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1-Mr Davis makes the grade:
'Mister Davis'! Mr Strauss, who had been handing back our term papers, looked at me sternly.
'Mister Davis, I've saved your paper for last, Mister Davis! Here it is!'
He stood there, quivering with rage, dressed as he always was, his red tie, white shirt, and navy blue blazer, a testament to his patriotism. His eyes bulged as he handed me the paper I'd turned in last Friday. I could see it sported a bright red 'F' in magic marker on the cover.
'I have given you an F! You are a failure, Mister Davis!'
We'd had an uncomfortable relationship all this term. I didn't like him very much, and he had already let me know he didn't very much like me either. But he had never gone ballistic like this before!
'I've been teaching this class since before President Trump started in his third term! And you are undoubtedly one of the worst students I have ever had all my years teaching Americanism Versus Liberalism! You refuse to recognize the greatness of our American system! You refuse to accept even the basic tenets of American Social Darwinism! You even question the wisdom of guns in our schools!' he said waiving his arms for emphasis.
Mr Strauss was becoming more and more inflamed, and I wondered what he would do next. What he did next was to pull out a small shiny handgun from beneath his navy blue blazer, and wave it in the air. The sunlight from the tiny slit windows in the classroom glinted off its nickel plated barrel.
I cringed. 'Hey! Be careful with that!' I said, as I reached into my backpack.
'Mister Davis!' he said, 'You don't even believe in America! You don't even believe that I should be armed, armed so that I can protect our school! Protect our school from the terrorists that lurk outside our doors! Protect our country, Mister Davis! Protect America from people who want to take our guns! Protect America from The Liberals and The Progressives and The Intellectuals, and from people like you! You, Mister Davis! You! You are the enemy to our great civilization!'
He aimed the gun at me and said 'People like you, Mister Davis, need to be terminated!'
The gun shot made a deafening roar which echoed off the cinder-block walls of the classroom. Mr Strauss fell to the floor, an ugly red stain growing slowly on his white shirt, matching his red tie, and party hidden under the open blue blazer. He still held the gun loosely in his hand. There was no anger in his face anymore, just a quiet peace, and his eyes looked off in an unblinking gaze at eternity.
I now pulled my hand out of my backpack. In it was the Colt Defender that I always carry for defense. Like everyone else in our school, I'd had mandatory NRA firearms training since the 4th grade. Now my backpack had a new hole it it, but I was alright, if a bit shaken. I laid my gun, still slightly smoking, on the floor, next to Mr Strauss and held my open hands up in the air, as we had been taught to do after a shooting. As I straightened up, the Sheriffs Resource Officer assigned to our section opened the door cautiously and came into the classroom.
'What happened in here?' the SRO asked looking up from Mr Strauss to me.
'I used my constitutional right to bear arms,' I said, 'and he drew first!'
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2-Little Jamie:
Jamie's mom put down the phone. Her husband looked up from the paper at her. 'What was that all about?' he said.
'There's been a shooting at Jamie's school, and, and... Oh God! And Jamie was the shooter!'
Jamie's father frowned. 'But how would Jamie have gotten a gun?' he asked, rubbing his chin.
'I think Jamie must have taken one of yours from the display case in the study', she said.
Jamie's father nodded and said 'Jamie must have gotten it past the guards at the entrance somehow...'
'And there's more. The other student is ... well, the other student is dead!' said Jamie's mom.
He husband's eyes widened. 'Damn!', he said.
'I know!' said Jamie's mom tearfully. 'I'm so proud!'.
'That's my little Jamie!' said her husband, smiling.
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3-The Trouble With Young Daniel Strong:
Mr Douglas shifted uncomfortably in his chair in his office, looked directly at the parents of young Daniel Strong, and spoke forcefully.
'That's the reason I asked you here today, to discuss your the problem your son is having. I'm afraid he's not fitting in here at Parkland Elementary. He's getting into trouble with the other boys during our Personal Interaction Hour. And his Martial Arts instructor has spoken to me a number of times. I'm afraid young Daniel just isn't getting it.'
Mr and Mrs Strong looked at him, blinking. Mrs Strong spoke. 'But this is only the third grade. And Daniel is so sensitive.'
Mr Douglas cleared his throat. 'Ahem, Yes. Well, We've had to harden our schools a bit, since you went to school, I'm afraid. These days we educators have to expect a lot more of our students, even at the third grade level. And we expect much more from a third grader now days than young Daniel is able to deliver, to be blunt, Mrs Strong.'
Mr Strong looked narrowly at Mr Douglas. 'Are you telling us our son is being exiled? From the third grade? To the Dark-Lands?', he asked with a note of urgency.
'Well, we really can't have him in here with the others, Mr Strong. He's not safe here. The other students are noticing his weakness.'
Suddenly Mr Douglas brightened and said 'Oh, cheer up, though! Cheer up! We aren't going to exile young Daniel yet! Not to live in the Dark-Lands. Not just yet!
'Instead, starting this Monday, we are transferring him to another institution which is much better suited to his special needs. I'm happy to say that we have placed him in The Sandy Hook Institute for The Emotionally Under-Aggressive.
'Oh, it's a great place! Sandy Hook is a special place! They do wonderful things there! Wonderful things! They have a much better teacher to student ratio there, and a very high success rate with cases like your son's. They have a doctor who can prescribe the right medications - I hear Meta-Meth is a very popular choice now days. And it's a real boot-camp there. They'll toughen him up! You'll see. Push-ups in the morning, Tae Kwon Do in the afternoon. And there are animal killings at least once a week for every student! If he shows enough improvement he'll be mainstreamed again. Young Daniel is not so impossible a case as all that, believe me!
He paused. 'You might also...', he handed them a mimeographed list of names, 'get him a Martial Arts tutor for his weekends. Here's a few approved by the NRA.'
He smiled some more, they all stood up, shook hands and went out to see young Daniel who was waiting in the lobby. The last he saw of young Daniel Strong was that the boy turned and said 'Thank you, Warden! I won't let you down!' as he went though the door.
After they had left, Mr Douglas sighed and reflected that Daniel Strong was now at least someone else's problem. It was a sad case. He had lied to the parents, of course, but it was better that way. They did good work at Sandy Hook, but they couldn't work miracles! Exile for young Daniel Strong would occur in a few months, or a year at most. Exile to the Dark-lands, where a sudden and violent death was a near certainty. Shaking his head he went back to his desk.
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