"Harvard Comes To Montana", Chapter Seven
By Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, Friends Of Jeff;
I hope your week has gone well!
Nothing too new or exciting happening here, for which I'm actually grateful. I've been reading some great stories on nifty, and I'd like to point out a few to you, for your consideration. By William Marshal, there are two complete, one-chapter stories that are worth every second of your time. Please check out "A Shelter From The Cold" and "Cedar And Musk". For a shorter series, you might find "Men Of Honor" by Casual Wanderer interesting.
Of course, I very much appreciate you reading this and "Seduced By The Sea". More to come for each story.
For now: Be Kind, Be Good, Be Happy.
Griz
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
We drove back, his hand in mine the whole way. Oh, yeah----all five blocks. At five miles per hour. Little town, big county. We pulled up to his grandparents' house, and he invited me in. I was well ahead of schedule for returning to the farm, so I accepted happily. I liked his grandparents, and loved this house. Tall, pitched ceilings, walls and floor, all wood. Only big rugs; no wall-to-wall carpeting to hide those incredible, honeyed wood grains of oak and maple.
Mrs Taylor offered us drinks again, only this time with a scoop of ice cream added. Like I'd say no' to that! Mr Taylor was on the phone, but he waved when he saw us. Drinks in hand, Marc and I walked out with Marc's grandmother to the front yard of their house. A car pulled up and a man in his mid-50s or so stepped out. Oh, yeah! Mr B! He waved and called out to Mrs Taylor, using her classroom name'. Marc and I moved into the garage so I could look at the truck.
"Emil Boldonovic! You know my name is Naomi!"
"I KNOW, but I struggle to accept it's okay to call you that! You were `Mrs Taylor' for so long!"
"Are you saying I'm OLD, Emil?? Choose your next words very carefully, Young Man!"
We all laughed. Marc continued pointing out different tools and things to me in the garage that would not be going with his grandparents. While they looked around, they could overhear the visitor and Mrs Taylor. I knew `Mr B' from when he was the principal of the junior high school, not even seven years ago.
"Naomi'----see, I said it! Happy now?---I was just driving past on my way to meet my grandkids at their mother's house. I saw you and wanted to say hi, and to tell you---again---that this school district will never see another educator in your league. You made me love teaching, myself; and then principal, and then superintendent. Every day has had challenges, but the joys were always greater.' You said that at your retirement breakfast. You were right."
"Emil, you're too kind. I'm proud to have got your feet wet in teaching, but the rest? That was all you. Has the school board found your successor yet? What can I get you to drink?"
"Oh, no thank you.....I'm taking the kids for ice cream soon. In answer to your other question: No. The applicants have been less than strong on their resumes. They don't need a doctorate, but yes, a Master's, preferably in Education. I can't stay; doctor's orders. I gave my notice three months ago. It's not their fault they haven't hired one, although I think I'd stretch the net wider and search out of state."
"Oh, dear.....well, someone on the board can at least act in the position until a permanent candidate is hired. People don't realize it, but the job isn't really for the teachers or the school board; a superintendent is there for the ultimate benefit of ensuring the kids are getting the best education possible."
"Naomi, I wish more people thought that. One person asked me at the store the other day if a superintendent of schools is even necessary; that `any centralization of an organization, particularly a government-funded one, is inherently socialism'. There aren't enough hours in the day.....oy! Let me ask you, Naomi; would any of the principals be a good candidate, do you think?"
"I've known all of them. Since you asked, I do not think any of the five would be a good choice. Each of them sits back and leaves the work for your office to do. Have any of them even applied for your job? Fresh blood, Emil; that's all we can hope for now.
I'll tell you who I would hire right now, if I were the school board and wouldn't be accused of a `conflict of interest'; that handsome young man over there. My grandson. Marc, join us, please. I want to introduce you and brag about you to Emil Boldonovic, Superintendent of Public Schools in Lewistown."
We walked out from behind two big racks of tools, and Marc approached his grandmother. The two men shook hands and extended pleasantries.
"Marc is an associate professor of History at Harvard University, Emil."
"You are?! Which area of history?"
"American Colonialism. Not Europe's coming here, but of the government's expansion off these shores. I find it fascinating that it occurred when the United States was still such a young country. Those decisions influenced commerce, military, immigration; everything. And just as commerce, military, immigration and everything influenced decisions to imperial behavior. Sorry.....get me started, and I'm not easy to stop."
Superintendent Boldonovic smiled and asked,
"History was my subject, both in college and teaching in high school when I returned here. Western Expansion history. Not that different from you own; just mine was on these shores, and yours skipped the ponds. What brings you to Lewistown?"
"I'm here to help my grandparents get ready to move."
Mrs Taylor beamed at Marc. It was kind of adorable, if I'm being honest. The Sun clearly rose and set on him for his grandparents.
"Emil, Marc has published three books already, AND has his PhD. If your school board could find someone even close to him and his talents and skills, this would be a school district like no other."
Marc smiled, but turned just a little red.
"Naomi, we should be so lucky to get an applicant even one-third as qualified. Marc, do you teach many courses at Harvard?"
"No, Sir. Just two per day right now. I'm limited in what I can do until some of the tenured professors retire. I'm also the Chair's assistant, which fills up my empty time. I'll admit, I like working with her to analyze the following year's professor roster and the classes they intend on teaching, and juggling things around."
"Ohhhh.....so you do administrative work, too?"
"Not much. I wanted the responsibilities to see what is involved in organizing and executing the behind-the-scenes work of a university department. That's all we are; just a department. Even Hallowed Harvard University doesn't have a College Of History. Probably for the better; I imagine if there were one, First Year studies for everyone would be the history of Harvard!"
All three laughed, while I occupied myself with eyeballing the beautiful old truck some lucky collector would buy. Among MY talents and skills, though: looking at one thing and listening to another. The Grown-Ups were having an interesting conversation, which continued.
"Marc, you're not tenured? Are you on track for that?"
"No. I'm only in my fourth year teaching. I got the job, I think, only because I got my post-graduate degree there, and the chair had read my books, one of which was in the curriculum for a freshman class. The next year, the class was mine. I feel arrogant using my own book in the classroom, but the Chair insists. I also am outlining another book, which will be about American History pedagogy. Teaching is one thing, but our history here is so new, we're lacking consistency in how it's taught, from elementary school to post-graduate studies."
Both Mr B and Mrs Taylor just stared at Marc, and then each other. Clearly Marc's grandmother did not know this small but not insignificant detail of what Marc gets up to in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Mr B was almost shaking his head, looking like he was trying to believe if Marc was for real.
"So, you want to write a college History textbook about the teaching of History in college.....do I have that right?"
"You do. I know, a Fool's Errand, if ever there were one. I really feel history is as important to American kids as other essentials, particularly now when so much of the curriculum is being erased or White-washed in a growing number of school districts."
"Marc, I feel as you do. We have not had to resist that here, but I suspect the matter will rear its ugly head one day. And I want a signed first edition of that book when you publish it. Harvard must be incredible. I've only ever been on campus. Do you like teaching there?"
"To be candid, yes and no. Yes' because few people know how the United States came to have its 50th state, for example. No' because I've yet to meet one student who has said, `I want to be you when I graduate'. Mine is an elective class; something to fill the credit requirements toward law or medical school. Please don't misunderstand; this is an amazing opportunity, and I'm grateful to have it. And I'll make sure you get the first book off the press."
"Family man, Marc?"
"My family are right here, and soon to not be here. Otherwise, it's just Patty, Maxine and Laverne and me. They're my three houseplants."
The superintendent stepped just millimeters closer to Marc and pulled his card out of his pocket.
"Marc, indulge a retiring administrator for a moment. This school district is healthy, and supported strongly by tax dollars. Our teachers and students want for nothing. The voters passed a bond measure last year to replace the four elementary schools and to buy new buses. Our high school is only ten years old. The physical plant is, or will be soon, in perfect shape. I have some very talented teachers who are in the job for the love of teaching. I might need to look for principals eventually, but I think they're resting on their laurels. They might just need an attitude adjustment."
"I understand that, but I'm not following your lead, Superintendent. Are you asking if I know anyone who would want to move into your job?"
"First, call me Emil. Second, I don't want `anybody', Marc. I want you."
All action, including breathing, stopped for the four of us. I was still (barely) minding my own business. This conversation was taking on epic proportions. Mrs Taylor looked like she just heard she was on the short list for the Nobel Prize in Underhanded Academic Finagling. Mr Boldonovic smiled and pulled another card out of his pocket, turned it over and wrote something in pencil on the back. He handed that to Marc, too, who was probably for the first time in his adult life without something to say. His mouth was open, looking at the superintendent as if he'd just beamed down from the Enterprise.
"Sir, I'm 29 years old.....I'm....."
"Probably overqualified, at least academically, Marc. But not really. Maybe you don't have a lot of administrative experience, but this isn't Chicago or Boston school districts. Your resume is indisputably the envy of anyone looking for the same position at any school district in the state. We have fewer than 850 students across K - 12. Our lunch program is one of the best, and we discreetly provide 35 lunches at no cost to children in need.
We never have snow days here, so there's no extending the school year to make up for time lost. I have nine teachers at colleges and universities right now, going for their MAs. People live in Fergus County because they want to. Teachers here teach because they want to. And if you'll look at the back of this card, you will see the salary range for the Superintendent of Public Schools for Lewistown School District #1."
Marc was still just looking at Mr Boldonovic, but reached to accept the card. Marc looked down and flipped the card over. He said nothing, but just stared for a few seconds. He returned his stare to Mr B (as we mostly all called him, anyway). Mrs Taylor's eyes were moving back and forth between the men like she was watching a fast round of Ping--Pong, and a smile on her face about to break it apart. I was quickly putting two and two together, but between you and me, I was doing far simpler arithmetic, and far too soon: I was putting One and One together. You get me.....
"Mr Boldonovic, I....."
".....will think about pursuing this, Marc?"
"Ummm.....yes, I will think about this, Sir.....but...."
Mrs Taylor reached for him and put both her hands on the sides of his face.
"But WHAT, Marc? Are you worried about finding a place to live? I know two old people who'll make you a great deal on an old house----one that's even furnished. Are you concerned about transportation? They'll throw in an old truck in pristine condition. Do you think you won't know anybody? You know Jeff! And you know Lu Barney! Trust me, Dear Boy; everyone in the county has already heard about you! I understand you have at least one real and significant concern, and I respect that, Marc. Your grandfather and I have always respected you. Please talk more with Emil. I mean, Superintendent Boldonovic."
"I think I will, Grammy; but this is a lot, and very sudden. I have a lot to think about. I'll need.....a few days. That would give me time to think of questions and concerns."
"Do you golf? I do. We could go play nine holes, or if you'd rather, we can still go out the course and sit out at a table under their huge oak trees and talk. Lunch is on me. How's Friday?"
"I golf, Sir; but I didn't bring clubs. Um, lunch would be fine, Sir. If I may ask one question now, though?"
"Of course."
"Why in such a natural resource-rich county are there 35 children in need? The entire population of Fergus County is 15,000. Lewistown is 5,000. That's 35 too many, by my estimation."
"And I'd agree with you. I'll be honest: when we fail to provide an education that people want to get, they don't pursue life-advancing career choices, and end up working two part-time minimum wage jobs in town, living in old apartments in what used to be the hotels above shops downtown. They have children, and it has then become a cycle. Those who can afford to get out, will. Those who don't.....we do our small part to make sure at least their stomachs have food in them, perhaps the only one they'll have all day, so they can focus in class."
Marc frowned slightly while hearing the answer and explanation. He told me later that he wasn't dissatisfied with Mr B; just the conditions for employability in town. This was not a statistic I knew until then. On one hand, I was bothered by the lack of work opportunities here. On the other, I was happy that the school board was handling the most basic of necessities to residents here: a hot lunch, every day, for any student who wanted it.
Marc thanked Mr B, but responded that he doubted 35 was the exact number of kids who are hungry.
"Those are just the ones whose parents admitted to having that need for their kids, Emil."
Mr B acknowledged that Marc saw the bigger picture of the problem, and thought that would only add to his aptitude for the job as superintendent. They negotiated a time for lunch on Friday, and Superintendent shook hands with Marc and me, and thanked Mrs Taylor. Before leaving, he turned and walked back to me.
"Jeff, I'm sorry about your father's death. Your name has been in this community longer than Fergus has actually been a chartered county. This loss will be felt. I am not a farmer, but I always attend Grange meetings, because I know farmers and ranchers send their kids to my schools. What affects their parents affects everyone."
"Thank you, Sir. My family and I appreciate that. And if I may, Sir; I'm still a kid here, fresh out of 11 years of being a student. I've known Marc only briefly, but we've talked about his work, and I've talked about the county and the schools here, from my experience. I personally feel your idea is perfect, all the way around. I will keep my fingers crossed for you, every kid and teacher, and everyone else in the county."
All three turned to smile at me, although Marc was red again. Mr B said goodbye, got in his car and drove off, waving and honking. He was in the right place at the right time to meet Marc Taylor, just like I was.
I saw Mrs Taylor wait until Mr B's car had turned the corner, and then threw her arms around Marc's neck. She hugged him and didn't let go. Been there, done that, Mrs Taylor; but not enough. Mr Taylor came out of the house to find out what all the honking was about. For the next five minutes, Mrs Taylor talked non-stop about what just happened. Marc turned red all over again, and Mr Taylor just smiled broadly and pulled Marc into a hug, too.
Without having been told about Mrs Taylor's offer to sell the house and truck to Marc, Mr Taylor went right ahead and offered the same thing. Once he realized he was late with that, we all laughed.
I took that opportunity to smile, say goodbye and get to my truck. Mr and Mrs Taylor said goodbye to me and stood on the sidewalk in front of their house. I could hear Mrs Taylor say, "YIPPEE! Oh, Rod!" Marc and I laughed as we stood by the driver's door of my truck.
"Marc, you know I understand what is happening here. This might seem small potatoes to you, this town and this job potential; but to us, to the schools and kids, nothing could be bigger potatoes. I didn't realize the search for Mr B's replacement was dead-ending so badly. I don't think he was saying at all the school board is desperate; they'll continue to search. I will tell you this, and I believe you know I'm sincere: I would personally love you living here."
"Wow, Jeff.....this is all.....overwhelming, really. I committed to talking with the superintendent, and I look forward to that. I will tell YOU this: the salary range at its upper end pays what I make at Harvard. He wasn't kidding when he said this is a well-funded school district."
"Does that reduce your concerns about the job, about living here and doing it?"
"It reduces them, but doesn't eliminate the few that remain. I have a lot of thinking to do, Jeff.....but on the surface? Yes, I would interview for this job. But that's just with him; the school board still needs to get involved."
"They do, and they have already; this search has been going on since February. Mr B announced his retirement officially in June, but the school board knew earlier, and had already been looking. They're past ready to accept and interview a strong candidate, Marc."
"Oh, so I WOULD be a convenience, is that what you're saying, Cowboy?"
"Nope, Smart-Ass. I know I'm just a kid, Marc; but those five people won't know what hit them when they see your resume and meet you. Also, Mr B is well respected here, and if he likes you---which he obviously does---the school board will see your virtues, too. I know if I were on that board, I'd have my mind made up about you within the first ten minutes of listening to you. I'd have only one question: `Why would a thrice--published author, triple degree-holding Harvard professor want to leave that highly esteemed career and live and work in Fergus County?'"
"Are you asking me that now, Jeff?"
"I am. And you know, school board member or not, I'd like very much to hear that answer."
"Kids and crops can grow and thrive here in the right conditions with the right nurturing, time and patience. Growing more of both is a right and a responsibility, and they have to be taken seriously, with our eyes on the Big Picture, always. I think more could grow here too, Jeff..... It just takes inspiration, desire and persistence to create something stronger and better than its parts."
"You're hired, Marc Taylor, PhD."
I didn't care. I pulled him into a hug and held on for a moment. Marc chuckled and hugged me back. I could see over his shoulder that Mr and Mrs Taylor had been standing at the garage door, not 15 feet from us. Mrs Taylor and Mr Taylor both were smiling, and Mrs Taylor squealed just a little again.
"Marc, that was perfectly said, if you believe it. Do you believe it?"
"Yes, Grammy; I do. I can't go anywhere at Harvard for many years yet to come. Those students don't care about a class they don't have to take to become a doctor or lawyer. Kids here aren't yet expected to know what they want to be when they grow up, and they are excited for everything that comes across their desks. Grammy and Grampy, Jeff; I will interview for the job, and with the hope that I'll be hired. I will always be known as having been an Associate Professor of American History at Harvard University, but it's not all I'll ever be."
Mr Taylor actually applauded.
"Marc, this is the best day in forever. Jeff, stay for dinner! Pork ribs!"
We smiled at them, but I declined, I hope politely. I explained we still had a lot to do for tomorrow. They understood, but soon resumed their broad smiles. They were giggling as they walked back into the house for probably the tenth time today.
I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.
"I already told you I need to talk with you about my future. If you want to talk with me about yours, we will have a right interestin' conversation."
"I can hug you here but I can't kiss you. And I so badly want to kiss you right now. THIS is one of my concerns, Jeff. Will I have to deny an important aspect of myself? That has to be weighed carefully."
"I get that. I'm not `out' officially, but my closest friends know. Probably more than just them. My family here know. But this is conservative Central Montana, still. Marc, I truly know what you're thinking. And it is a big deal. We can cover that more when we get together and talk."
"When do you want to?"
"Friday you have your, let's be honest, first interview. Wednesday is all about Dad. Thursday is the opening of the fair, and I have to get Sebastian----and you---in there at 5:30AM. We could talk then, but you won't have talked with Mr B yet. I'm going for Saturday. That's when Tom and I were going to rope, but that's off now. Oh, I can introduce you to my best friend, and him to you! We can watch some of the rodeo, walk around on the fairgrounds, eat a burger and cotton candy, and find someplace to enjoy the evening air and talk."
"That's perfect, Jeff. We'll talk until then, of course. I will start making a list of my questions."
"Another similarity between us. I've been making my list of questions and concerns since yesterday morning, about my future. Until tomorrow, Marc; I want to get home. Lots of work to do there today.
"And I need to get inside. My grandparents are in there vibrating. Talk later?"
"Later, Marc. I'm excited for you. An off-hand comment from Mrs Taylor, proud of her grandson, turns into a not-very-subtle job offer."
"Later, Jeff. Thank you."
I drove away, also waving and honking. What did I just witness? First my brother wants to leave his teaching job and return to the farm, and now Marc is actually considering something along the same lines? Is there something in the water affecting the tourists?
What is happening in my county and my life? And can I have more of it, please?!
I got the things Anders wanted, appreciating his initiative to inventory the vet supplies. Yeah, we'd make a great team, actually. Smiling and cranking Pantera's `Cowboys From Hell', I drove out of town right at 10AM. The whole day ahead of me, so many little but important things finished, and all I had now was time until I slept to be with my mom and brother. I knew Dad would plan an entire day in his mind, right down to ten-minute intervals, and try to stay within those allotments. Often, he succeeded. I would work toward doing the same, but within an hour, not minutes. I'm still an egg; I haven't hatched yet.
Driving past Eva's, I saw my brother's SUV parked the end of the shack. He wasn't in the car! This was.....nice and welcome. If Anders and Eva were talking, then maybe they could resolve their mutual hurt of the past several years. Anders and Dad wouldn't get that opportunity. That Anders would even consider leaving academia to return here and work, though.....that's something Dad would've loved. Well, it can happen now. At least it looks that way. We still have to discuss it with Mom. She knows about August, but not beyond. It's not to ask permission as much as to make sure it's not too much for her to bear in such a chaotic July.
I got back in time to see three of the Hutterites' vehicles, in from King Colony to see Mom, no doubt. They were pulling off the property as I prepared to turn in. I waved at all of them. We were friends with Hutterites on King and a few other colonies. Amazing farmers and ranchers, and good businessmen. Rarely did a Hutterite go to the bank except to deposit money.
My face hurt from incessant smiling. Marc might hire on with the school district??! Damn, I hoped I hadn't hit my head and was lying unconscious somewhere, just making up a fantasy in my noggin. Once parked, I went into the house. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table where several chairs from the dining room had been located. Looks like everyone had sat. The counters were piled high with food prepared and brought out with the Hutterites. Mom wasn't smiling, and in fact looked a little uncomfortable. My own smile subdued substantially. As in, it was gone.
"Mom, what's up? Worried about where to put all this?"
I motioned with my arm at the bounty of food, particularly one of the biggest hams I'd ever seen.
"No. Help me take it to the fridge and freezer in the barn, though, please."
I gathered up several pounds of likely delicious Farmer Food and carried it out. Mom followed. She was quiet as we walked across the barnyard. I wondered if she was starting to feel sad and depressed.
We unloaded all the food and returned for more. Yeah, more. LOTS more. Like three people are going to eat what is probably enough to feed dozens. On the last trip back from the barn, I asked Mom what was bothering her.
"Did the Hutterites' visit bring Dad Memories and some sadness, too?"
"No. Well, not really. I knew this would happen, though. I just thought people would give us some time before....."
"`Before' what, Mom?"
"Before they started lobbing offers to buy this farm."
"They did that??"
"Oh, yeah. Look, Jeff.....don't get angry with them. Remember their culture is not entirely like ours. For them, anything good or anything bad are equally black or white. No shades of grey'. Strike while the iron is hot'-mentality. So, that's what they did. They were polite and didn't ask outright. Eli said, `we're not here to get you to do anything right now. All we want is to let you know IF you decide to make changes in ownership of this farm, please discuss it with us first. That's all.'
I thanked them all for coming, and said nothing about their offer. I stood up, and they caught on right quick that their visit was over. They were in and out in ten minutes."
"Mom, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have guessed some offer would be made so soon, either. I know you don't want me to be angry, but I still think it was bad timing. I wish I'd been here."
"To do what? React like a 17 year old? I don't mean anything bad by that, Jeff. You're a very mature teenager. Always have been a kid mature way beyond your years. But can you tell me you'd have reacted the way I did? We still have to maintain our relationships with our neighbors."
"Well, when you put it like that, then no, Mom; I would not have reacted that way, and so I'm glad I wasn't here, I guess. If I had been, I'd have gone from calm to explosive in seconds, particularly after our conversation about selling. Sorry, Mom.....I don't mean to compound your stress, wondering if I'll fly off the handle."
"Honey, I wouldn't have you any other way. You're in many ways like your father, Jeff; and thinking fast and reacting quickly served him well countless times. It also brought about a disaster or two, right in this very house. Just be careful in future, and when you hear things like what happened a few minutes ago, think from all sides about what's being said. If all you do is silently count to five before speaking, you'll be one up on your dad."
Okay, THAT was beyond curiouser and curiouser. Just how much did I not know about my father? We were together only seventeen of his 55 years. I wondered if I was echoing Marc when I said to myself that I know a lot of History, but not much of my own. Regardless, Mom didn't sell the farm. She was right----at least on the issue of selling, I would've handled this badly, had I been here. Mom was also right about me being so reactionary.
Growing up seems to have begun Sunday morning for me. I was having to decide what I wanted, what I needed, and maybe an introduction to The Gentle Art of Communication and Compromise, as well. I knew I'd bring my own experiences and personality to my job, thrust suddenly on me. No one expected me to be like Dad, except in terms of being a good and honest businessman who kept his word, clean and true. But the past fifteen minutes were proof positive that in addition to everyone around getting to know me, I needed to know myself. No one was going to do that for me.
Suddenly I wanted to be seven years old again, anxious to absorb everything I saw on this farm, and everything my daddy had to tell me.
For the sake of this farm, for what family I have left, how to help both of them grow, for what to do about men in my life and heart----or at least one man:
Please speak to me. I will listen harder this time, Daddy. I promise.