‘Same thing.’ Pippa’s face took on a look of outrage. ‘I had a right to an answer!’
Pauline said: ‘So, even though you may have had right on your side, the result is that lessons continue as before, except that you’re not in the class.’
‘And I’m in deep shit.’
Pauline pretended not to notice the profanity. ‘Looking back, what do you think about the way you handled this?’
‘I stood up for truth and got punished.’
That was not the answer Pauline was looking for. She tried again. ‘Can you think of any alternative responses that might be worth trying?’
‘Suck it up and shut my mouth?’
‘Would you like to hear a suggestion?’
‘Okay.’
‘Try to think of a way the class could learn about the genocide of Native Americans and the Nazi Holocaust too.’
‘But he won’t—’
‘Hold on. Suppose Mr Newbegin agreed to devote the last lesson of the semester to the Native Americans, and to let you make a presentation, which could be followed by a class discussion.’
‘He would never do that.’
‘He might.’ He would if I asked him, Pauline thought; but she kept that to herself. ‘If not, doesn’t the school have a Debate Society?’
‘Yes. I’m on the committee.’
‘Propose a motion about the Indian Wars. Were the pioneers guilty of a holocaust? Get the whole school involved in the discussion – including Mr Newbegin. You need him to be your friend, not your enemy.’
Pippa began to look interested. ‘Okay, that’s an idea – a debate.’
‘Whatever you do, work it out with Ms Judd and Mr Newbegin. Don’t dream something up then spring it on them. The more they think it’s their idea, the more they’ll support it.’
Pippa smiled. ‘Are you teaching me politics, Mom?’
‘Maybe. But there’s one more thing, and you probably won’t like it.’
‘What?’
‘Everything will go more smoothly if you begin by apologizing to Mr Newbegin for disrupting his class.’
‘Do I really have to?’
‘I think you do, honey. You’ve hurt his pride.’
‘I’m a kid!’
‘Which makes it worse. Put a little ointment on his wound. You’ll be glad you did.’
‘Can I think about it?’
‘Sure. Now go and wash up while I call Ms Judd and then we’ll have dinner –’ she looked at her watch – ‘in fifteen minutes.’
‘Okay.’
Pippa left.
Gerry said: ‘I’ll tell the kitchen.’ He went out.
Pauline picked up the phone. ‘Please call Ms Judd, the principal of Foggy Bottom Day School,’ she told the switchboard operator.
‘Certainly, Madam President.’ The staff of the White House switchboard were proud of their ability to find anyone in the world. ‘Are you expecting to stay in the East Sitting Hall for another minute or so?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you, Madam President.’
Pauline hung up and Gerry returned. Pauline asked him: ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you handled that well. You persuaded her to make amends, but she’s not mad at you. It was skilful.’
It was loving, too, Pauline thought, with a touch of resentment. ‘You thought it was a bit cold?’
Gerry shrugged. ‘I’m wondering what this tells us about where Pippa is at right now, emotionally.’
Pauline frowned, not really understanding what Gerry was trying to say; but the phone rang before she could ask him.
‘I have Ms Judd for you, Madam President.’
Pauline said: ‘Ms Judd, I hope I’m not disturbing your evening.’
There were not many people in the world who would mind being disturbed by the President of the United States, but Pauline liked to be polite.
‘Please don’t worry, Madam President. I’m happy to speak to you, of course.’ The voice was low and friendly, though a little wary – which was hardly surprising in someone speaking to the president.
‘First, I want to thank you for the concern you’ve shown for Pippa. It’s appreciated.’
‘You’re welcome, ma’am. It’s our job.’
‘Pippa has to learn that she can’t take control of lessons, obviously. And I’m absolutely not calling you to complain about Mr Newbegin.’
‘Thank you for that.’ Ms Judd began to relax slightly.