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    Teacher, Teacher
    Teacher, Teacher
    Teacher, Teacher
    Ebook300 pages3 hours

    Teacher, Teacher

    By John Locke

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    About this ebook

    Beth Conroy: young, beautiful, Tennessee Teacher of the Year—is shocked to learn she’s been accused of sexual misconduct with a student. Facing a scandal of epic proportions, Palmer School retains private investigator Dani Ripper to sort out the truth and protect their interests. The accuser’s mother gives Dani until noon tomorrow to show proof the charges are false, or she’ll call a city-wide press conference to level charges. As Dani begins her investigation she finds herself drawn to Beth, even as the evidence against her is mounting faster than Viagra test rabbits.

    Preliminary Comments:

    I always finish John Locke’s books the same day I start them. He has a way of sucking you in. This novel was no different.

    If you liked Promise You Won’t Tell, you’ll love Teacher, Teacher.

    In another author’s hands, the seriousness of the subject would result in a dramatic, heavy-handed morality piece drenched in political correctness. But John seems to have mastered the art of tackling serious, topical subjects with laugh-out-loud humor, in-your-face energy, and razor-sharp dialogue.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Locke
    Release dateFeb 3, 2014
    ISBN9781940745503
    Teacher, Teacher
    Author

    John Locke

    John Locke kommt 1632 im englischen Wrington zur Welt. Nach dem Besuch der Westminster School in London studiert Locke bis 1658 in Oxford. Zwischen 1660 und 1664 lehrt er dort Philosophie, Rhetorik und alte Sprachen. Sein enzyklopädisches Wissen und seine Studien in Erkenntnistheorie, Naturwissenschaften und Medizin bringen ihm früh die Mitgliedschaft in der Royal Society ein. Als Sekretär und Leibarzt des Earl of Shaftesbury ist Locke in Folge der politischen Machtkämpfe in England gezwungen, ins holländische Exil zu fliehen. Erst 1689 kehrt er nach England zurück und widmet sich auf seinem Landgut seinen Studien. Im selben Jahr erscheint anonym Ein Brief über Toleranz, der die ausschließliche Aufgabe des Staates im Schutz von Leben, Besitz und Freiheit seiner Bürger bestimmt. Die hier formulierten Ideen finden in der amerikanischen Unabhängigkeitserklärung ihren politischen Widerhall. Lockes Hauptwerk, der Versuch über den menschlichen Verstand, erscheint erst 1690 vollständig, wird aber vermutlich bereit 20 Jahre früher begonnen. Es begründet die Erkenntnistheorie als neuzeitliche Form des Philosophierens, die besonders in der französischen Aufklärung nachwirkt. Locke lehnt darin Descartes' Vorstellung von den eingeborenen Ideen ab und vertritt einen konsequenten Empirismus. Aus der theoretischen Einsicht in die Begrenztheit der Erkenntnisfähigkeit ergibt sich für Locke die Forderung, daß sich weder ein Staatssouverän noch eine Glaubensgemeinschaft im Besitz der allein gültigen Wahrheit wähnen darf. Der mündige Bürger, der in der Lage ist, kritisch selbst zu entscheiden, wird konsequenterweise zum pädagogischen Ziel Lockes. John Locke stirbt 1704 als europäische Berühmtheit auf seinem Landsitz in Oates.

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      Book preview

      Teacher, Teacher - John Locke

      LIST OF THINGS I’d rather do than sit through this dreadful continuing education seminar:

      1. Scrape crusted shit off a galvanized bucket with my teeth.

      2. Advance all the way to the finals in an armpit smelling contest.

      3. Watch The View on TV.

      I’m trying to feign interest, but it’s a 12-hour class and we’re only two hours in. To make matters worse, our instructor, Owl Face, hates me. She’s already singled me out twice: first as a bad example, then as a disgrace to the profession. It’s clear she intends to spend the entire day trying to embarrass me in front of the newbies, which means once again, I’ll have to stand up to the bully. Of course, the best way to do that is—

      Wait. I just realized you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about!

      Sorry.

      Quick intro: I’m Dani Ripper, female, private investigator, state of Tennessee. As a licensed P.I. I’m required to attend 12 hours of continuing education every two years. Naturally, I put these sessions off till the last possible moment, so here I am, suffering through a marathon session with a bitch teacher who—wait. Here she comes.

      I’m sorry, Ms. Ripper, Owl Face says, her voice dripping with condescension. Am I keeping you awake?

      Yes, but that’s okay. Keep talking, and I’ll go right back to sleep.

      She frowns. Those of you mesmerized by Ms. Ripper’s looks or fame should be aware the bulk of our profession regards her as a cartoon character. If you wish to bring dignity and honor to our profession you should study how Dani Ripper operates, then do the exact opposite.

      I check my watch. Eight minutes till the next break. Although the state requires 12 hours of classroom education, I discovered through research that instructors are required to give 10-minute breaks every hour. If you do the math, that’s two hours of breaks!

      Owl Face says, Miss Ripper believes a caustic wit and cesspool mouth are prerequisites for the job, but she’s wrong, and today we’re going to educate her. Can someone name the attributes all successful private investigators possess?

      It takes the class four minutes to come up with honesty, integrity, good judgment, patience, determination, observation, computer skills, and intuition. Then she calls on one of the newbies, who struggles to give a definition of honesty. Then Arnold Whorehouse (that’s what Dillon, my partner, calls the older guy in the room) tackles the definition of integrity, which in his case doesn’t extend to marriage.

      Very good, Owl Face says, which brings us to the third attribute, good judgment. Miss Ripper?

      I look at her.

      She says, Give us an example of how an ethical private investigator might benefit from exercising good judgment.

      I point to my watch. It’s been 50 minutes. Break number two is upon us.

      I’m sure the class is willing to wait for any gem of knowledge you’d like to share from personal experience.

      Nothing comes to mind, I say.

      She coughs out a laugh. I’m not surprised. But no matter. If good judgment isn’t your strong suit, perhaps you can tell us how bad judgment made one of your cases more difficult to solve.

      Okay. I once attempted an all-night stakeout wearing lace panties. A thong, to be precise.

      "Excuse me?"

      Not a good idea. First, as the women in the room can attest, lace thongs are notoriously itchy. Second, any thongs that aren’t 100% cotton are incubators for yeast and—

      "Miss Ripper!"

      She tries to stop me, but I’m on a roll. I know what you’re thinking, I say. "You’re wearing a thong at this very moment, and it’s giving you no trouble at all. But as the day wears on that’ll change, because you have no idea what’s going on down there. You think you’re safe because the tag says the crotch is all cotton, but that’s not good enough. The layer outside the crotch isn’t cotton. Worse, you’re wearing leggings made of Spandex or Lycra, both of which are notorious for trapping moisture. It’s this trapped moisture over a period of hours that generates yeast infections, vaginal itch, and even bacterial vaginosis."

      The attendees’ faces contort in disgust. I hear comments like Eew! and Gross! in the background.

      Owl Face says, "I know you lead an alternate lifestyle, but since I don’t, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop taking such an interest in my undergarments."

      "Well, now I’m really confused, because you just said observation was one of the key attributes of successful private eyes, and surely I’m not the only person in the room who’s noticed your whale tail."

      "I beg your pardon?"

      That’s what it’s called when your thong’s too high and you lean over and the top of your panties rides up above your jeans or leggings. Whale tail.

      That’s disgusting.

      "I agree. So if you absolutely have to wear a thong for hours on end, make sure it’s an all-cotton, low-rise panty. Because the whole purpose of wearing a thong is to keep your panties from being seen."

      Owl Face announces the 10-minute break.

      As the day wears on she adjusts her panties six times and glares at me each time. Happily, she ends the course 90 minutes early and claims it’s because we covered the material faster than anticipated. But I suspect it’s because she can’t wait to get out of her clothes and into a shower.

      My early release allows me to call Celeste McCallum, the lady who left four urgent messages on my voicemail this afternoon. She wants to set up a meeting for 7:00 p.m. tonight, but I couldn’t commit till now. As I’m about to return her call, my phone rings.

      Ms. Ripper?

      It’s her.

      Yes?

      I need you.

      When and where?

      She tells me.

      I’m on my way.

      I haven’t stated my need.

      You can tell me when I get there.

      Very well. She pauses. Then says, It goes without saying I’m counting on your complete discretion.

      It doesn’t.

      Excuse me?

      In my profession, nothing goes without saying, especially where ethics are concerned. My advice, you should always say the things that go without saying.

      She hesitates. You mean now?

      No. I’m the special exception. But you should say it to everyone else you deal with.

      Hopefully this matter won’t go beyond the two of us.

      Remembering Owl Face said intuition is a key attribute, it crosses my mind this lady might be attempting to set up a romantic encounter. It doesn’t feel like it, but then again, you never know. So I ask her, and she responds, Don’t be ridiculous. I’m 62 years old, and the headmistress of a private girl’s school. This is a serious matter involving an allegation one of our students made about her teacher.

      That’s fantastic!

      I beg your pardon?

      Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so excited. It’s just that this is right up my alley. It’s the exact type of work I became a private investigator to do. There’s nothing more important to me than protecting children who are being abused.

      Yes, of course. However, in this particular situation we’re more concerned about protecting the reputation of the school.

      "What?" I yell, but it’s too late. She already hung up.

      DILLON AND I do a lot of Internet marketing, and it’s hard to tell which campaigns are working, so I always ask new clients the same question: What made you decide to call me?

      Celeste McCallum, headmistress, Palmer School, says, You’re gay.

      "I’m…What?"

      Gay. Noting the expression on my face she says, Should I have said lesbian?

      I feel my face go red. I…uh…isn’t this type of discussion considered discrimination?

      "Relax, Ms. Ripper. It’s only discrimination if you lose something due to your sexual orientation. In this situation you’re gaining something."

      I’m not sure she’s right about that, but I’m not totally clear on the rules. Plus, they seem to change all the time. And anyway, I’m not a lesbian. I think about telling her that, but I don’t want to lose the case. Then again, if I lose the case because I’m not a lesbian, would that be discrimination?

      It’s getting harder and harder to keep up with the rules of political correctness. Last summer a lady lost millions of dollars because she may have said the N-word 30 years ago. I would never say that word, but I’m concerned about other words I might be using that could get me in trouble 30 years from now.

      I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but my best friend, Sophie, caught me doing something terrible. I was wearing headphones, singing a popular tune I had just bought and downloaded. She tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Oh, my God, Dani, are you crazy?"

      What’s wrong?

      You just sang the N-word!

      "I—Whaaat?" I thought about it a moment, and realized she was right.

      But it’s a popular song! I said.

      Doesn’t matter.

      "But—I heard it on the radio! I hear it all the time!"

      Doesn’t matter. You haven’t earned the right to sing it.

      But I purchased it!

      "Look. You’re allowed to buy the song, you just can’t sing that word. Sing around it, or don’t sing it at all."

      Okay.

      She looked at me, noticed my concern. What’s wrong?

      Be honest with me, Sofe. How much trouble am I in?

      I’m honestly not sure. You’re not quite a public figure, but you’re well-known.

      Are you going to report me?

      No.

      Turn me in to the authorities?

      "Not at this time. Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But don’t ever piss me off, or this comes out, capisci?"

      What if someone asks me under oath if I ever sang this song out loud?

      Would you feel compelled to tell the truth?

      Of course.

      Then you’re screwed.

      Shit.

      You’re probably fine, as long as you don’t become too famous. In the meantime, consider this your wakeup call.

      Okay. But Sofe?

      Yeah?

      What if another catchy song comes out?

      She put her hand on my shoulder and said, Be vigilant, Dani. Now shut up and kiss me!

      I did.

      I know what you’re thinking: if I’m lying in bed with Sophie, kissing her mouth, and she’s probing my body like a Turkish border guard, I’m probably gay, right?

      Except that Sophie’s my best friend, and she’s the only girl I’ve ever kissed. Also I never have sexual thoughts about women, but I sometimes do have sexual thoughts about men. So what does that mean?

      It means you’re a certifiable muff-muncher, Sophie says, but her statement is technically untrue. I’ve never done that to her or anyone else, but I do get her point: if I continually allow it, and generally enjoy it, the all-girls’ club considers me an active member whether I carry the card or not. Even if I haven’t cancelled my membership in the boys’ club.

      Do I really have to make a choice between being attracted to men or women?

      Maurine says yes.

      Maurine is my author friend John Locke’s 90-year-old mother. She said, I don’t care if you like girls or boys, you need to make a choice and stick with it.

      I’m planning to take her advice, and I know which way I’m going, it’s just that I haven’t found the right guy yet.

      Maurine said, You’ll find the right man when you’re not looking. John added, I agree. But you’re not likely to find him in Sophie’s bed.

      I reminded John that Sophie and I don’t sleep in the same bed. We just occasionally wind up there for short bursts.

      What, too much information?

      Sorry. You know me. My life’s an open book.

      Quick aside: I saw a clip on TV last week from when President Clinton was running for president. They asked if he used drugs in college and he said he experimented with them. Does that mean he put on a lab coat and conducted scientific experiments, or did he get totally blazed like everyone else?

      Who knows?

      So I’m going to follow his lead and say I’m conducting gender-preference experiments. In the meantime, if Celeste McCallum thinks I’m gay, what’s the downside?

      I smile and say, How can I help you, Mrs. McCallum?

      I’d like you to sit in on a discussion we’re about to have with one of our 16-year-old students.

      We?

      Me, our guidance counselor, and the girl’s mother.

      What’s her name?

      The student? Shelby Ann North.

      And what is Shelby likely to say in this meeting?

      That Beth Conroy—the best and most-celebrated teacher we’ve ever had at Palmer—molested her.

      When?

      This year. And more than once.

      You think she’s lying?

      I’m not taking sides.

      But?

      Celeste sighs. I’d be shocked if it’s true. Beth has won every award you can imagine, including Teacher of the Year.

      Does Shelby have a history of embellishing?

      No. She’s an honor student.

      Any problems at home?

      "None that I’m aware of. But that’s your specialty, isn’t it?"

      "It can be, if you like. Have you spoken to Beth Conroy about the allegations?"

      Not yet. I wanted to hear the accusations personally before taking things to the next level, and wanted you to sit in because your experience with minors—and gay women—might give you some insights that can help us find the truth.

      What makes you think I have experience with gay women?

      Your life-partner, the country singer? What’s her name? Sophie Alexander?

      Thanks Channel 44 News Crew, for calling Sofe my life-partner during that murder investigation last year.

      Mrs. McCallum says, If Beth molested Shelby, would I be correct to assume she’s gay?

      "Probably. But is it possible Shelby’s gay?"

      "I don’t think so, but again, you’ll be able to tell."

      Ah, of course. You’re referring to the secret handshake.

      She eyes me carefully. Then says, The meeting’s in 15 minutes. Can I pour you some coffee?

      Do you have any tea?

      I do, actually.

      Thanks, but no.

      You don’t want tea?

      No. I was just wondering if you had any.

      She frowns. You’re a bit odd, aren’t you?

      I was going for mysterious, I say.

      CELESTE MCCALLUM AND I are sitting in the conference room when a very nervous, very shaky Shelby North enters the room with her mother, Andrea, and the school’s guidance counselor, Ms. Lingus. After the introductions are made, Shelby takes a seat and locks her eyes on mine. I give her a slight nod, then fix my attention on Mrs. McCallum. But you know how you can feel someone staring at you? And not letting up?

      That’s the feeling I’m getting from Shelby.

      I look at her mom, Andrea, then back at Mrs. McCallum. It’s eerily quiet in the room, just as you’d expect when everyone’s feeling awkward and no one wants to speak first. Ms. Lingus is looking down, studying her lap as if it just appeared out of thin air and blinking might cause it to burst into flames. I instinctively follow her gaze for the briefest second, to see what she’s staring at, but just as I do, she catches me looking and curls her lip into a sneer so vile you’d think she caught me shitting in her spaghetti.

      It’s like:

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