Drugs – A Serious
School Problem
Daily Observer
S.Q.
Lapius was happily ensconced in his favorite chair
just about to bring the evening paper into focus, when the bell chimed.
It
was easier for me to stop what I was doing, i.e. mixing cocktails, and answer
the door than for Lapius to disengage himself from
the cushiony comforts that seemed to have captured the middle third of his
body.
A
bedraggled hairy vision, dressed in blue jeans and an old army jacket
shouldered his way past the half opened door.
I did not know whether to run or strike out in self defense, when a
piping voice said, “Hi, Harry?”
I
peered quizzically trying to make out the features behind the woolly forest of
hair that obscured the features of the visitor, but to no avail.
“It’s
me,” the voice said, “Pidgy. Is Uncle Simon home?” I nodded dumbly and followed him into the
living room. Simon looked up and
recoiled instinctively, as Pidgy dropped his rucksack
to the floor.
A
billow of dust settled slowly, as the room filled with the aroma of dried and
stale sweat.
“Hello,
Uncle Simon,” piped the voice.
“My God!” Lapius exclaimed. “Who is this, Harry?”
“Funny
you don’t recognize him, Simon,” I answered, “Your kith and kin, your sister’s
boy, Pidgy.”
“Pidgy,” Simon said trying to make out whether the hair that
covered his face like a wild fungus was merely a Halloween disguise. “Pidgy,” he
repeated. “What are you doing here? Oughtn’t you be at
school?”
“I
ought, Uncle Simon, but I ain’t, because they threw
me out.”
“Then
that makes you an ought, doesn’t it?” Simon said,
still somewhat unsure of himself. “Why aren’t you at home then?”
“One
reason, is because my folks are away. I
thought I’d come here and settle down a bit, try to get it all together, you
know.”
“By
all means, my boy, make yourself at home. After you have showered and shaved, we’ll
have dinner.”
“Shave?”
“Well yes, Pidgy. You are very unkempt, and frankly the scent
emanating from you or your garments won’t blend with the fragrant meal I plan
to serve.”
“It’s
not fair to ask me to shave.”
“Who
said it was fair? It is merely a condition.”
“Okay,”
Pidgy said grudgingly, “You win.”
“Why
did they separate you from the school, Pidgy?” Lapius asked, while he adjusted his glasses to the new
visions.
“Well,
they caught me with some marijuana.”
“Where
did you get the marijuana?”
“At
school,” Pidgy said indifferently.
I
showed Pidgy to the guest room, and on Lapius’s orders, searched his rucksack and clothing for any
left over drugs that the school might have missed.
I
found only a small pipe that had a sweet smell to it. Pidgy objected to
the search, but I explained that was also a condition.
At
dinner, Pidgy, shuffling around uncomfortably in his
seat, explained that everyone at the boarding school smoked pot or some
reasonable facsimile. “I’ve been doing
it for three years, since I was fourteen.”
“Egads,” exclaimed Lapius, “surely
that is not what you were sent to school for.
Do your parents know about this?
What will happen now?”
“I
don’t know,” Pidgy said not as abjectly as I might
have expected him to. “But I guess since
the folks are away you will have to talk with the headmaster.”
The
following day, Lapius, Pidgy
and I drove to the school. The
headmaster greeted us warmly, with a sad shake of his head. His heavy lidded eyes blinked rapidly as if
to prevent tears from welling over the lids.
“I am terribly sorry about this, Dr. Lapius. But as you know we have no choice.”
“I
should think not, sir,” Lapius responded. “But what is the next step?”
“Oh,
there is no problem, Pidgy has good grades. We will place him in any boarding school of
his choice.”
Lapius’s jaw dropped, “You mean you will transfer Pidgy to an equivalent school?”
“Of
course,” the headmaster cajoled, “it will take only a phone call.”
“But,”
Lapius said, “if his offense is serious enough for
expulsion, why foist him on another school?”
“But
we don’t want to interfere with Pidgy’s career.”
“Then
keep him here.”
“I
am afraid we can’t do that, Dr. Lapius. That would create a discipline problem.”
“Seems to me you already have a discipline problem. Did you ask Pidgy
where he obtained the marijuana?”
“That’s
not necessary.”
“Well,
ask him anyway.”
The
headmaster turned reluctantly to Pidgy and asked the
question, Pidgy said, “At school sir.”
“It
would seem to me,” Lapius addressed the headmaster,
“that you are hardly in a position to expel Pidgy. After all, you might risk suffering exposure
of the fact that your institute is ridden with drugs. That wouldn’t be good for enrollment, would
it?”
“You
can’t prove that, Dr. Lapius. All that can be proved is that Pidgy had the drugs.”
“But
Pidgy believes he can prove it,” Lapius
said coldly.
“Wouldn’t
that be counterproductive Dr. Lapius? We are prepared to help Pidgy
in any way we can. He can put us down as
a reference. I will give him the best
recommendations.”
“That
hardly seems consistent with the action you are taking.”
“But
it would be for the best, wouldn’t it Dr. Lapius?”
“I’m
not sure," Lapius mused.
“Pidgy’s parents sent him to your boarding
school for an education in scholastics, not in pot. Apparently you have a marijuana garden here
instead, in which youngsters, beknownst to you or
not, are easily influenced to partake of the drug. Surely you should be alarmed about this state
of affairs, and take some corrective measures.
You do play the role of Loco parentis, you
know, and thus have grave responsibilities that you haven’t lived up to.”
“What
measure can we take? Can we search the
boys? Search their rooms?”
“Not
a bad idea for starters,” said Lapius.
“Their
parents wouldn’t stand for it,” the Headmaster said sternly. “You’ll have to come up with something better
than that.”
“Were
I in your position sir, I would write every parent and tell them that drugs are
a serious problem in all schools, this one included and ask them to be aware of
their use at home, and also for permission to search them out at school. In other words, stop sweeping the problem
under the rug.”
The
headmaster smiled indulgently, “Things aren’t that easy,” he glanced at his
watch. “I must be off.”
When
he said goodbye the headmaster put his left arm around Pidgy’s
shoulders and chucked him under the chin with his free hand.
“You
have spunk boy, and brains too. Remember always that we are behind you.” He turned to shake hands with Lapius, but Simon somehow couldn’t extricate his right hand
that had been dug deeply into his coat pocket.
On
the way home Pidgy was exultant. “You sure told him off, Uncle Simon.”
Lapius turned to him coldly. “Shut up you idiot. If I were the headmaster I would have chucked
you out as well. But not into another prep
school.”
The
Lapius addressed me, morosely, “We have all been made
accessory to the fact, haven’t we, Harry!”