Mark= M         Principal=P

TEASER

P:  (To audience) He was going to be the President some day, I just knew it. Although, our first encounter, Mark’s second week of school, would have made most doubt my prediction.

P:  Say, what’s your name?

M:  Mark.  You’re Mr. Willbert, the Man.

P:  The Man?  Where did you here that?

M: My teacher.

P:  And just who is your teacher?

M:  I don’t want get her in trouble so I pledge the 5^th.

P:  Well, Mark my name is not the Man.  My name is pronounced Mr. Weilert. But, you can just call me Mr. W.  How are you liking kindergarten so far?

M:  Good.

P:  You learning all sorts of new things?

M:  Yes.

P:   How about your ABC’s?

M:  Of course.

P:  Can you tell me….What comes after the letter A?

M: Yep.  (Pause)  eleven.

P:  Like I said, an auspices beginning.  But, as that first year progressed I learned my initial encounter was not reflective of the intellectual prowess contained within Mark.

END TEASER

P:  So, Mark your teacher said you HAD to see me?

M: Yes.

P:  Well…..?

M: The boy’s bathroom doesn’t have a door.

P:   I know Mark.

M:  But, I talked with Beth and she said the girls do.  They do have a door.  I haven’t looked or anything but Beth knows all her capital and lower-case letters so I think she’s reliable.

P:  I know about the door Mark and Beth is telling the truth.  They do have a door.

M:  How come we don’t?

P:  Well, Mark that’s ….(Interrupted)

M:  Dad used to yell when I went number two with the door open.

P:   ….a very good question….

M:  Thank you.

P:  The truth is a few years back, some sixth graders kept writing bad words on the door and I couldn’t find out who was doing it.

M: Why didn’t you just make them to tell you?

P:  It’s not that easy Mark.

M:  Why?

P:  It’s just not.

M: Oh……proceed.

P:  (Aside to audience) That’s what I loved about this kid.  What six year old says, “Proceed”?

P:  Well, I pulled all the sixth grade boys into the gym and told them if it didn’t stop, I was taking away the door.  The next day, BOOM.

M:  A bad word?

P:  Exactly; a bad word.  So, I took the door off.

M:  Where are those kids now?

P:  I don’t know…the high school I guess….why?

M:  Cause, I think they’ve learned their lesson.

P:  (To audience) Because of that conversation, I ordered a new door the next day and had it hung by the end of the nine-weeks.  The only acknowledgement Mark ever showed over the new door was a thumbs-up and a big smile as I passed him in the hall just after leaving the bathroom.  The rest of that year we would talk from time to time about what he was learning, the stock market, the weather….

P:  Sure is hot today Mark.

M:  Yep…(Pause) but it’s dry heat.

P:  Oh really?  How so?

M:  (Scrambling to answer) Well….it’s dry….and…see no rain.

P:  Thanks for clearing that up for me.

M:  Not a problem.  (Pause) So, how’s the family?  Wife and kids doing ok?

P:  (Laughing to himself) They’re doing just fine Mark, just fine.

M:  Good, good, glad to hear that. (Pause)

M:  (To audience) When I got to know Mr. W all those years ago, he seemed like a really cool old dude. Of course everyone seems old when you’re in kindergarten.  I don’t even remember what he talked to me about, but I know it made me feel important.   The first conversation I do remember is when I was in third grade, and in trouble.

P:  Why Mark?  I just need to know.  It’s so unlike you.

M:  She deserved it.

P:  They had to take her to the hospital...might be a cracked rib.

M: (Quiet) Oh….

P: I’m going to have to call your parents…

M:  Can’t call my dad.

P:  (To audience)  I misinterpreted that comment as defiance.

P:  (Raising voice)  I most certainly can call your dad young man.

M:  (Calm) I don’t know how, he’s in jail.

P:  (Embarrassed) Oh…then your mom.   You do live with your mom…right?

M:  Yes sir, Mr. W.

P:  Well, then do you want to tell me why you hit Alexia in the side?

M:  (To audience) All those years ago and I never told him the reason.

P: Well?

M: Can’t.  I promised.

M:  (To audience) Alexia was like twice as big as any of the boys.  It was clear she was destined to have a mustache before any of us.  One day she took to picking on the smallest kid in our class, Spud; least that’s what we called him.  And by “picking on him”, I mean she would kick him square in the balls every time she saw him.

P: Last chance Mark.

M:  (To audience) I mean she had skills.  Let’s face it, at eight years old we were talking about a pretty small target.

P:  That’s it then…

M:  (To audience) She could attack from the side…

P:  I’m going to have to suspend you…

M:  (To audience) From behind…

P:  Three days…

M:  (To audience) Dead-on every time.

P:  You wait here.  I’m calling your mom.

M:  (To audience) So, we all felt real bad for Spud but we were all afraid of her.  We were young and maybe didn’t know the full ramifications of what a direct hit might mean to the family legacy but we all knew from our father’s that those were the family jewels and jewels were valuable.  We told him to tell on her, but his dad was the football coach at the high school and he said he couldn’t let him know a girl was kicking his butt.  He made us all swear we wouldn’t rat.  We all promised.  Mr. W never found out.

P:  Your mom will be here in about five minutes.  You sit right here and think about what you’ve done.

P:  (To audience)  I found out from one of the other boys a few days later about what had happened.  Mark had summoned up all his guts…

M:  (To audience) I just snapped….

P:  (To audience)  …and defended his friend.  He stuck up for the little guy.

M:  (To audience)   …I couldn’t believe it.  I saw Alexia’s foot make contact right between Spud’s legs as he was unsuspectingly sipping water from the fountain.

P:  (To audience)   He stood up to her when no one else would; even though it could have meant his own demise. 

M:  (To audience)   The next thing I know, I swung my fist as hard as I could and she fell to the ground crying.  Spud looked up from his fetal position and thanked me.

Both:  (To each other)  She really did deserve it.

P:  (To audience)  By the fifth grade Mark was developing into a fine young man; full of hormones and questions.

P:  You’re lookin’ pretty sharp there Mark.  New haircut?

M:  Yes sir, Mr. W.  Got it at Wal-Mart.  (Whisper)  A woman cut it.

P:  What’s wrong with that?

M:  She wasn’t a beautician or anything gay like that.  She’s what I like to call a (Makes quotes with fingers) “female barber”.

P:  It’s okay if she was a beautician.

M:  She wasn’t

P:  But if she…