Chapter Five

The first meeting of FHRP (Franklin Hill Responsible Parents) began after Homer Emerson’s introduction of Grace Phillips to the group of chattering and generally cordial adults. Grace saw more than a few faces she might have recognized from her own middle school years. The children were still educated in the same school she had attended, a bland beige brick building with faded gold lettering above the doorway and the cornerstone commemorating 1967 laid near the newly poured wheelchair ramp. The middle school annex was attached by a covered breezeway to the elementary school on one side and the high school on the other. It was a large complex for a town the size of Franklin Hill, but the elementary school remained unchanged from years past.

As Grace entered the building, the smell of chalk, old oak and freshly waxed floors assailed her. She was a child again, following Ellie down this same corridor, Katy alongside, holding Babe’s hand, all of them ready for the wonder of a new school in their new life with Granny Stillwell.

Lemuel Prosser and his wife Rita were handing out fundraising packets with business cards advertising their real estate agency carefully included. A little free marketing for the cost of printing the packets and the time spent making sure every harried grade-school mother received one. Lem bumped into Grace and apologized, welcoming her effusively, his short round wife adding “Oh, Grace, Homer really needs you! We really need you!” flashing Grace a brilliant smile. She was immediately interrupted by another Franklin Hill Responsible Parent, who rudely brushed the woman aside to speak to Grace.

“We trust you aren’t involved in any illicit computer activity. We would prefer not to put the children through another scandal, as occurred with Miss Pyle, our former assistant, and her amour.” Nola Brayton’s look was hard metal as she pretended to smile, shook Grace’s hand, and began the true purpose of the meeting: her pointed remarks. “We have higher standards to maintain here in Franklin Hill, for the children’s sake. Upbringing and daily exposure to the right class of people, particularly administrators, is paramount.” She gave Grace a slight once-over, pausing for effect. “Family background, I find, is so very important.”

Nola had been, since her own days at Franklin Hill R-I, someone who “stirred the pot.” She was a woman so thin you could see the bones move under her skin when she spoke. The exaggerated tan of a tanning booth had aged her artificially to a suede-brown color, contrasted by the careful streaks of peroxide in her unnaturally blonde hair.

Grace had a hard time justifying that gentle phrase “stir the pot” instead of stating fact. Nola was a trouble maker, plain and clear. There would always be a few, and Nola apparently had assumed the post in Franklin Hill. Nadine Pyle, Homer’s former secretary, and newly-minted Las Vegas bride, had been one of Nola’s best friends in high school. Apparently that friendship was over.

Grace plastered a smile on her face and knew that it did not reach her eyes. “Franklin Hill is a wonderful school district. The children seem to be getting along quite well academically, for the most part.” She didn’t add the thought that statistically, the students from the affluent side of town fared much better than those from poorer homes. While this wasn’t unusual in any district, urban or rural, offers of tutoring had failed to engage the not-so-well-to-do children. She and Homer Emerson had agreed to discuss outreach to the needier students once Grace got settled in her position. Better to keep that information under her hat until the school board meeting.

“Well, the parents will certainly be watching over the office more closely now.” Nola attempted to lighten her comment, possibly thinking better of her tone, “You’ll have plenty of help every single day in the office, to counsel the children and weed out troublemakers.”

“I see. Something to look forward to,” Grace responded coolly as she turned away, resisting the urge to hum along with the song in her head, Jeannie C. Riley singing Tom T. Hall’s ode to the joys and hypocrisy of public education amongst the small minded.