Read An Absence of Principal Online
Authors: Jimmy Patterson
An Absence of Principal
An Absence of
Principal
Jimmy Patterson
and
Tom S. Morgan
iUniverse, Inc.
Bloomington
An Absence of Principal
Copyright © 2012 by Jimmy Patterson and Tom S. Morgan
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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ISBN: 978-1-4759-3946-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3947-7 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3948-4 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912886
iUniverse rev. date: 7/26/2012
Contents
T
om S. Morgan wishes to thank his wife, LaVerne, the “mover and shaker” of the Garrison Trask series, and proof-reader extraordinaire, Euda Lee Kemper.
Jimmy Patterson wishes to thank his Uncle Bill Patterson, who taught Jimmy his love of the written word and showed him how moving writing could be. Uncle Bill died June 17, 2012. Jimmy also wishes to thank his Aunt Loretta, Euda Lee Kemper, his wife Karen, children Jennifer, Kelsey and James, and all their family friends at St. Ann’s Church in Midland, Texas.
B
eau Martin lifted his glass of sweet tea and, proposing a toast, congratulated the Man of the Hour.
“To our recipient this year,” Martin said. “Your professionalism, caring for children, ability to work with others and love for family is an inspiration to us all. Your dedication to seeing that not just your school but all schools in Midland, Texas, are the best they can possibly be, we thank you and we honor you tonight.”
Doggett found himself humbled and helpless as he took a drink. The heaping of praise continued. He didn’t know whether to blush or stick his chest out, but he was fairly convinced that he had successfully wrestled the title of the luckiest man on the face of the earth from the long-departed Lou Gehrig.
“Without the dedication and devotion you have shown to your school, this night would not be possible,” Martin continued, “and so, on behalf of the teachers and administrators of the district, please accept this honor which you so richly deserve, Mr. Ben Doggett, Principal of Stephen F. Austin Elementary and Midland Schools’ Administrator of the Year.”
Applause erupted in the ballroom for the man as widely admired as any in Midland, save for the sheriff of the county, himself a fan of Doggett.
The respected principal walked humbly to the stage, waved to the crowd of friends, and offered Superintendent Martin his trademark soft, clammy handshake, maybe the only thing about Doggett that unsettled his peers.
Doggett took his statuette, a small faux gold piece forged at a local sign company for $49.95 two weeks earlier. It bore an inscription that read, much to his disappointment, “In Doggett pursuit of academic excellence in our schools.”
Doggett often softly chuckled when people used his last name as a pun instead of the correct ‘dogged pursuit.’ He had grown rather weary of the play on words over the years, but on this night, given the occasion and the room full of friends he was among as he was receiving such a great honor, he didn’t mind it at all, but still rolled his eyes to himself.
Though complicated, Doggett was also a man of high character and morals. He was active in his community and, to a lesser degree, his church for as long as anyone could remember, and it was obvious he loved not only everyone around him, but was even more devoted to his wife and family, who loved him back just as much. He sat with anticipation, wondering who this year’s lucky recipient would be, and then it was his name called, and the utter surprise and shock shone through. His reaction was believable and his ‘Aw, shucks, who me?’ walk to the podium was sincere. No one would have ever guessed that Doggett had an arrogant self-centered bone in his body. Simply because he didn’t. His career was filled with examples of self-sacrifice, from bringing lunches to underprivileged students in the school to working late or for a teacher who had called in sick. Neither was it beyond him to attend a faculty meeting when a vice principal had to be suddenly called away. Simply put, Doggett would do anything for anybody. His character was unquestionably high, traits instilled in him by his Southern Baptist preacher father when Ben was a boy growing up in Tulsa. His father demanded the very best of his son and that he be courteous, kind and forgiving to everyone.
Doggett had once passed up a job opening as principal of a local fine arts campus in Midland because he felt the other person applying for it had more appreciation of and understanding for the arts than he.
“Mr. Doggett, I don’t know what to say,” the humbled job winner said after learning of the circumstances surrounding her being awarded the principal’s position at the nationally-honored Roy Orbison Magnet School.
Doggett waved off her show of appreciation politely.
“Don’t say anything, Melanie. You deserve the position. Anyone with a background on Broadway and in Midland Community Theater shouldn’t miss out on this kind of opportunity just because they’re a few hours short in the admin department. You are the kind of person who can lead young people into this form of artistic expression. Not me. I’m a numbers guy. You go in there and be the role model you are supposed to be for those kids.”
The stepping down from his pursuit of the principal position was a favorite story of people in Midland education circles. Most people found the event to be typical of Doggett’s selfless personality.
When he accepted his award from Superintendent Martin, his acceptance speech was trademark short.
Don’t want to bore
, he thought to himself.
Just a quick thank you from the bottom of my heart, and
I’ll be moving right on. No need to wear out my welcome.
“Thank you, friends. I am honored and humbled. And I am determined to be back here next year to pass this cherished memento on to someone more deserving than I,” he said, and everyone broke out into applause as he nodded and figuratively tipped his cap to the full room.
Doggett’s knack for gentle, self-deprecating humor was exceeded only by his integrity and reputation in the community, in and out of his own elementary school and at central office where all the administrators knew everything about everyone.
Doggett was nothing if not humble, and had been all of his life. His wife Angela and their twin 16-year-old children sat in the crowd, proud of the man who was their leader at home. Calmly wiping away a drop of a tear with the knuckle of her index finger, Angela quietly hoped her emotions had gone unnoticed. As humble as her husband was, she was private and seldom showed any emotion, either in public or at home. She hugged her Ben when he returned to the table. She said nothing, but noticed that he had forgotten to thank her and the kids on this evening, something he’d never forgotten before. He always put the three of them at the front and center of his universe and was quick to tell others of how nothing would be possible without his family.
They gathered around Ben’s door like a subdued crowd at a Justin Beiber concert. One by one the principal’s coworkers and staff at Sam Houston Elementary filed in to give him his attaboy, high five, fist bump or the occasional, more traditional handshake or hug, followed by a “We’re proud of you!”
Doggett took it all in with his trademark reserve and humility. He was the real deal. Anything he had he earned either through hard work, a strict upbringing or his unflappable character. He was at the pinnacle of his career and he understood his value to others.
“Congratulations, boss man.” Tony Nail, a coworker, stuck his head in the room and flashed a thumbs up. “God bless you and the work you do.”
Doggett, who was on the phone with the superintendent when Nail slipped in, lip-synced a thank you and returned a thumbs up, as well as a humble, gentle smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Martin, that’s very kind of you,” Doggett said, sitting down at his desk. “An extra three days off with an all-expense paid cruise to the Caribbean is not necessary, but how could I turn down such a wonderful gesture from the district? Give my thanks to the school board, and please extend to them my sincere appreciation for the wonderful job they are doing as well.”
Doggett hung up the phone as his personal assistant and secretary, Shanna Turner, peeked her head in the door.
“Coffee, Mr. Doggett?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you, Shanna,” he said.
His phone rang again, something it had rarely stopped doing since the banquet the night before.
“Good morning, honey,” Doggett said to Angela. “Quite a morning, yes. No, no. Always have time for you, sweetheart.”
Shanna returned with his coffee and set it on his desk with a smile and a wink. She patted him gently on the shoulder and made her way back to her desk.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. Let’s meet for lunch today. Wall Street? 11:30? Have to beat the lunch rush in this town, y’know?”
Doggett hung up and leaned back in his chair. Life was good. His wife loved him. He was about to be a grandfather, he had a great relationship with his son, and he was well respected by his peers at work.
Ding.
A message popped up on his Macbook.
“Hey there, Cowboy, how about a nice spin of the wheel?”
Doggett looked at the image on his computer, a small arrow on-screen, inches away from the word “OK” in the box. He knew what OK meant.
“Ah, what the heck,” he mumbled to himself. It’d been several days since his last hand. Besides, after last night, he had earned it.