Living Next Door To Heaven 156: The Great Debate free porn video
I was going to do fine in all my classes except one. I don't know why, but I was scared to death of Ms. Hammer. She mostly taught Senior English Lit, but she also coached the varsity cheerleaders and taught debate. I didn't realize that when I signed up for the class. I thought it would be an easy class that would lighten my load since most of the courses I took were junior level. Wrong! To make things worse, it was the last class of the day except Driver's Ed. And I'd missed one Driver's Ed lecture because of the stupid violation. I wasn't thinking very clearly, but Coach Hancock said class that day was a video and I could watch it over the weekend. My weekend was filling up.
"Now, I try to keep the issues that we debate relevant. So, we'll open the floor this afternoon to suggestions for topics to debate," said Ms. Hammer.
"The environment," one of the guys said. There were only three guys in this class. It felt almost like my dating group with fourteen girls.
"No," Ms. Hammer said flatly. We all looked at her. "In order to have a proper debate, a position must be stated. 'The environment' is a vast subject with so many facets that there can be no debate on it as a whole. Are you in favor of the environment or opposed to it? It makes no sense. Someone refine the suggestion."
"We should drain the swamps over at Juday Creek to cut down on the number of mosquitoes that breed there," said one of the girls.
"Good. Now let's look at it a little closer. Who specifically should drain the swamp? Are you suggesting a bunch of volunteers from this class?"
"Uh ... no. The Federal Government should drain it. I guess."
"Now, is this one issue or two? Or is draining the swamp an issue at all? It seems you are saying mosquitoes are the issue. If we can get agreement that there are too many mosquitoes bred at Juday Creek Swamp, then we can successfully debate the method of control. Let's put this one on the board and we'll get some people assigned to refine it. What else."
"The new conduct rules."
"This is a debate class, not a whining class. Who would you debate, on what issue?"
"They're completely unfair."
"That's arguing, not debating. Stay relevant." I expected Ms. Hammer to just put an end to the discussion and move on. She was the battle axe and when she said 'no' the subject was closed. But she hadn't said no.
"Couldn't we debate the School Board?" I glanced back at Amy Brown. She was really cute and sometimes I wished she had been closer to our group. I smiled at her, but she didn't seem to notice.
"I can't grade the School Board. Unless you can establish a resolution to be debated according to standard school debate rules and a person or team to support the opposing side, we can't debate the question."
"Point of order?" I said. God! I hoped I'd used the right words.
"What is your point?" Ms. Hammer asked.
"I'd like a clarification of how debates are judged. If I understand correctly, we are graded on who presents the best argument, not on whether we are right or wrong on the subject. Is that correct?" Things were falling into place in my mind faster than I could process them. I hoped I could catch up with my mouth.
"Judges of the debate are required to judge who has presented the best argument for his or her position. They are strictly forbidden to judge based on their own prejudice. A debate is very much like a trial. The jury may only base its findings on the facts presented."
"Ms. Hammer, if a resolution can be formed and agreed upon, I volunteer to present the case of the School Board in this debate, Pro or Con." The whole room was silent. Ms. Hammer looked at me.
"You will fail the class—the entire semester—if you intentionally throw the debate to your opposition."
"Ma'am, I will win this debate." There was a little shuffling of feet and someone hissed.
"Ms. Hammer, I volunteer to argue the case of the students." This time my head jerked around. Cassie? You want to debate me?
"Let me see. Miss Clinton, is it? I'm sure everyone in the class would like to argue against Mr. Frost in this matter. Why would you be the one that would be best chosen to represent the People versus the School Board?" Wow! The People versus the School Board? Ms. Hammer had already considered this!
"For most students, this issue is new. It is a sudden infringement upon rights that they have always had and they are offended by having those rights cut off. I was born into the slavery of parents, church, and school and have lived my life under restrictions as rigid as the ones the School Board has implemented. To me, these are rules my parents enforce daily and wholly support. The School Board's rules are not an infringement on rights I possess, but a darkening of the last ray of hope I have for freedom as I get older." I choked. I didn't know if I could argue against Cassie.
"The class will determine whether this is an adequate reason for you to represent the people. Is there any discussion before we bring the issue to a vote?" Everyone was quiet. "All those in favor of Brian Frost representing the St. Joe Valley School Corporation Board, signify by raising your right hand." Everyone voted. "Unanimously carried. Those in favor of Cassandra Clinton representing the People, signify by raising your right hand." Everyone raised a hand except me. "Opposed, the same sign." I still didn't vote. "Mr. Frost, you did not vote."
"Respectfully, Ms. Hammer, please record my vote as an abstention. I do not feel justified in voting for whom my opponent would be. I yield to the will of the class."
"Carried with one abstention." The rest of the class was devoted to refining the question. I had a bit of a plan in mind, but having Cassie oppose me was not what I planned on. Shit!
Rhonda, Donna, and I had a great time at the game Friday night. Rick passed for three touchdowns and our front line never let a defender touch him. Unfortunately, our defense leaked like a sieve and we still lost the season opener by six points. It was great to have Donna as the driver. We were completely free. I had to admit Rhonda was pretty brilliant in planning our date. We looked around a lot, but the stadium was crowded and we all decided we could hold hands during the game ... at least part of the time. There was a lot of jumping up and down and yelling.
The dance was another matter entirely. The first half hour was pretty good. The music was loud and we got hot and sweaty pretty fast. Then the DJ put a slow number on. Rhonda bowed out and pushed Donna into my arms. She leaned against me as we danced.
It was like the dance floor was suddenly filled with gestapo. We were tapped on the shoulder.
"Six inches apart on the dance floor at all times," Ms. Hammer said. I looked around and teachers and the principal and chaperones were all on the floor moving dancers apart.
"Seriously? During a slow dance?" I said.
"The PDA rules indicate that all dancers at school functions must maintain a distance of at least six inches between their torsos. It is very specific. Please, Brian, you don't want a second violation." I stepped back and dropped Donna's hand.
"Ms. Hammer, are you aware that we can go out to the parking lot, get in the car and drive fifty feet and make out for the next two hours while our parents think we are in the care of the school?"
"I know what I'd do."
"I think we're leaving."
"No readmittance." She was smug. The teachers and staff were fueling the fire and they knew it. This was going to go over big. The problem would be keeping it under control. I whispered to Rhonda and Donna and we split up to circulate among the dancers and the people who were just standing around.
"Hey, Rick. Nice game tonight."
"Thanks, Bri. You going to do the flaming hoop for homecoming again?"
"I hope so. Shelly's head cheerleader this year, so I have to ask her. Say, I just wanted to let you know that a bunch of us are leaving the dance because it's become no fun."
"No kidding. Got a plan?"
"Dog & Suds is still open till eleven. If there's enough of us buying floats, I bet they'll stay open. If somebody has a boombox, they probably wouldn't even mind if we were dancing in the parking lot. It's not that cold out." Rick grinned at me.
"I've got a sudden hankering for a root beer float." He turned and started organizing the football players. Once we started for the door, it was a mass exodus. Ms. Hammer was standing at the door the whole time repeating, "No readmittance." I was the last one out except for eight freshmen who were dancing and maintaining good distance between each other.
"I guess this dance wasn't as successful as I hoped," I sighed to Ms. Hammer. "I'm sorry you have to stay here to chaperone. But there are still students who are entitled to the whole dance." I looked over and waved at George. He tossed me a thumbs-up sign and kept dancing.
"They're staying," Ms. Hammer sighed. "Ah well. No readmittance." She waved at me as I left.
The Dog & Suds was rocking. Cars were parked six deep all the way around the root beer stand and there were six people in most of the cars. Many of the kids got out of the car and were dancing and stopping the carhops to get drinks. Some of them just stayed in the car and made out. The drive-in had turned up their music and piped it out into the parking area. No one was disorderly. We just had a great time and hung out until they started shutting down the lights at eleven-thirty. Donna drove me home and I got a very sound kissing from both my girlfriends. Now that was quite a reward.
Saturday morning at six-thirty, Whitney and I were on the cement apron in front of the garage doing our forms when Rhonda rode up on her bike. She came to us, waited for us to finish the form, and hugged and kissed each of us.
"I'll make breakfast," she said. "See you in half an hour."
Whitney had a motorbike that I greatly admired. The law classified it as a bicycle as it did not have enough power to be a motorcycle. As a result, it didn't require a license to operate, but had a better range than just pedaling. I was thinking seriously about that, but with luck in six weeks I'd have my license.
"Be a rock," she commanded and I froze. She bumped into me. I managed to stay standing. "Let's go eat," she said.
By eleven o'clock all our dating group and twelve others had gathered. In addition to the six people Principal Darnell had selected, there were three more seniors, another freshman, and two more juniors. With close to thirty of us sitting on the floor, I had the windows open and the fan going. We were in the middle of Indian Summer and it was almost as warm as August.
I'd had a good long talk with Mom and Dad. They understood what our issues were but also put up some good arguments for keeping the new rules. It was a real eye-opener. Mom thought most of the rules sounded reasonable and not much different than what they used to be. She thought we should specify a single rule that we felt was offensive or too restrictive and focus on that instead of being concerned with the whole list. I'd finally explained it in terms that they could understand.
"Mom. Dad. Should I have negotiated with the Kowalskis and let them fondle Joanne as long as they didn't rape her? Should I have gotten Kirby to agree to only beat me up a little instead of putting me in the hospital? The School Board has set itself up as a bully and Dr. Dewey is the biggest and baddest of the lot. If the rules we had were good enough, why did they need to change them? The only reason is to show us who is boss. That's what bullies are. I hope you'll understand that I'm not going to back down."
"Yet you have agreed to argue the School Board's case in your debate against Cassie," Dad pointed out.
"Presenting the absolute facts in a case can destroy the case more effectively than attacking it," I said. "It's in Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene ii. 'For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable men.' I will only make my arguments with their own words."
"Are you nuts?" Rick practically shouted. "You just rallied the entire school around you in the lunchroom and now you've volunteered to argue the School Board's part in open debate? Against her? No offense, Cassandra, but you are the most invisible person in the entire high school." Cassie bristled, but I asked for a pause.
"The debate is not about who is right or wrong. It has no impact on what the rules will be. But we need a forum that draws everyone together so we show an absolutely united front. Signs, banners, whatever it takes to drive home the fact that we are simply not going to take it. If everybody starts just flouting the rules, they'll pick people off one at a time and after a Saturday spent in detention or a day of suspension, kids will panic and fall in line. We have to do two things. We have to so overwhelm the authorities in a single demonstration that they can't respond against everyone."
"Why can't we just all go in and break the rules Monday?" George asked.
"Which one or ones? How would we get everyone coordinated? What about the kids who are already afraid? Or, like Cassie, already obey all those rules because of their parents? We need something that focuses everyone on an exact time and place for action, and we need it to rally voters around kicking the bastards out of office."
"She did kiss you in the lunchroom," Sandra laughed.
"Sandra, that was just to demonstrate the difference between a tribal greeting and a PDA. You can't imagine that Cassie would kiss me like Samantha did, can you?"
"I feel like we're in prison," Sora said. She'd been volunteered by her junior classmates in addition to being one of our group.
"Yeah," laughed Henry Dickens—also from her class. "We need those striped shirts they put on prisoners."
"You can't buy those. The stripes go the wrong way."
"We could make them." Everyone went silent and we turned to Brenda. "Well, look, there are fifteen hundred students at St. Joe Valley in junior and senior high. Half of them are girls and as of freshman year, every one of them learns to sew."
"That could work," Ty said. "You'd sew me a prison shirt, wouldn't you Shelly?" The senior cheerleader scowled at him.
"Only if I could guarantee I would see you behind bars."
"How about behind chain link fence?" I asked. That got me some stares, too. "I like the ideas, but we've got to get practical about it. Chain link is a problem. It's expensive and hard to install. But having a prison shirt and some kind of barrier that shows we are serious would be good."
"When's the great debate?" Erin, a freshman, asked.
"Tuesday, October 6. Exactly one month before the November elections."
"Then we've got work to do."
I'd honestly never heard of so much work taking place in so little time. And being kept generally a secret. We couldn't do anything at school, but the Dog & Suds became the official after school and after games hang-out. Mr. Creighton, who owned the drive-in, was a retired elementary teacher. He agreed to extend his open season so we'd continue to have a place to meet that was completely neutral ground. He was worried about too many cars, but that was only a problem after games.
Rachel and Rose located fabric that would work and ordered six bolts of it. We all chipped in to cover the up front costs. Rhonda's dad came through with a place for the girls to spend their Saturdays sewing in the basement of the church. It wasn't big enough, so both the Unitarian Church and St. Luke's Catholic Church opened their doors. Both churches were well-known for their social activism and embraced the concepts.
The only thing we did at school was done in the lunchroom. The teachers were still avoiding the cafeteria, so we could circulate pretty freely. We called it our School Board Free Zone and there was a fair amount of holding hands among the couples in the school. We used the cafeteria to get everyone's sizes and collect their five dollars for a shirt. Each person was given a pick-up location on the Saturday before the debate. The girls got regular production lines going with some cutting, some sewing, and some putting buttons on. One rule was that the shirts couldn't appear sloppy. They had to conform completely to the school dress code.
I didn't keep track of everything. I didn't need to. I needed to prepare for the debate. I did it by going straight to the source for information. I made an appointment to see Dr. Dewey.
Ms. Hammer had a real reputation among both the students and the teachers as a stickler for strict discipline in the classroom and in her extra-curricular advising. She was a chaperone at every school dance. She coached the varsity cheerleaders and made certain they were kept away from the team during road trips. She'd even sat between the cheerleaders and me on the occasion I was invited to join them. So when the request to have a debater meet with the Superintendent of Schools was made, it was granted. Ms. Hammer explained to him that I was the best debater in the class and would be arguing the part of the School Board while the part of the students would be argued by a girl she suspected of being a bit of a cry-baby. She convinced him that it would be the perfect opportunity for the School Board to show how much they care about the students by judging the debate. Dr. Dewey was all too happy to indoctrinate me. He lectured and waved sheets of paper around, though he never showed one to me directly. My head was full of so many mini-quotes that it was about to explode. Fortunately, Mom brought me a mini cassette player from her office and I was able to record the interview. Dr. Dewey went so far as to introduce me to the Chairman of the School Board who further explained the Board's position in terms of campaign slogans. That's when I discovered I hadn't been paying close enough attention. I started scribbling notes. Wow!
My luck held when I got the letter from Dr. Patterson, the Kokomo School Corporation Superintendent. Jen and Court had taken my message to him and he wrote a terrific rebuttal to Dr. Dewey's position. Of course, I couldn't use it, but I pushed it across my desk on Saturday afternoon and Cassie looked at it. Rhonda and Rachel had gone to the kitchen to make us some dinner. It was a rule of the house that Cassie's dad would let her come to study with our group as long as there was a group. The fact that the rest of our cohort was usually involved in something else never got mentioned to him.
"Are you supposed to be aiding and abetting the enemy?" Cassie asked as she finished reading the letter. She tucked it in her notebook without asking if I was giving it to her.
Becky
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