The Landry News Read online

  Right away, Ms. Steinert wrote up a press release about the situation. A committee duplicated the eight copies of The Landry News and sent sets of them along with the information sheet to every newspaper, radio, and TV station in the greater Chicago area. They printed up handbills with the divorce story on it and mailed it to the home of every taxpayer in Carlton, asking the question, “Should someone be fired because of this?”

  Mr. Larson’s wife was active in the Chicago teachers’ union, and each elementary, junior high, and high school in the metropolitan area received a copy of the press release about the hearing and the charges. The president of the union had made a statement on WGN about the case and the importance of supporting free speech and academic freedom.

  Of course, all the parents of the kids in Mr. Larson’s class already knew about The Landry News. Many of them had been making their own photocopies of the paper for grandparents and aunts and uncles, so everyone could see the wonderful things those bright kids in Mr. Larson’s class were writing and thinking and learning.

  A reporter from the Chicago Tribune followed up and learned that the kids were now publishing a different paper, the Guardian, on their own, including an Internet edition. Four days later, the online Guardian had a free link from the Tribune’s own homepage—and three days after that, the Sun Times followed suit.

  Before the superintendent had even posted a notice on the town’s cable TV channel to list the time and place of the hearing, there had already been articles about the situation in both of the big Chicago newspapers. Mr. Larson had even been interviewed in the Sunday Tribune, and a reporter from Channel Nine’s evening news had come to the apartments at Edgewater Village to interview Cara Landry.

  Cara hadn’t liked the interview or the reporter, a woman with bright orange hair. It was a cold and windy afternoon, but the reporter wanted to talk outdoors. She said she looked better on camera in natural light. Barking orders, she got the camera crew and the sound guy in position next to some evergreen bushes.

  After finding the best angle for the shot, she faced the camera, smiled, and said, “I’m Jordy Matlin, coming to you live from the Edgewater Apartments in Carlton. This is the home of Cara Landry, a young lady whose newspaper is at the center of a local controversy. Now Cara, tell our viewers, was it your teacher or your principal who got you in trouble about this newspaper?”

  Cara wasn’t expecting such a question. She froze up.

  The reporter stopped smiling, lowered her microphone, and yelled, “Cut!” Bending so close that Cara could smell the acrid scent of her hair spray, Jordy Matlin said, “This is the part where I ask you questions, and you answer them, okay? All you have to do is listen to the question, and when I hold out the microphone, you talk. All right?” The camerawoman cued the reporter with a count of five, and then Jordy asked Cara the same question. “Now, Cara, tell us, was it your teacher or your principal who got you in trouble about this newspaper?” This time, Cara was ready. She had remembered that this was just like writing for the newspaper, only she’d be talking instead. All she had to do was tell the truth in a kind way. So Cara said, “Neither. And I’m not in trouble. The newspaper’s not even in trouble, really. It’s just a difference of opinion about what should go into a newspaper made at a school.”

  The reporter tilted the microphone back toward herself and said, “This story about a divorce that you published—didn’t you think this would cause some problems? If this isn’t just a story, say, if this really happened, then some family’s business has been spread all over town. And, of course, many churchgoers think divorce itself is bad. Didn’t you think there might be a problem here?”

  Cara looked into the camera and said, “I wasn’t thinking about anything except giving someone the chance to tell a story—and it’s a story that I think has been good for a lot of kids to read.”

  The camera stayed on Cara’s face for another three seconds, and then the reporter said, “Cut,” quickly shook Cara’s hand, and turned on her heel and clicked off across the parking lot, talking with her producer. Cara heard her say, “Now we need a shot of the school, and fifteen seconds each with the principal, the superintendent, and the school board president. And we’ve got to find this teacher that they’re trying to ax. We can lay out some copies of the kid’s newspapers and get a collage shot back in the studio before we do the full mix. Ted tells me he’s holding two minutes for us in the local segment, but we have to really hustle if we’re going to make it.” All the newspeople piled into two white vans and roared off toward the center of town.

  Cara was disappointed. She thought there would be more to it than that. She’d only gotten to say about three sentences, and it was such a complicated story. Fifty or sixty words wasn’t enough. And what had the reporter called Mr. Larson . . . “this teacher they’re trying to ax”? Cara winced at that, wishing she had used her moment on camera to say something that would have helped take the heat off Mr. Larson.

  Joanna Landry came over and put Cara’s coat around her shoulders. Cara smiled up at her mom and said, “Now I know why I like newspaper stories better than TV news stories.” Her mom nodded and smiled. “That reporter was kind of a tough bird. Still, you did just fine, Cara honey. Now let’s get in out of this wind.”

  Based on the number of phone calls received at the superintendent’s office, the location of the hearing was moved from the town hall to the high school auditorium so there would be enough room for everyone who was planning to attend.

  During the ten days before the hearing, Mr. Larson and his afternoon class kept track of each development and how it related to the First Amendment. The kids saw the impact of the newspaper and television coverage. They studied Mr. Larson’s interview in the newspaper and compared it to Cara’s TV interview, and then compared them to other interviews of Dr. Barnes and the superintendent. They split into teams and had debates, and they put a whole new layer of clippings and cartoons and news photos onto Mr. Larson’s bulletin boards.

  Mr. Larson was happier than he had been for many years. By the time the day of the hearing arrived, he was ready to walk in with his head held high. All of his students were planning to be there.

  For most people, this was simply a disciplinary hearing. But for Mr. Larson and his students, it was the last lesson in a unit about the most interesting subject they had ever studied.

  CHAPTER 20

  HOME TEAM GOES FOR BROKE

  SHORTLY BEFORE 7:30 on a Tuesday night in December, Mr. Larson straightened his necktie, kissed his wife, then turned to walk down the sloped aisle of the high school auditorium. A row of folding tables had been set up in front of the auditorium stage. After he sat down across from Dr. Barnes at the first table, Mr. Larson turned his head and looked out into the audience. It looked to him like there were at least four hundred people in the room.

  His wife had settled near the back and was smiling at him, all warmth and support. The kids from his class were scattered all over the place, sitting with one or both of their parents. Cara and her mother were in the fourth row, and when he looked at them, Cara gave him a nervous smile and waved shyly. Mr. Larson felt self-conscious up there at the front of the hall, but he did not feel alone.

  There was something that Mr. Larson had not discussed with the kids in his class. It was entirely possible that the freedom of the press would win its battle, and that he would still lose his job.

  True, public opinion mattered. Newspaper reporters and camera crews from two of the three major TV stations were here. But at the end of the night, it would all depend on how the school board voted. Mr. Larson knew that out of the seven members, three would love to see him leave, and two others were not very fond of him. It was going to be an uphill battle.

  At exactly seven-thirty, the superintendent called the meeting to order. The school board president, Mrs. Deopolis, read the call-to-meeting notice and then introduced Dr. Barnes. Since it was Dr. Barnes who had brought the complaint, he was required to speak first.r />
  “Madam President,” he began, “on Friday, December seventh, I read the newest edition of this student newspaper and found a story about divorce that I did not think was appropriate. As you know, I immediately brought the article to the attention of the board and the superintendent. You apparently agreed that the content was not appropriate, and since Mr. Larson had accepted responsibility for the content of the newspaper, you agreed that this disciplinary hearing was needed. Madam President, will you please explain to those present what the board found to be inappropriate in the story?”

  As Dr. Barnes sat down, Mrs. Deopolis leaned closer to her microphone and said, “Yes, Dr. Barnes. We found that the subject matter and the description of the boy’s suffering was too personal, and that the topic of divorce is too mature a theme to be treated in this way in an elementary school newspaper. The board feels that by allowing this to be published, Mr. Larson made a very serious error in judgment. In light of past complaints about Mr. Larson’s abilities and practices as a classroom teacher, we agreed that this hearing was necessary.” Turning to Mr. Larson, Mrs. Deopolis asked, “Mr. Larson, do you have a lawyer present or will you be speaking for yourself?”

  Mr. Larson stood up stiffly, talking into a hand-held microphone. “I will be speaking for myself, Madam President.” Stepping away from the table, Mr. Larson addressed the board members. “I see this issue of the story in The Landry News in very simple terms. Yes, Dr. Barnes made me responsible for the content of the paper, and I passed that responsibility on to the students. It is true that Dr. Barnes asked to see each copy of the newspaper before it was printed, and I refused that request. But Dr. Barnes did not insist on previewing each paper, which, as principal, he could have. Instead, he left the responsibility with me. He gave me no guidelines about what topics were not appropriate, nor does the school board have any clear policies regarding school newspapers. According to the Hazelwood Supreme Court decision, a school board must have a clear set of policies in force in order to censor a student newspaper.”

  Mr. Larson paused and looked around at Dr. Barnes. “So, as I see it, I am being accused of allowing something to happen that no one ever informed me I should not have allowed to happen in the first place. Either that, or the real issue here is those past complaints about my teaching practices that Madam President has mentioned.”

  Mr. Larson walked back to his place, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a copy of the article. “As part of my statement, I would like to read out loud the entire story from the newspaper so that all present and also all those watching at home on the town cable TV channel can judge for themselves its appropriateness or inappropriateness.” The board members began hurriedly whispering among themselves, their hands cupped over their microphones.

  The whispering stopped, and Mrs. Deopolis said, “Since it is a part of your defense, you have the right to read the story into the record, Mr. Larson.”

  A woman in the sixth row immediately stood up and raised her hand. Mrs. Deopolis nodded to her, and a Boy Scout trotted over to her with another portable microphone. “Thank you, Madam President. My name is Allie Morton, and my son Michael has asked if he may read the story aloud. He’s the boy who wrote it, and it’s about the divorce our family went through last year.”

  Almost everyone in the auditorium seemed to gasp at once. But Cara Landry didn’t gasp. She had known this was coming. She had called Michael a week ago to ask him to read his story at the meeting. She told him it would help Mr. Larson if people could see that this was a true story. At first Michael said no. He thought he would be too scared. But after he talked it over with his mom, he called Cara back and said he would do it—for Mr. Larson. Cara sat up on the edge of her seat to see what would happen.

  After another hurried conference among the board, it was agreed that Michael Morton could read his own words aloud for the record. He squeezed his way past knees and seat backs in the sixth row and walked down the aisle to where Mr. Larson stood. Mr. Larson handed Michael the story and held the microphone for him. Michael brushed the mop of brown hair out of his eyes, looked once at his mom in the sixth row, and then at Cara Landry in the fourth row. He focused on the page, gulped, and began to read, squinting because of the bright lights held up by the TV camera crews.

  Lost and Found

  When I heard that my parents were getting divorced, the first thing I did was run to my room, grab my baseball bat, and pound all my Little League trophies into bits.

  I felt like I wanted to run away. I have a lot of friends who have divorced parents, but I never thought it would happen in my family. I felt like I was lost. This was going to ruin everything.

  My mom told me that my dad was going to move out and live somewhere else. She kept saying things like “Don’t worry” and “Everything will be all right” and “Things like this just happen.” And she said that I would still get to see my dad and that I could talk to him whenever I wanted to. I didn’t believe her.

  My dad took me out to a restaurant. He wanted to talk to me. He said I wouldn’t understand, but that he just didn’t love my mom anymore. He was right—that was the part I couldn’t understand. I mean, sometimes I yell “I hate you!” at my mom and my dad, and some days I feel like I hate everybody. But I don’t really, and pretty soon everything’s okay again. I know I could never stop loving my dad. And I could never stop loving Mom, either. So I couldn’t see how my dad could stop loving her. And I thought that if my dad could stop loving Mom, then he could probably stop loving me, too.

  When Dad went to pay for the food, I ran out of the restaurant and hid in the bushes by the parking lot. I saw him come outside and look for me, and he was yelling my name and he was really scared and worried. And I was glad. I watched until my dad got in the car and used his telephone, and then he drove off toward our house, really fast.

  I walked over to my friend Josh’s house, but he wasn’t home. Then I just walked and walked. It was way after dark when I got home. There was a police car in front of my house. When I walked in, my mom ran over to hug me, but I wouldn’t let her. My dad said I was in big trouble, and that I was grounded. But I just said, “How are you going to ground me? You’re not even going to be here to see anything I do.” Then I went to my room and slammed the door as hard as I could.

  That was about a year ago. My dad did move out, and now he’s already married again. I never did really run away, not even for an afternoon. But I used to cry a lot, late at night. I know some kids will think that’s a sissy thing, but I couldn’t help it. And one day my mom was late getting home from work, and there wasn’t a message, and there was no answer at her office, and I got so scared, and I ran to her room to look in her closet to see if her dresses were still there. It was stupid, but I was afraid that maybe she had moved out, too.

  Sometimes I’m not as happy as I used to be, but I try not to show it. I think my mom is happier now, but if I get unhappy, it ruins things for her and then it’s hard for both of us.

  Things aren’t so bad now, just different. I found out that my mom told the truth back at the beginning, because everything is mostly all right, and when she said “things like this just happen,” that was right too. Now I know that something like this can just happen, because it happened to me.

  And I also found out that my dad still loves me. And I even know that he still loves Mom, only not in a married way. It’s not that I see him a lot or anything, because I don’t. He’s not with me every day, or at bedtimes, except one weekend a month. But I know he still loves me. I just know it, and sometimes just knowing something has to be enough.

  When Michael finished reading, people all around the auditorium were fishing around for tissues and handkerchiefs. There was a spontaneous burst of applause, and he made his way back to his seat. After Michael sat down, his mom put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

  When it was quiet again, Mr. Larson said, “Thank you, Michael.” Then he held up the story Michael had just read and said, “How could someon
e say that this is not appropriate content for elementary school children to read and think about? Parents and others who have very good motives—people like Dr. Barnes and all of us who want only the best for children—we may not like to admit that things like divorce create very real problems for children, but they do. And if children are honest enough to admit that, why can’t we?

  “My teaching style is unconventional, and Dr. Barnes and I have disagreed about that since he arrived here seven years ago. Could I have been a better teacher during that time? Yes. I admit that. But what has happened with this newspaper—and that includes allowing this story to be published—is some of the best work I have done in all my nineteen years as a teacher. If I am to be fired, please, let it be for something other than this.”

  Everyone, even Dr. Barnes, knows that in an auditorium with four hundred people on their feet and cheering, with the TV cameras rolling, and the reporters scribbling in their notebooks, it’s not a good idea to fire the person the crowd is applauding.

  In less than a minute, while the audience was still clapping and cheering, Mrs. Deopolis took a quick poll of the school board and announced for the record that the disciplinary action against Mr. Karl Larson, Teacher, was dismissed.

  Cara Landry had done as Mr. Larson asked and stopped publishing The Landry News. But even though the Guardian had kept her busy, Cara had not stopped writing The Landry News, and she had not stopped printing it. As the crowd began to leave, Cara stayed in her seat in the fourth row and turned to watch.

  Joey and Ed stood at doors on the north side of the auditorium; LeeAnn and Sharon took the two doors at the south side. They were handing out a special edition of The Landry News.

  Cara reached into her coat, pulled out a copy, and carried it down to Mr. Larson, who was surrounded by reporters. He stopped midsentence when Cara put it into his hand, and looked from the paper to Cara’s face and then back to the paper. Cara stood to one side and watched quietly as he read the whole thing.