly had happened.

"Actually, Ms. Lawson." the Headmistress steps in to fill the void, "I spent a good amount of time on the phone yesterday speaking with a selection of both parents and alumni, I found a surprising amount of support for the idea. Of course, that's before it's their daughter whose ass is being tanned."

There is a sprinkling of laughter from several of the assembled teachers, and the unease that you had noticed when Ms. Lawson had spoken seems to dissipate. Dean Hawkfeather steps into the hiatus.

"The book specifically calls for all paddling to be witnessed by at least one other adult. It's not like I'm going to take them alone into my office to **** them." With a nod that is as close to a salute as you've seen without actually being one, her returns to his seat, surrendering the floor to Ms. Naylor.

The art teacher, Mrs. Somersby-Walker, who seems loosely allied with Miss Swanson's vocal opposition, stands and raises her clear voice slightly so it is heard by all.

"And who would be witnessing the administration of the paddling?" Before the Dean can say anything, Ms. Naylor speaks up.

"I will be there if this ever becomes necessary." she says firmly, suppressing the potential revolt and holding up her slender hand to stop any debate before it even starts. "As I said before, this is not a matter for debate. If you feel strongly about this issue I advise you to join the committee charged with rewriting the rules that so offend you." There is a muttered buzz of conversation before the meeting resumes.

The meeting continues with much less drama as one after another detail are ticked off the agenda. The headmistress efficiently deals with a series of mundane topics as you let your mind drift, quietly studying the rest of the faculty.

Your attention comes back when you hear a slight edge in Ms. Naylor's tone. "On another note,I've learned that there is a Boston Globe reporter snooping around town trying to dig up some dirt after last year. I want to remind you that if this, Holly Piper wishes to speak with any of you, please refer her to me." A murmur goes through the hall and you glance quickly at Brian Watts, seeing a look of mild alarm cross his face before he covers it with a confused expression.

The next item is some tedium about custodial staff and you let you mind drift again, mulling over the ramifications of Holly Piper and the evident concern her presence has caused the young headmistress. You are more relieved than ever that you did not allow her to interview you, and you consider whether or not it would be best to report your meeting to Ms. Naylor.

"Ms. Naylor?" Donna Considine stands up near the end of the meeting. "I hate to be a broken record, but I see that the 'Student Auction' is on the calendar again." A muted groan goes up from several of the teachers while you turn your attention to the forthright middle aged woman. You look at the firm expression on the sturdy Math teacher's face, and pay attention, wondering what this is about.

"I know that what I'm about to say is old news to most of you here," Ms. Considine says. "But for he benefit of our new colleagues, and in the hope that some enlightenment on this issue has reached this august institution over the summer, I think that we are unwise to consider maintaining a tradition that is not only archaic, but would be considered socially insensitive by the outside world."

There are a few mutters of agreement, mostly from the younger teachers, and an emphatic 'Damn straight' from the imposing Lorri McKay.

"This event raises a lot of money for charity, Ms. Considine, as you well know. Charities, I might add, that are near and dear to your heart as well." The voice belongs to the dignified Mrs. Sommersby-Walker.

"Point taken," Ms. Considine nods. "I am fully in support of raising money for charity. I remain opposed to auctioning students off for menial tasks in a display that mirrors a **** auction. Given the current social climate, and the fact that a Boston Globe reporter is sniffing around, I strongly suggest that this is the time to end this archaic charade once and for all." She takes her seat to mutters of disagreement from some, and muffled applause from others.

"While your objection is valid, there is a problem with logistics if we were to cancel the event this year," Ms. Naylor says calmly, quelling the muttering. "Considerable time, effort and expense has already been dedicated to the event, which I remind you is only two weeks away. Our friends and partners in the local business community would be very displeased, and I don't think that this is the time to throw away their good will. As to the reporter, I spoke earlier that all communication is to go through me. I suspect that she will have grown bored and gone back to Boston within a few days anyway. As to the event itself, I am more than willing to discuss changes or alternatives for future years, but I'm afraid nothing can be done for this year."

Ms. Considine glowers and shakes her head in irritation, obviously giving up for the moment. Ms. McKay gives a snort of disgust before she speaks. "Tell you one thing. All those rich white girls can get themselves auctioned off if they want, but none of the scholarship students are going to participate. None of them. No black or brown girl is getting put on an auction block like she's a Mississippi nigger in 1857. Is that clear?" She glares around the room, daring anyone to disagree. Her gaze is met with nods of agreement or cowed looks of submission, but no one vocalises opposition.

"Point noted," Ms. Naylor says calmly. "Now unless someone has other business to raise, the meeting is adjourned. I remind you to check your schedule for tomorrow's orientation meetings and the weekend duty requirements, as well as chaperone assignments for the annual Hamilton/Pink Rose social next weekend. Other than that, you're free to go."

As the meeting breaks up you take your time gathering up your stuff. Several teachers approach with personal words of welcome, some sounding much more sincere than others. You note that several pointedly do not approach you or any of the other men, simply leaving the room as though oblivious to your presence. The Dean is the object of several wary and hostile glances, although he seems not to notice, as he's involved in a conversation with Ms. Considine. You see Brian approach Mr. Sharp.

"I'm Brian Watts, pleased to meet you Mr. Sharp," your roommate extends a hand.

"Likewise," he replies with a grin. "Interesting meeting."

"Very," you say as you step up to offer your hand with a smile.

"I thought there was going to be a riot in here for a while," Mr. Sharp chuckles. "Not what I was expecting."

"Me neither," Brian laughs. "Although I don't have much of a frame of reference. This is my first teaching job."

"We've all got to start somewhere," Darnell smiles, patting his shoulder. "Some of this was new on me too."

You nod agreement, glancing around the room as the last of the faculty leaves, leaving only the three of you and the Dean and Ms. Considine. As you watch, she says goodbye and leaves the room, and the Dean gathers up his materials and approaches your group.

"Gentlemen, good to meet you," he says extending a strong hand in greeting. "Kyle Hawkfeather."

"That was quite the performance," you say as you shake the Dean's hand. "I've got to say I wasn't expecting that."

"If I learned one thing in the Corps it was that discipline should be enforced by the book and not by whim. They hired me to do this, and they may come to regret it, but until they change the book I'm going with it."

"It seems reasonable to me," Mr. Sharp says with a grin. "It sure got some of the ladies in here upset though."

"I expect I haven't heard the last of it," the dean says. "Good to meet you gentlemen. I've got to go, but we should get together soon."

"Sounds good," you say. "I have a hunch we may be somewhat isolated here and it would be wise to stick together, if possible." Brian and Kyle nod and Darnell smiles and joins the chorus of agreement.