The Year They Burned the Books

The more Jamie thought about it, the more she thought the newspaper staff, at least the editors, should go to the school committee meeting to support Matt. The others, including Nomi, agreed when she broached it to them Tuesday, and so on Wednesday night, Jamie, Terry, Nomi, Cindy, and Tessa, along with Jack representing the reporters, all squeezed into the back row of the room in which the committee met. Morris Just, an athletic-looking middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed, graying beard, looked surprised, as did the other committee members at the conference table in front of the room, but no one asked the newspaper staff to leave. Matt, sitting uncomfortably next to a pleasant-looking plump woman in the second row, also looked surprised; then he scribbled a note and passed it to them. “I don’t believe you guys,” it said. “Thanks. Please be careful.”

The plump woman turned around and smiled at them, and Tessa whispered, “I wonder if that’s Mrs. Caggin.”

“It is,” Cindy whispered back. “She used to be my Brownie leader. She’s a neat lady.”

There was a long agenda, and Jamie found herself tuning out during much of it. But finally Mr. Just cleared his throat and said, “Next is the matter of the school paper—the editorial policy. Lisa?”

Jamie felt her heart speed up, and she leaned forward.

“Thank you,” said Mrs. Buel. “I’m sure the paper means well. I know how worked up high school kids can get over certain issues, and I think it’s wonderful when kids today are enthusiastic. But it’s up to adults to channel their enthusiasm and provide guidance. I’m just not sure that’s being done as well as it could be where the school paper is concerned, and I think the first issue’s editorial was a case in point …”

“You mean the condom editorial?” interrupted a large, jowly man sitting next to Mr. Just. “Very sensible, I thought.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” said another committee member, a slender woman in green—“Mrs. Grasshopper,” Tessa whispered; Jamie suppressed a laugh. “I think we should hear Lisa out.”

“The editorial’s over and done with,” Mrs. Buel said. “What we have to concern ourselves with is the future, and that’s why I suggested we invite Matt Caggin to our meeting …”

“Invite!” muttered Jack. “Wasn’t it more like a summons?”

“… to discuss his position as adviser and to tell us what the paper’s policy is regarding editorials.”

“Matt?” Mr. Just peered at him over the top of a sheaf of papers he’d been thumbing through. “Why don’t you tell us about the paper’s policy?”

Matt got up and strode to the front of the room, where he stood on one side, between the school committee and the audience. Mrs. Caggin turned slightly toward him in her seat.

“I’d be glad to tell you about the paper’s policy,” he said. “We’re very proud of it at Wilson High, and I’m very proud of my staff, many of whom were concerned enough about this matter to come tonight. No, I didn’t ask them to come. They decided that on their own.” He smiled at them briefly, then turned back to the committee. “Our policy is simple. The editor in chief writes editorials and may invite staff members, faculty, or students to write op-ed pieces. The editorials the editor writes don’t necessarily reflect the views of the staff as a whole, but like everything else in the paper, they do have to be approved by the faculty adviser, who, as you know, is me.”

Mr. Just raised his hand. “Excuse, me, Matt. What’s your standard for approving an editorial? I mean, when an editor shows you an editorial, what do you look for?”

“I look for accuracy and style, mostly.”

“Not subject matter?” asked Mrs. Buel, twiddling a pencil.

“Only in that I make sure the subject matter is pertinent—that it has something to do with a school issue or a local one, or, occasionally, a national issue about which the school community is concerned.”

“You don’t look for its appropriateness, its suitability for young, impressionable minds?”

Matt’s voice tightened, and Jamie saw Mrs. Caggin’s mouth tense. “We’re talking about high school students here, Mrs. Buel, not children. If an editorial were obscene or libelous or, possibly, frivolous, I’d veto it. But …”

“So you do have veto power,” Mrs. Buel interrupted. “Have you ever exercised it? I believe you’ve been the paper’s adviser for several years?”

“Eight,” Matt said; Jamie could see that he was getting angry. “And no, I’ve never used it.”

“Don’t you think,” Mrs. Buel asked, “that the paper has an obligation to reflect the moral standards of the community?”

“Of which community?”

“Of Wilson.”

“No, I don’t, not in its editorials. Not of Wilson, the town, and not always of the high school community either. Besides, I’m not sure either community has a single set of standards. A newspaper isn’t in the business of setting or reflecting standards anyway; it’s in the business of reporting the news. The Telegraph has a responsibility to report on controversial issues and to reflect all opinions, insofar as that’s possible given the limited resources of a school paper.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Buel triumphantly. “But the editorial in question didn’t do that. It just ‘reflected,’ as you put it, one person’s opinion, that of the editor.”

“That,” Matt spat out angrily, “is what an editorial is supposed to do! An editorial is opinion! Anyone who disagrees with what’s expressed in an editorial or in anything else, for that matter, can write a letter to the editor.”

“But, Matt,” said Mr. Just, “I believe the paper often does have an op-ed page, and I think many papers request op-ed pieces from the opposing side when there’s an editorial on one side of a hot issue.”

Jamie jumped to her feet. “We did request one. And I—I’m Jamie Crawford, the editor in chief, and I wrote the editorial that Mrs. Buel is upset about. I did talk to someone about doing an op-ed piece on the other side, but that person ended up not writing it. I asked a lot of other people, too, but no one wanted to do it, and then it was too late. There weren’t any opposing letters to the editor for the next issue; we were sure there’d be some. But obviously no one was upset enough to write one.”

“Or,” said Mrs. Buel with a thin smile, “perhaps no one dared write one, given the fact that everyone must know editorials need faculty approval and given the fact that the other side wasn’t represented fairly in the paper.”

Nomi stood up beside Jamie. “I’m the one who Jamie asked to write the op-ed piece. And I talked about it and thought about it and everything, but I’m not a writer and I—well, I guess I was scared …”

“Oh?” Mrs. Buel raised her eyebrows. “Scared? Of what, dear?”

“Well, most kids are for the condom distribution, and I’m sure the school administration approves of it, since it’s the nurse who’s handing them out. So I—well, I guess I didn’t want to—you know.”

Mrs. Buel leaned forward. “Were you afraid of some kind of retaliation if you wrote the op-ed piece?”

Nomi looked confused. “What? I don’t …”

“Were you afraid you’d lose friends or be harassed or asked to leave the paper’s staff?”

“No,” said Nomi, clearly astonished. “No, of course not, I … Um—I was scared of not being able to say it right, I guess, and of being in the minority. But I didn’t think anyone would do anything to me or anything.” She turned to Jamie. “Jamie, I’m sorry I didn’t write it, really I am.”

“It’s okay,” Jamie said softly. “Nomi is our art editor,” she explained to the committee. “She’s a better writer than she thinks she is, but she’s always been sort of reluctant to write. Anyway, if there’s any fault here, it’s mine, not Matt’s.”

Mrs. Caggin, Jamie could see, was smiling faintly.

Mrs. Buel raised her eyebrows again. “Matt’s? You mean Mr. Caggin’s, don’t you? Are you in the habit of calling Mr. Caggin by his first name?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lisa,” Matt said. “We’re very informal on the newspaper. We have to be; it’s a high-stress job, especially since we all have other responsibilities.”

“You took on the job of faculty adviser to the paper, Mr. Caggin,” said Mrs. Buel. “If it’s too much for you, I suggest you let the administration know.” She turned toward her colleagues on the committee. “The point is that there is no place for this kind of laxity at our high school. High school students are at the period in their development during which they will either become responsible, morally upright citizens or irresponsible, morally selfish ones. We tend to forget that they’re still children, in need of our moral guidance …”

“Yes, Lisa,” interrupted Mr. Just. “We do know how you feel about that issue.”

The jowly man nodded as if he agreed, but two or three other committee members, who’d been silent so far, looked annoyed, and they’d smiled at Mrs. Buel’s words.

A woman in a red suit, who’d been sitting quietly in the front row, stood up and faced the other audience members. “I’m Laura Hodges.” (Jamie, thinking of Karen and Sam and their association with Brandon, groaned inwardly.) “Those of you who go to Lord’s Assembly know me, as do my neighbors on Partridge Road, as do PTA people. I have a daughter at the high school and a son at the middle school. The school committee may know how Lisa Buel feels, but many others do not and are not aware of the problems she’s found in our education system. That is why we’ve formed FTV, Families for Traditional Values, and I must say, we’ve enjoyed a gratifying amount of support already. I, for one, was appalled at the school’s condom policy and at the editorial supporting it, and many people we’ve contacted were—are—also appalled. I don’t really blame you, dear,” she said to Jamie. “You were fired up, but you needed guidance to steer your thinking into more acceptable lines. I don’t know what Mr. Caggin was thinking, or your parents, I’m sure.”

Jamie, who felt ready to explode, burst out, “My parents! My parents have nothing to do with this! And I don’t see why I need guidance just because I wrote my opinion, which in this country I have every right to do!”

“Right on, Jamie,” said Terry, and Jack, Cindy, and Tessa started to clap.

Several others in the audience followed suit, but Mr. Just held up his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, please. Mrs. Hodges, do you have anything more to say?”

“Yes. I have here”—she whipped out a piece of paper—“a petition for Mr. Caggin’s removal from his position as newspaper adviser, signed by all the members of FTV.”

There was a muted gasp from the front row—Mrs. Caggin, Jamie was sure—and in the stunned silence that followed, Mrs. Hodges handed the paper to Mr. Just.

“Thank you,” he said evenly. “We’ll take it under advisement. Does anyone else have anything more to say on this issue?”

Jamie searched desperately for a reply, but could think of nothing. Nomi looked as if she was about to cry, Jack looked furious, and Tessa, Terry, and Cindy seemed to be in shock. Jamie couldn’t see Matt’s face, but she could see the tension in his back and shoulders.

“All right,” said Mr. Just. “Then I think we on the committee need to go into executive session in order to discuss this further. For any of you not familiar with the open-meeting law,” he went on, “a town board’s meetings must always be open to the public, except when the board goes into executive session, which can be held when there’s a sensitive personnel matter to discuss. I believe the only other things on tonight’s agenda are the health text review and the question of condom distribution. Let’s dispose of those, if we can. Lisa, you’re on again.”

“Health text?” whispered Cindy. “And condoms? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Jamie whispered back. “But I think we’re about to find out.” She put her hand on Nomi’s arm. “Nom’, it’s not your fault. Like I said, if it’s anyone’s, it’s mine …”

“Shh!” Terry tipped his head toward Mrs. Buel.

“… so I think,” she was saying, “that since the texts used in the high school’s health classes include positive material about matters that are unacceptable to a large segment of the community, we should review them carefully with an eye to choosing different ones. I’d like to propose that the texts be collected at the next meeting of each health class and held until a book review committee, which I’ll be glad to form and to chair, has had a chance to study them and compare them with others that are available. I’d also like to propose that the committee look further into the advisability of making condoms available to high school students.”

“Lisa, could you outline your objections to the current texts?” asked the grasshoppery-looking woman.

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Buel. “The section on AIDS, for example, in the senior text, devotes three paragraphs and a very graphic diagram to condoms and only a couple of sentences to abstinence. Again, high school students are at a sensitive, impressionable age, especially as regards sexual matters. They need guidance in order to help them make healthy decisions about their lives, and they certainly shouldn’t be encouraged to have premarital sex; condom availability encourages that—as does the text. For example, the section on lifestyles says, and I quote: ‘More and more couples these days are choosing to live together before marrying.’ It also says, ‘Gay and lesbian couples in some parts of the country can register as domestic partners and can adopt children; some opt to have children of their own.’ These are just samples, mind you, of material that we find objectionable and misleading. Children tend to think anything they read in a book is the truth, is acceptable, and that of course is not the case.”

“High school students are not …” Matt burst out, but the grasshoppery woman interrupted, clucking her tongue. “Pretty revealing samples, if you ask me. I’m glad you brought them to our attention, Lisa. I agree that we should review the question of condoms and also the high school health texts, and perhaps those used on other levels as well.”

“Oh, hang on, Helen,” the jowly man said to her. “Lisa, you, too. There’s nothing inaccurate about those statements in the text. They’re statements of fact.”

“Statements of fact without guidance are misleading and irresponsible,” Lisa Buel retorted. “Condoms encourage promiscuity. It is illegal to be homosexual in many states; homosexuals are mentally unbalanced; they get and spread disease; they molest children. Where are those facts?”

“Where indeed?” said the grasshoppery woman.

“The act of sodomy is illegal in some states,” said Matt. “Not homosexuality. Heterosexuals can commit sodomy, and many do. The American Psychological Association and the American Psychiatric Association long ago removed homosexuality from their lists of mental disorders. Heterosexuals as well as homosexuals get and spread disease, and many more heterosexuals than homosexuals molest children. And condoms can prevent disease and pregnancy. If we’re talking about facts, Lisa, let’s get them right.”

Lisa Buel smirked slightly. “I wonder what your interest is in this, Mr. Caggin. As I recall, you teach English, not health.”

“And I’m also the paper’s adviser,” Matt said hotly. “As such, I have to be informed about issues that involve the school, and I also …”

“That’s enough,” said Mr. Just. “I’m reluctant to let this review business go forward, because I’m afraid of its turning into some kind of vendetta. But I suppose we’d better do it to satisfy those who are concerned.” He turned to the other committee members. “Discussion?”

“I’m not happy with it either,” said the jowly man. “But I agree that we’d better let these people pursue it, if there really are complaints.”

“Oh, there are, there are,” said Lisa Buel. “I’ve been talking with people, and the more they become aware of what’s been going on, the more dissatisfaction they feel.”

“I never knew,” said Karen Hodges’s mother, “what was in that new health education curriculum till Lisa brought it to my attention.”

“That’s odd,” commented a woman from the back row. “It was publicized in the town paper, and there were copies of it available in the library.”

“And a good many people in town trusted the school committee and the school itself to institute only responsible courses,” Mrs. Hodges retorted. “It took Lisa to show us that wasn’t so, and I for one thank God she was elected.”

“Ladies, please,” said Mr. Just. “Let’s put it to a vote. Someone make a motion.”

The jowly man moved that Mrs. Buel be empowered to form a committee to study the textbooks and the question of condom distribution, and Mrs. Buel amended the motion to add that the books and condoms be removed and withheld at least till the study’s completion.

“The motion passes as amended,” Mr. Just announced after a show of hands. “Now, it’s late, and we still need to resolve Matt’s situation. Non-committee members, you’re excused. Matt, you may stay for a few minutes if you have anything to say to us in private.”

Matt shook his head. “I’d rather have a chance to speak after your decision. I’ve already made my basic point.”

“Very well, then.” Mr. Just stood up. “Thank you all for coming. School committee members, we’ll take a five-minute break and then return for executive session.”

About half an hour later, while Jamie, Terry, Nomi, Jack, Cindy, and Tessa waited with Matt and Mrs. Caggin in the hall, sitting on the floor and playing twenty questions to pass the time, Morris Just called Matt into the meeting room. And a few minutes after that, Matt came back out. “The good news,” he said, taking his wife’s hand, “is that I can continue as adviser. The bad news is that editorials have to give equal weight to all sides of any controversial issue.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jamie shouted. “That means they won’t be editorials at all.”

“I know. I asked if they’d let us run real editorials whenever we’re able to get an op-ed, but they refused that on the grounds that we didn’t with the condom issue. We don’t have a choice, gang, at least not now.”

The next morning a notice went up outside the nurse’s office saying condoms would no longer be available, until further notice. In health class, the teacher collected all the textbooks. Almost everyone cheered, but Jamie felt a cold knot in the pit of her stomach, and Terry, across from her in the next row, looked grim.