“I believe…I believe I hate all of you.” The 300 plus men, women, and children packed into Crane High School’s auditorium sat in stunned silence.  They had come to voice their opposition to the school board’s recommendation that forty schools, including Crane, be closed.  The Principal, Tony Whitmore, was only supposed to welcome the group, say a few pre-screened words, and then introduce CPS President, Barbara Burton, but something had gone awry. 

Principal Whitmore stood tall before the parents, students, union members, and media that packed the small room, and pondered his next move. The one person more stunned by his words than anyone in the audience was Tony. Oh my God! Did I say that out loud? Why did I do that? Please be a dream. Please be a dream. It’s not a dream. I’m going to get fired. Say it’s a joke. Say it. Don’t just stand there, say it’s a Joke, you moron. Say it! The rational part of him shouted in his head. The father of two girls in college implored him to say it also.  But, the husband whose wife of twenty years, was bouncing happily, in the bed he paid for, on the cock of that dead beat bastard who abandoned her with two babies, calmly advised only two words of wisdom: Fuck It.

“I’m not joking. For years I have walked the halls of this school as a teacher and the principal. I have called the parents of bullies and got cursed, threatened and ignored for my troubles. I have seen students walk through our doors in shoes that cost more than my suit, yet somehow qualify for free lunches.”

The crowd slowly began to murmur. They were denizens from the hardest areas of Chicago, and not the type of people to be stunned for long. Much more important than that, the union leaders were bright people, and they could sense where Principal Whitmore’s speech was going.  That was something they could not afford.

“Now wait one minute.” Mr. Trashee stood up. “The Teacher’s Union will not allow you to insult these good, hard working parents.” That was as far as the union president got. Principal Whitmore pointed one finger towards the door and nodded to his chief of security, who rather roughly, picked the little man up and threw him out the double doors.  Days later Tony would ask the big man why he followed his orders, and for the rest of his days he would smile when recalling the man’s reply.

“Is there anyone else who has something to say?” No one did. Tony did not wait for his audience to discover they outnumbered his security staff 100 to 1. “I know life can be tough.  Life isn’t fair. So what!  I grew up on the Southside of Chicago and it was hard. I am one of you, but I am not like you. I haven’t given up.  My parents had nothing. My grandparents, less than nothing, but they wanted their kids to be better than they were. How many of you want that for your kids?” Several people began to affirm that they wanted that for their kids. Tony raised his hand for silence.

“Don’t just say you do. Anyone can do that.” Tony started to walk the stage from left to right, never once taking his eyes off his people. He was focused so much on the brown faces like his own, that he never noticed the cameras of the local media following his every move.
“The Lord said to love thy neighbor as you love thyself, but some of you make it hard.” Murmurs of assent flowed through the crowd. “I should be teaching young girls to be ladies, not teaching pregnant teens to be mothers.”

“Amen,” shouted one old woman.

“I should be writing young men recommendations to college, not probation reports to judges.” Tony pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I should be welcoming kids to school, not expelling them from school.”

Tony jumped from the stage and walked down the center aisle. The spot light that originally was fixed on the podium was now manned by a smiling senior who kept it on his Principal.

“Yes, the board wants to shut us down. They say they don’t have the money to keep half filled schools open. And, you know what? They don’t.” Tony paused. “Let me ask you something. When the teacher’s union went on strike and… you parents… supported their 300 million dollar raise; where did you think that money was coming from? Did you think about it at all? I bet you didn’t. Why would you? You’ve been trained not to. Doubt me? How many of your children receive free lunches? Did you ask where’s that money coming from? How many of you have rent paid by the state? Did you ask where’s that money coming from? When your gang banging sons impregnates your neighbor’s daughters and you sign her up for Food Stamps, do you ask where’s that money coming from? When you go shopping who doesn't ask how much something cost? The kids. Those who are dependent. Independent adults do ask. 

Tony, now standing before the exit looked at his people. “When they announced they were closing forty-six schools, and you all marched down here to demand your daycare stay open. Did just one of you ask:  where will the money to stay open come from?” Silence answered him. “Are you children or adults?"

Former Principal Whitmore dropped the microphone and walked out into the lonely night. He would never work in education again and most of his words were forgotten before he made it home to surprise his wife and her lover. A year later he sits on his porch overlooking the Pacific on the island of Maui with his beautiful new Polynesian wife beside him and thinks: There is no day like the last day of school.