"Under the Bell Jar"

The intercom crackled,  "Ms. Haven, please come to the Principal's office during your conference period."  There was no wait for a reply when the office secretary snapped off the room 102 button.                                                                                
"Ooooo, the Principal,"  jeered her students in mocking fun.  "What did you do Ms.?" 

"Who knows this time,"  she said with her wry wit.  "Who knows? Now back to this Brave New World."
 

Walking down the long hall from her classroom, Ms. Haven honestly didn't know what Principal Primm could want to speak with her about this time. It might be another attempt to get her to pass Gregory, so he could play basketball in next week's game, but she wouldn't do it. He could come in for tutoring and take an essay exam and prove to her that he had learned the lessons like every other student or he could sit in the bleachers. The coach had thought he'd have an easy ride coercing the new first year teacher, but Ms. Haven stood her ground.  Even though she was an avid runner and had been a star athlete in school, she believed education was more important that athletics


Sitting outside the Principal's office she had to fight the memories of time passed. Something about the sternness of the straight chairs and the rigid lines of the photos framed on the wall sent chills down her spine, drawing a lump in her throat. Photos of students past, trapped in the boxes and framed by the small town they grew up in. Population 1200, fifteen churches and one high school, the little community had bred high hopes of escaping, but dashed them all by failing to encourage anything but compliance with the standard rule.


"Ms. Haven," 

"Yes, sir, Principal Primm?" 

"Have a seat Ms."  He hated that about her. She was too independent for his taste and really wished she would spell her name Miss like all the other single teachers. It was a thorn in his side every time he had to say her name.


She sat across from his burled wood desk, a beauty of a piece, far too elegant for a high school, but probably a remnant from pre-plastic furniture days. It suited him well, though it dwarfed him in his suit and tie and over the ears military cut. He was a well loved Principal in the community, espousing their values and holding true to the town's ideals - at least the half with the money. He kept order well enough and peace in the hen house of a teacher's lounge, giving the Good Ole Boy's sons their freedom and keeping the outsiders in line.


"We have a new student in our school today and he has been assigned to your Junior English class. His name is Daniel Sereen. He has been sent to the Alternative School." 

"May I ask what he could have done before ever starting classes to end up there?"  she asked, her curiosity peaked.

"He came to school this morning dressed in girl's make-up and refused to take it off. He did not have a school approved haircut and he demanded to be called Danielle - full of attitude that boy is and we will not tolerate this kind of insolence or queerness in this school." 

"Mmmm, I see,"  she said as calmly as she could muster, feeling in her heart of hearts an anger rising from deep within, a rage awakening after all this time.

"He will remain at the alternative school until he chooses to act normal and looses the attitude or until he fails out of school."

"Have you talked to the parents about this behavior?"

"They disowned him and he is living by the grace of his aunt. She doesn't know what to do with the boy, but she has him in church every Sunday trying to get some sense into him."

Blood rising to her cheeks, Ms. Haven uncrossed her slacks and leaned forward with elbows on knees and asked,  "What do you want from me sir?" 

"I don't want you to send him any assignments,"  he said looking her squarely in the eye.  "I want him to fail out and move on, there is no room for someone like that in My school - in this town." 


-------
Submerged in the soothing waters of the hot bath she heard only breathing and the voices of the past. Not again, she thought, I can't stand by and let another child go to the wayside of this society's idea of normal or right. Stretching her legs against the confines of the white tub, she sat up, wiping her eyes of salty water and looking down at her own body, wishing, even after all this time, still wishing. She reached for the glass of wine, thinking she had to take a stand again, but this one might cost her more than her job in this small town. She pressed her toes into the whiteness of the tub, resolved.
----


The following day she walked the halls hearing the cruelty of the children.  "Have you seen it?" ,  "If that little faggot comes near me, I'll kill him."  Patches of hatred networked across the school grounds and the institute of learning was disrupted by the ever streaming gossip about and curiosity in this foreign child. Ms. Haven would bear it in the hallways, but not in her classroom.


"Since ya'll are so fascinated by our new student, let's talk about this situation." 

The students came to order and faced front, for any time Ms. Haven said,  "Let's talk,"  there were going to be some interesting words and ideas flying about the room.

"Have any of you met Danielle?" 

" His name is Daniel - a boy - Ms. - Daniel,"  said Frank the school's star running back.

"Yes, but Danielle is the preference- what is the problem with calling someone by their preferred name? We call you Frank instead of Franklin. What is the difference?"

" I sure as hell am not trying to be someone I'm not,"  Frank spouted out as he waved his hands about in a girly manner, garnering the laughter of his peers.

"But you are trying to be a super-star football player, which you aren't yet, but you still try to act like one, running the halls like you own them, expecting preferred treatment from the staff, your parents and your friends, don't you Frank?" 

Laughter arose in the classroom as Frank's face inflamed.  "She got you there Franklin,"  Rebecca Mayfield said.

"My point is simple; Danielle is no different from you or me - a human being trying to find a place in this world to live and be free and find success and love. Would you want to be in those shoes right now with the way ya'll are talking? Imagine how that feels." 

"Who would love that?"  Frank had to throw out into the mix.

"Well, obviously not you Frank, but why hate so much when you haven't even met the person face to face to find out if you could be a friend or not?" 

Silence fell across the classroom; every one of them taking a moment to remember the pain of being a new student, the hardship of making friend along the way, the growing pains of life thus far. She could see it in their eyes, for some it was more painful than for others, and said,  "Now imagine if the whole town took out after you with their gossip and hatred?" 

The hush remained in the room and Ms. Haven gave them their assignment.  "Until you each have actually met Danielle face to face, I will hear no more talk or babble, or meanness from you in this classroom or in the hallways. Understood?"

The group came together in acceptance and quietly said,  "Yes Ms. Haven."


Helping her students step back from fanaticism was possible, but changing the ways of the hens in the teacher's lounge was not a reality. Five to thirty year veterans of this war called education had numbed them to anything but pettiness.
Ms. Haven herself was an outsider to them, for she would not partake of the coffee and prating in the little room by the main office. She could not stomach the closed windows as students were passed, one by one, from year to year, with all their foibles and flaws thrown out on the table for the Buzzards to pick through, as if they were nothing but raw meat already ruined. Ms. Haven would not have her perspective slanted by these women, so she chose to eat her lunch in the park with the birds who could actually fly.


And so this day, she took her lunch in the park under the trees, but she did not eat. Instead she blindly chain smoked and dwelled in the rising memory of her own childhood, of Principal's and teachers and classmates and the underhanded force of society's compliance to the Norm.


The sun peaked out from a passing cloud, illuminating the playground equipment and she was there standing small in the midst of a mob of third graders, the new girl in school who looked like a boy in a red gingham dress with short hair and scabby knees. She was shy to the point of awkward in socialization with her new girl classmates, but she tried to get on with a group of boys on the jungle gym. 

"We don't play with girls,"  one thick boy said. 

"I'm not a girl,"  she replied.

"Yes you are,"  he yelled back with utter sureity.

In her mind, she was nothing like a girl. She hated dolls and only wore dresses because that was how her mother made her dress. Secretly, she wore shorts underneath them so she wouldn't show her stupid girly underwear to anyone. She could even pee standing up, just like her brother, but she knew better than to be caught doing it. That only happened once in kindergarten and resulted in her first visit to the Principal's office and to a big talk from mom. But that was the other school and no one knew her secrets here.

With all the challenge she could muster she asked,  "Can a girl do this?"  and she jumped up to the monkey bars and swung across their distance skipping every other bar to the end where she dropped down, turned around with hands out, palms up and said,  "Well?" 

It was the first challenge to their concept of gender, and the boys gathered around, impressed with her ability; even Michael couldn't do doubles. She felt pride at passing her own trial and the acceptance that followed as they took turns attempting doubles on the monkey bars.

From behind the tire swing a lone girl watched; she too was an outsider, but hers was a long standing distance due to an economic speartation. It was cruel, but she had not made any friends in the semester she had been at the school. 

"I can do that,"  she bragged, making an attempt to get in the group's play. 

"No you can't,"  the challenge thrown out as little Heidi Haven would not have her uniqueness challenged and certainly not by a girl.

So the battle ensued and the little girl fell flat on her face slipping off the second bar into the pine needles and leaves and dirt below the monkey bars. Tears followed and the boys, not wanting to be blamed, scattered to the four corners of the playground. The teacher arrived to sooth the tears and the little girl told her that Heidi had made her do it.

The fists of rage tightened by her sides at the untruth and protests of denial did not stop the arm dragging to the Principal's office. The teacher put her arm around the little girl to comfort and she gave a smirk of success directly to Heidi as if to say,  "I won."


The cloud returned, closing off the glaring memory of the playground. Ms. Haven shook off the child's rage, stamped out her cigarette in the dirt and drove back to the school for her conference period.

She gathered up some books, papers and pens, preparing an assignment package for Danielle. She knew if she drove over to the Alternative School during her conference period she would have an hour of instruction time with her, but she also knew there would be more than enough time for her actions to get back to Principal Primm.

Entering the Alternative building, she signed in with the warden and was directed to the desk in the very back of the room, hidden by the dividers used to keep the students from speaking to one another. As she walked through the maze of desks, some students looked up from their mini prisons. Most were sleeping or doodling, but a few actually had assignments to work on.

Ninety percent of them were hispanic or black; they ranged from second grade to seniors. The youngest was a  drug offender  who had brought his father's pot to school for show and tell. She knew these looks well, as many of her students had spent time here for various offenses to the School's Code of Behavior. No other teachers came to the building; instead, they sent the assignments via intra-school mail, if they sent any at all.

The looks were looks of hope that some one of their teachers might come to itervene in the monotony of their cubicle, to explain something of an assignment, to just listen to their pleas of innocence or apology and desire to return to a learning environment. Sometimes upon the realization that she was not their teacher, the looks would become glares of anger, darts thrown to pierce her soul.

She felt a few of the students actually belonged in this prison as their scowls had no expectation behind them, only raw animosity that she could feel crawling on her arms as the hair stood up. They were the few who would never be set free, whose assignments would never show and who would most likely end up in the prison on the edge of town or one just like it.


Danielle was a lanky teen, slumped across the desk with arms and legs wrapped in thin, delicate clothing. Her hair was a mess of greasy waves; obviously she was on the verge of giving up caring about appearances. Ms. Haven tapped her shoulder and she jolted up likea cat awakened from a sleep, quickly grasping to hide the drawings of dresses on the desk. Motioning for her to follow, Ms. Haven led the way to the small conference room away form the peering eyes and ears of the other students and prison monitors. Usually the room was used for parent, probation officer, student conferences.

Danielle walked with head down and hair covering her face, but as she sat down, Ms. Haven could see the smeared make-up of frustrated tears and the dark circles of lack of sleep and a beautiful bone structure that might actually be the jaw line of a beautiful woman someday.

"Danielle, I'm Ms. Haven your English teacher,"  she said, knowing full well that calling her by name would unlock a door with this student.

"Hi,"  she said softly.

"How are you doing?"  she asked in a rush to get this ball rolling. Danielle just shrugged, but she made eye-contact in doing so.  "Have you eaten lunch? I brought you a sandwich." 

Ms. Haven offered it across the table. Danielle's hands were small boned, but much longer and more graceful looking than her own, and yet they moved in a forced manner of gestures and flicks, awkwardly; as if they couldn't decide how to move through time and space.


While Danielle ate, Ms. Haven laid out the plan of assignments for the assessment of her state of learning. She asked about classes taken, books read, essays written and the like, to which Danielle would nod yes or no with very little extra input. Even though she recognized the slight glazing look of tuning out, she completed laying out the goal.

Danielle said,  "What does it matter? I'm outta this hell hole of a town when I turn 18 in three months, and it's not like I'm graduating anyway." 

The gauntlet had been laid on the table.

"Where will you go?" 

"Anywhere but here." 

"What will you do to survive?" 

"Find a man to love me." 

“You know, you must love yourself before love will ever find you.”

The delusions of adolescence picked up pace as Ms. Haven learned that Danielle had no idea about living life - only surviving it and of that she was lacking a few essentials. Some education would have to take place, but it wouldn't be American Literature or anything on the accepted curriculum for that matter.

Not wanting to push too hard in this first visit, Ms. Haven said,  "Well, you have three more months and I have one hour every day. I'll let you think about it for a couple of days and then you can decide if you want to learn anything or not. I'll leave you with the assignment I give all my students on the first day of school. It will help you pass the time if nothing else." 

She stood up and Danielle followed slowly back to her cubicle and sat down with a resignation into the silence again.

Ms. Haven rifled through her briefcase, pulled out a composition book, some pens, a dictionary and a single piece of paper with the assignment.  "I'll see you in a couple of days,"  she said as she quietly walked across the room and out the metal door with the fire lock doors.

Danielle learned back in her chair and picked up the assignment, laughing inside, she thought,  I'll give her a story. 

The paper said write five pages minimum, an autobiography. Remember where you have been, where you are now and where you are going.


Two days later well before school began, to avoid other staff members, Ms. Haven walked her morning way to the teacher’s lounge to retrieve her mail and make copies of the day’s assignment. Glancing down the row of mail boxes she noticed the red sticking out of hers, and her day began with joy for she had won the first battle. 

She picked up the Red Intra-school mail envelope from the Alternative School along with some memos about the next week’s activities and athletic events.  She tucked them all in her briefcase and hurriedly headed to complete her copying chores so she could get back to the quiet of her classroom to read what Danielle had written.

On her way past the main office, Principal Prim stood with arms folded, a glare in his eyes, and waved her into his office.

“Shit,” she thought. “Here we go.”

“Good Morning Principal Primm,” she said cheerfully as she entered and sat down.

“Ms. Haven,” he said with a stiff nod.

She knew he knew she had gone to the Alternative School.  She knew he saw the Red envelope sticking out of her briefcase, and her face inflamed with guilt before he ever said a word, an affliction from youth she never could control.  She didn’t bother to fight it, for that just made it worse, so she set her mind to her task and allowed the adrenalin flush to help strengthen her resolve against whatever tyranny he would propose.

“I understand you’ve been to the Alternative School with assignments for Daniel?”

“Yes Sir, I have,” no sense lying at this point.

“But I told you no assignments.”

“Principal Primm, my job is to educate all of my students.  In three months time that child is going to quit school because no one cares, and I won’t stop being the teacher until that day happens.  You don’t want that child to achieve a degree; don’t worry, I don’t think it is possible when no one else is doing their job.”

“Ms. Haven,” he began with angry defense of his position.

“Principal Prim, I am just doing what I have been hired to do,” she said with finality, as if that statement should end this conversation.

“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt anything if you send assignments, but I don’t like you going over there.”

“Literature and writing are to be discussed, Sir, to make sure that learning is occurring thoroughly integrated in the mind.  I do not have a problem spending my conference time with a student.”

“Well, just see to it that you don’t fall down on your other duties,” he said as if he were back in control of the situation. “Good day, Ms. Haven.”

“Thank you Principal Prim, I’ll do my best to achieve all of my duties, Sir,” she said with a small smile as she walked out of his office, emboldened because she did take a stand with her voice instead of just her actions.


Later that morning, Mrs. Bonnie Geery, a small mindful woman, head of the English Department, and the Junior and Senior AP teacher, came to visit in between classes.  She was Ms. Haven’s mentor teacher, but Mrs. Geery had seen that not much help was needed in the teaching realm. She had, however, become a buffer between Ms. Haven and Principal Primm. 

Mrs. Geery admired her fire, a love of literature and learning and a sense of honor and justice un-compromised by the field.  She remembered well her own passion for the students, but time in the trenches and years in the bureaucracy  had diminished the flames to smoldering coals.

“Boy, you’ve got him all riled up this morning,” she began quickly as time was short between classes.

“Well, what do you want me to do? He’s wrong in telling teachers to fail a student.”

“I know that, but you are fighting a losing battle Heidi, and you know it too.”

“That might be true. Time is short and this society cruel, but I am still going to fight for this student.  Besides I have a possible solution no one has offered her yet,” she said as she picked up the GED testing book off of her desk.

Bonnie’s eyes smiled behind her glasses, “Do you think it’s possible?”

“I won’t know if I don’t try,” Ms. Haven said.

“Well, be discreet about it; he’s talking insubordination this morning.”

“He doesn’t have a leg to stand on in that fight Bonnie and YOU know it”

“Be careful Heidi,” she said as the students began filing in for class, “I’d hate to lose you over this one.”

--

At lunch time Ms. Haven took the Red envelope to the park; the morning had been too busy to peruse Danielle’s assignment.  She sat under her favorite tree, lit a smoke, opened the envelope, pulled out the composition book and began to read.

She had the large bubble writing of many of the girls, easy to read except for the ornamentation of curls and squiggles. She had paragraph structure and a decent vocabulary.  It might be possible, she thought in the back of her mind.  Of course, her real interest lay in Danielle’s story, the why and the wherefore of her state of being.

She read the tale of a small, frail boy born to a proud, stern, working class couple, a boy chastised severely for playing with dolls, for crying like a girl at the drop of a hat, and a boy beaten by a father trying to make a man out of him. 

She read of the loneliness of growing up ostracized from society for being different; friendless, not so much because of the children in the younger years, but by the parents of children who refused to let their child be a part of something sick and queer. Overtime the cruelty born of parents and instilled in those children’s hearts led to atrocities on the playground, in hallways and in the locker rooms of her life.

At fourteen, Danielle had been caught in mother’s closet trying on a dress and that had been the last straw for her father.  She was thrown to the streets and survived for a while in a community of other boys abandoned or fled from their families for their homosexuality, but even though they shared a similar tale, she was never fully accepted by the runaways. 

She had learned to sell sex for survival.  She had enjoyed the human contact, at least it was something like love and being alive inside.  At seventeen, she was picked up by the police for solicitation and her parents were called.  They didn’t want him back, so the Child Protective Services, in all their wisdom, called all the relatives only to find one Aunt willing to take him and raise him at least until he turned eighteen.

Aunt Sarah turned out to be the nicest person in his family, but she was religious and Danielle was going to burn in hell if he did not change his ways. She was at least trying to help with counseling.


Ms. Haven knew the signs and the psychology of gender disassociation issues, but her heart was lifted to read of Danielle’s partial understanding as well.

“The shrinks say I am what I am from an overbearing father and a non-loving mother.  They say the sexual abuse only solidified the problem in my mind, but I know the abuse was not caused by me being a girl inside this body.  The abuse was caused by the sick fucks in my reality.  I did not choose this. Who would? But I am in here and I want to live in a world where I can be myself.  I will find it somehow.”

Ms. Haven sighed upon completing Danielle’s tale.  She had tried to scare her with graphic tales of sex and abuse, but Ms. Haven had seen it already.  The familiarity of the emotions of being “other” sickened her stomach, but the resolve in this child was strong and not yet broken by society, a little rough for the wear, but not broken.

She sat under the tree, pondering her next move with Danielle.  There were definitely two needs in the child she could address, the education and direction of her life and the acceptance of a friendly soul.  She had to be careful how she approached lest she get too close to letting her own truth out.

---
After they moved to the conference room, Danielle said, “I’m impressed you came back after reading my story.  Most people run far away and call in the shrinks.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” Ms. Haven said frankly looking her in the eye.  “Besides we have work to do and I can’t very well help you do it if I stay away now, can I?”

Danielle drew back, unsure of the next move.  Ms. Haven continued, “Has anyone ever discussed a GED with you?”

“No teacher has ever talked to me except to explain the rules that I can’t break and send me to the office.”

“A GED is a General Equivalency Diploma – it’s like a high school degree, but all you have to do is take a test to get it.  Your writing is bright enough to pass the written portion of the exam.  How are your math skills and your reading?”

“I read okay but math is another story. I haven’t been in a math class since middle school.  Why do I need this piece of paper? I know how to get by.”

“Do you really want to sell yourself for the rest of your life? Was it really that easy? That glamorous?  Is it what you’ve dreamed about your whole life?” Ms. Haven shot out seriously to jolt the conversation where it need to go.

“No,” she said defensively. “I dream of being a whole woman with no questions asked - to walk down the street with second glances not to question my sex, but because I look good.”

“Well, if that is your ultimate dream, to achieve it you will need a great deal of money to pay for all the counseling and doctors and hormone therapy and surgery, and that’s nothing compared to the money you will need to house and feed and clothe yourself for the rest of your life.  Have you thought about how much money that takes?  Can you really be on your back that much or even your knees? And still have time to enjoy your dream?”

“Damn, Ms. you sure are up front,” Danielle replied a little shocked at this teacher’s understanding of the gender transformation process and solicitation.

“This is your life you are talking about, you really should take it seriously and make a plan.  Do you really want to trust anyone else to take care of it for you from what you have learned thus far about the word around you?”

“No, I guess not,” she replied with thought, “ but I want to be alive as me and not as what everyone says I should be.”

“Then you should do everything within your power to work towards that goal and that includes becoming educated enough to earn the living you will need to achieve that goal. That also includes knowing when to follow the rules of society for the safety of your own dreams and self. If you are willing, I will help you learn what you need to pass that test.”

Ms. Haven’s time was growing short for that day, so she left Danielle a practice exam to do the best she could with, including instructions to skip over the questions she had no idea how to answer.  If Danielle felt, up to the challenge of working towards her dream, they would begin on Monday.

Ms. Haven left the Alternative School knowing she had given some meat for Danielle to chew on over the weekend.  She wished some teacher along the way had been as bold as herself - encouraging Truth To Self living instead of enforcing the chains of societal norm and status quo.  A great deal of agony could have been saved if someone had just said it was okay to be different.  She knew Danielle could benefit from her own story, but getting herself fired would not be wise self-living.
---

Ms. Haven was eager to get to her conference period that Monday.  She wanted to see how the practice exam went over so she could figure out a plan of attack.  She knew Danielle had worked on it because she had braved out over the weekend and spoken to some of her students at the Sonic.  They had been pleased to tell Ms. Haven that they had met her and she was nice and was excited about the prospects of getting a GED and getting out of town even sooner. 

“We told her you were real cool, Ms., a good teacher but hard too.”  Little boosts to the ego were always nice, and statements like that made Ms. Haven feel like she was on the right track with her students.

In the dungeon of the Alternative School, Ms. Haven noticed immediately the change in Danielle’s appearance; hair washed, clothes clean and tidy, a smile on her face.  It was a good sign.  They sat in the conference room and went over the exam. 

She would have no problem with the verbal side of the exam and even the history questions gave her no problem, but the math was going to be a challenge.  She needed to know basic algebra and simple geometry, and though Ms. Haven knew enough to get by herself, the teaching of it might be beyond her.  She had to find a way to get Danielle back into school; she could take the GED focus course and learn what she needed to know to pass the test.

“How opposed are you to playing by the rules?” Ms. Haven asked.

“What do you mean?” Danielle responded.

“I mean following the dress code so you can be on campus and go to the GED class. No dresses and no make-up.”

“ I can’t.  I wear my clothes and makeup because it is all I have that makes me feel good about me,” she said defensively clutching the sleeves of her blouse.

“Do you remember when I said that sometimes you have to learn to play by society’s rules when it is in your best interest to do so?” Ms. Haven asked, hating that one aspect of life herself.

“Yes, but its not fair,” she whined.

“Who ever told you life was fair?  Life is short and you’ve got to do what you have to do to get what you want out of it.  You want your GED to set you on the path to achieving your dreams. You need special teaching in math, and it is free for the taking if you just follow their rules for a short period of time.  It really is that simple, Danielle.  Sometimes you have to look beyond your wants to fulfill your needs.”

“Principal Primm won’t let me back anyway,” she said taking another avenue of retreat.

“What if I take care of Primm? Would you do it then?” Ms. Haven asked knowing she would have to fight that battle anyway, but Danielle would have to be willing to fight for herself as well or it would be a waste of time.

“Do you really think I can pass it?”

“I believe you can do anything you put your mind to Danielle.”

“Ms?” She asked breaking the quiet thoughts between them.

“Yes?”

“Why do you care when no one else does?”

“It’s just who I am Danielle.  I believe in the potential of dreams and everyone has the power within themselves to achieve their dreams.”

“Yeah, but you’re different than any teacher I have ever met, any person really.  Why care about me?” she said reaching for a reason behind human kindness.

In her mind Ms. Haven saw the opening but could not force herself to go through that door, could not open her heart and release her own struggle with society upon this child. Even though the pain and loneliness were the same, she had to protect her livelihood and would achieve nothing through commiseration. She instead chose to impart the lessons of her endeavors to find herself a place in society.

“I care because you are a human being who deserves a life well lived, if only you will take it.  Your reality is a hard one because of society’s closed mind and simple expectations.  I understand that difficulty, but I also know that for as long as human’s have been around, life has been more relentless for some than for others.  But the measure of a person’s life is how they rise up through the crap to achieve their dreams.  That is why I believe in you and why I want you to believe in yourself - no matter what society says or does to you.  Your life is worth living - so live it. Do what you have to do to live your best life.”

For the first time Danielle stopped dwelling in the misery of her otherness and made a decision to live instead of just fight to be. “Okay,” she said with resolve. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
                                                                                                                       

Ms. Haven persuaded Principal Primm to allow Daniel into the GED class with relative ease.  Her main argument being that he may be rid of the student sooner than expected and yes, of course, the dress code would be followed.

Several weeks passed with normalcy. Danielle would drop in to visit after school every now and then to share her progress and the plans she was laying out for the future. She had been befriended by several girls and was feeling pretty good about life.

Rebecca Mayfield had volunteered to be her peer tutor, and she was learning at a quick pace to catch up for the lost time.  Danielle would be ready for the exam.

One afternoon, after classes had let out for the day, Rebecca came flying into the classroom. “Ms. Come quick. They got Danielle.”

By the time they arrived, the area between the teacher’s parking lot and the field house had cleared out.  Danielle’s transgressors fled, but Frank remained standing back away, scratching one foot in the dirt with his head down. “I tried to stop 'em Ms.,” he said as she knelt down to check on Danielle, face beaten and bleeding.

“What happened?”

“They were just picking Ms, but she stood up for herself and it just kept getting worse. I don’t understand what happened, they just attacked her.”

“Who?”

Frank was quiet then, torn at the actions of the mob and telling on his friends.
Rebecca stepped in to save his dilemma and listed off several football players, ending, “Ms., Frank really did try to stop it.”

Danielle was coming back to around to consciousness to the great relief of Ms. Haven.  Frank helped get her back on her feet and steadied for the walk to the nurse’s office. Ms. Haven looked him square in the eye, seeing his fear from the mob’s actions, the adrenaline rushing through his body from stepping in to save a victim.

“Thank you Frank. Today you became a real man.  You may not feel it right now, but someday you will see it,” Ms. Haven said to him before they turned to walk away, leaving him to absorb the reality of what just happened.

Danielle would physically survive her beating, but it broke her will and her focus, and she retreated into the safety of her wants. She told Principal Primm nothing of her attack and asked to be placed back in the Alternative school.  Without her accusation, nothing was done to punish the boys.  Their cruelty would live on, unchecked and silently accepted by the community leaders, and the cycle would continue for another generation in this small town.

Ms. Haven was frustrated to no end with the situation and the closed door with Danielle.  She had locked down her mind, put her dress back on, covered her bruises with make-up and sat out her time in the quiet prison of the Alternative school.  Her time was almost up and she would be free to enter the real world as herself.

Each conference period Ms. Haven would try to engage a conversation, but the wall would not be broken through.  The following Friday a memo in her box from Principal Prim informed her of Danielle’s disappearance.  Aunt Sarah had called to say his things were gone and that he must have left in the night.

Ms. Haven knew she would not be searched for by the police as a runaway, would not be brought back by a truancy officer. Her work was finished with Danielle and she must harden her own heart to this particular failure and move on.

---

With the cover of night, she stood before the mirror in the bath and began to remove the garments that society said made her a woman.  A glass of wine on the counter by the sink danced a red glow in the shadows created by the candles.  It was time for a calming ritual, a moment of freedom to be self and self alone. 

Her heart ached for Danielle, knowing so well the frustration of not being right in the body and having no where to turn to rectify the angst.  She hoped for a change but had learned it was safer to keep some things hidden from the world.  If they only knew, she thought as she removed the pants and stood back to look at this self reflected in the mirror.  These boxer briefs were a security blanket, like Danielle’s make-up, an object of the other self worn close and protective of a wounded heart.

With closed eyes and an open mind, reaching down to touch the nonexistent him of this self, Ms. Haven released herself to the sorrow of another soul lost to the prison of expectations. The torment of hiding was abandoned in this moment, this candle lit ritual in the shadows.  Tears for the bound ones and tears for herself fell slowly to the floor as she wept for the courage to be free from the cage of normalcy.

Soaking in the white tub, she washed away the tears of weakness, washed off the desires and hoped with all of her heart that Danielle would find the freedom to be herself somewhere in the world.

---
The sky was clear and bright, but the temperature was harshly cold with winds that drove the chill to the core of her body.  Ms. Haven walked from the parking lot to the building pulling her jacket up over her neck to block her ears from the biting wind of the breeze way.  Today was a good day. 

She went about her morning chores, retrieving mail and making copies; no longer dodging the halls in avoidance of Principal Primm, at least until the next battle began.  When the first bell rang, she took her position by the door to monitor the hallways.  The students were unusually quiet this day; they normally were frisky with the cold, like puppies in snow. 

She noticed them walking in small groups, with hushed voices whispering, “Have you heard?” A new gossip was rippling through the school.

Bonnie Geery came across the hall from the English Department office with a news paper in hand. “Have you read this?” she asked seriously as she handed Ms. Haven the paper.

She scanned the article and the bright, clear day turned stormy inside as a black knot filled the pit of her stomach.

               BODY FOUND
         The body of an 18 year old boy, partially clad in woman’s
         clothing, was found brutally beaten and stabbed in a ditch
         off I-20 West. The boy was last seen at a truck stop in San Angelo.
          Investigators  are searching for the suspect. The identity of the
         boy is unknown at this time.

Ms. Haven knew this was the new seed of gossip in the halls, and she knew in her heart that this was Danielle framed in black and grey in the local paper; beaten, abused and unknown to the world.

She clenched her jaw in the face of this reality, grinding her teeth together to stop the emotion from rising.  Bonnie looked away to give her a moment of composure. “They all suspect the same,” she said nodding towards the students in the hall. “And I got the call from Principal Primm this morning that Aunt Sarah ID’d the body.”

Ms. Haven took in a long breath, steeling her nerves, and let it out slowly. “Well, it will be a lesson of life day; I suppose we just use what we are given and educate them anyway we can,” she said frankly, crossing her arms over her chest while hardening herself for the day ahead.

Bonnie reached her hand out and placed it on her shoulder, a gesture of comfort. Ms. Haven said,” I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” as she turned back to her classroom to put away the overhead projector and the assignments. 

Today would not be the first lecture day of the Romantic Era of wonderful human ideals.  Instead she turned on the CD player and filled the room with the ethereal sounds of Enigma, the students favorite writing music.

Rebecca Mayfield was the first to arrive; swollen-eyed and terribly sad she cried, “O Ms.,” as she fell onto her for a comforting embrace. “Why?” She kept sobbing, “I don’t understand why.” 

It was to be the anthem for the day, but Ms. Haven knew she would used it to drive home her lesson of the previous three months.  She knew that Danielle would become the butterfly whose soaring dreams and tragic end would etch forever upon the hearts of these students and be a reminder of the lessons of true character and humanity’s need to rise above violence of the body and the tongue to fly out from under the bell jar.