Drugs – A Serious
School Problem
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 prep 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.”
Then Lapius turned to
me, morosely, “We are all accessories, aren’t we Harry?”