Tomorrow - 1. Tomorrow

“Morning, Roge. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?” The grandmotherly secretary to the mayor tilted her head in confusion and stared at the teen.

Rogelio Cordoba ran a hand through his silky, black hair and dropped into the chair next to the desk. “Good morning, Ms. Garcia. I’m suspended until Monday. I thought I’d come in and do some work instead of staying home.”

“YOU WHAT?” The usually sedate older woman raised her voice in a way the City Hall intern had not heard before. “Why?”

The Texas Preparatory Charter School senior sighed and tried to keep his anger under control while he gave a summary of what transpired at the school. When finished, he made to stand, but a raised hand kept him in place.

“Stay where you are.” Ms. Garcia lifted the receiver of the phone on her desk and dialed a three-digit extension. “Mr. Mayor, Rogelio is here early, and he has a situation. Do you have a few minutes to discuss the matter? Right away, sir.” Her benevolent smile helped calm the teen’s sudden bout of anxiety. “Come on, Roge. Let’s see what we can do to help you.”

Inside the mayor’s office, Rogelio repeated what took place the previous day. Anger colored the man’s face as he listened to the events leading to the suspension of his star intern. “Roge, this is serious. I’m so ticked off right now I’m ready to rip someone’s head off. Your principal’s first in line.”

The comment elicited a smile, and the honor-roll student relaxed into the chair. “I’ll hold her for you if you want, sir.”

“I may just have you do that. But let’s try something else first.” The man grabbed his personal cell phone and ran a finger over the screen several times. “Ah, here it is. Valerie Kempo’s an old friend, and I want her to hear about this.” Without further explanation, he touched the screen again and placed the phone on his desk.

“I think you’re in good hands, Roge.” Ms. Garcia rose from her chair and headed for the door. “I have work to do. Let me know what happens.”

The phone rang twice before they heard a mellifluous, Southern-accented voice. “American Civil Liberties Union, Valerie speaking.”

“Hey, Val. How are you? Careful what you say. I have you on speaker.”

“Why, Mr. Mayor, such a pleasure to hear your voice. What do you want, you old rascal?”

The mayor chuckled while staring at Rogelio. “Told you I was calling an old friend. She and I went to school together. Val, I have one of our interns here with us. Rogelio’s a high school senior. He’s been suspended by the principal, and I think you might be interested in his story.”

“Hello, Rogelio. If your boss calls me and tells me I might want to hear what happened, I’m certain it’s serious. Would you mind if I record the conversation? If it’s something the ACLU decides to become involved in, I don’t want to make y’all repeat the same thing over and over.”

“That’d be fine, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, I want you to relax and tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”

“Okay… I guess it started on Valentine’s Day this year. That’s when the massacre at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida took place. When the students there started a movement for some control on guns, a few of us at Texas Prep got in touch with them. I was one of the organizers at our school for the High School Walkout Day a couple of months later. We stayed outside for seventeen minutes in memory of the seventeen people killed in Florida.

“During the protest, somebody passed around sheets of paper with the name and phone numbers of the two Texas senators and the congressmen for our area. The next day, during my lunch break, I called the office of Senator Cruz. I spoke to one of his assistants and during the conversation I dropped an F-bomb, which—”

“Hang on, Rogelio.” Furious clicking could be heard over the phone in the silence following Kempo’s interruption. “Can you recall the exact words you used? Don’t worry about offending me. I have a couple of boys a little older than you, and I’ve heard it all before.” There was humor in her tone.

“I… I told the assistant that Congress needed to get off their fucking asses and do something.” Rogelio exhaled loudly. “I guess I shouldn’t have cussed.”

“Maybe… but if that’s why you were suspended it seems a tad harsh. What happened next?”

“Well, I guess the assistant didn’t like what I had to say. Later in the day, I was called into the principal’s office. I was suspended for two days for using profanity and being verbally abusive. I was also told I couldn’t be class secretary any longer.”

“You still with us, Mr. Mayor?”

“I’m here, Val.”

“What do you think?”

“I think… I think the senator’s staffer’s an ass and the principal’s a fucking idiot.” The man’s use of profanity elicited chuckles from the shocked young man in the office and the woman on the other end of the phone call.

“Fine example you set for our youth, you old potty mouth. Rogelio, what was your parents’ reaction?”

“Ummm, Dad wanted to go talk to the principal with one of his guns strapped on. Mom yelled at me for cussing and at him for his suggestion. They both support me and think it was unfair.”

“I do too. I think this type of action can have a chilling effect on free speech. And that’s something the ACLU works to protect. Since you are a minor, I’ll need to get your parents involved. Let me give you my cell number. If your boss will allow it, I want you to call them and then add me to the conversation. I’d like to discuss what I have in mind.

While Rogelio was at City Hall, news about his suspension percolated through the school. He had told a handful of friends what transpired, and they spread the news soon after arriving at Texas Prep in the morning. Some teachers were sympathetic; a handful seized it as a teaching opportunity and led discussions on government, politics, free speech, and the use of profanity.

The rumor mill churned out gossip, anger palpably swelled within the student body, and several instructors cautioned the staff. They feared a protest strike or a riot. The principal, aware trouble was imminent, chose to remain in her office and not face the bubbling discontent. She could not avoid the issue for long. In the early afternoon, moments after signing for a courier-delivered letter, she received a call from Valerie Kempo.

“Alicia Tidwell, good afternoon.”

“Ms. Tidwell, my name’s Valerie Kempo. I’m with the ACLU, and I’m calling about one of your students, Rogelio Cordoba. I’d like to discuss his suspension.”

“Ms. Kempo you said? I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to discuss a student’s disciplinary record. Mr. Cordoba’s a minor, and his parents would need to approve any conversation concerning him.” Tidwell framed her response with care; she feared the incident would escalate if she allowed the ACLU to become involved.

“In that case, it’s a good thing his mother and father are here with me. Allow me to place the call on speaker so they may provide the proper authorization.”

“I’m sorry once again, but that’s not satisfactory. I have no way of knowing these individuals are the boy’s parents.”

“Then we’re in luck once again.” Valerie’s tone held a hint of mockery. “We had a notarized release, signed by Mr. and Mrs. Cordoba, delivered to your office.” Her voice lost its friendly demeanor. “Now, are you going to discuss the matter with us or do we have to go public? I’m certain you’ve noticed the activity on social media today. The ACLU is ready to join the chorus calling for your dismissal.”

Trying to contain her anger, the principal capitulated. “Very well, what can I do for you?”

“Our letter detailed our request. You will reverse the suspension and remove all mention of it from Mr. Cordoba’s records. You will reinstate him to his position as senior-class secretary. And finally, you will apologize to him.”

“That will never happen. He placed our school in a bad light by using profanity with one of our elected officials, and that is entirely unacceptable.”

“Very well. If that’s how you feel. However, you should be aware we find your behavior unacceptable. The First Amendment to the Constitution protects Mr. Cordoba’s right to free speech, and you have trampled on it. We hoped this matter wouldn’t escalate, but you leave us no choice. Unless you agree to our terms by the end of the day, we will pursue the matter directly with the board of directors of the school and the superintendent. If we don’t hear from you by tomorrow at 9:00 a.m., we will hold a press conference asking for your resignation.”

“You do as you feel necessary, Ms. Kempo. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a school to run.” Rising dissatisfaction amongst the students caused the principal to disable the school’s Facebook page when the number of negative comments against her proved overwhelming.

Flanked by his parents and the mayor, Rogelio and Valerie stood on the sidewalk across the street from the school the following morning facing a phalanx of reporters. The ACLU representative was the only one to speak; she chastised Senator Cruz and his staff for retaliating against a constituent expressing their views and Principal Tidwell for her actions. “…and the chilling effect on political speech of the woman’s actions is unacceptable. We expect our demands to be met or we will pursue legal recourse.”

The gathering coincided with students arriving for the day, drew the attention of parents dropping off their sons and daughters and apparently created a frenzy of phone calls. By noontime, Texas Preparatory Charter School surrendered. Rogelio’s suspension was rescinded, his record was expunged, and he was reinstated as class secretary. The board of directors apologized and promised to institute new policies safeguarding free speech.

A month later, Principal Alicia Tidwell retaliated.

“Good morning, Roge. Ready for graduation?” Following his altercation with the school principal and its satisfying resolution, Ms. Garcia treated Rogelio more like a grandson than ever before. “We’re all so proud of you. We’ll miss you around here when you go away to college.”

The highest GPA in his class, outstanding scores on college entrance exams, and a resume full of involvement in school and community activities helped the young man earn a full scholarship to Dillard University in New Orleans. “Morning, Ms. Garcia. I’m excited to start college in the fall, but I’m having a little problem right now. Is Mayor Jefferson available? I’d like to ask his advice.”

“Hang on one second.” The woman picked up the phone on her desk and dialed an internal extension. “Mr. Mayor? Rogelio Cordoba would like to speak to you if you have a few minutes.” Smiling, she nodded, raised a finger to point at her boss’s door, and motioned for the City Hall intern to go inside. “I’m sending him in right now.”

The meeting lasted more than a few minutes. And more than a few times, Ms. Garcia heard Mayor Lamont Jefferson raise his voice and use profanity like he never had around her. When the door was pushed open entirely and the man stormed out of his sanctuary, the look of determination mingled with anger was a warning for everyone to step aside.

“Ms. Garcia, call our AV department. Tell them I’m on the way and to wrap anything they’re working on. Oh, and please reschedule any appointments I have this morning.”

“What’s going on, Mr. Mayor?”

Lamont Jefferson abruptly stopped, turned, and went on a verbal rampage. “What’s going on is that Mrs. Alicia Tidwell is a vindictive witch. I refuse to stand by and let her get away with it. What she’s doing to Rogelio, she could do to any of our city’s children, and I won’t put up with it. Do you know that for the first time in the history of Texas Prep the class valedictorian wasn’t asked to deliver a commencement address?”

The fire in the mayor’s eyes reflected his fury. His clipped words were stabbed more than spoken. “And when Rogelio approached her about it, all she said was it wouldn’t happen. Well, not on my watch. We’re going to tape Rogelio’s speech. We’re going to post it on the city’s website, our Facebook page, and our YouTube channel. I’m going to do anything I can to see she loses her job. She has no business working with our youth.”

Rogelio’s opening remarks expressed gratitude to his parents for stressing the value of education. To his siblings for the friendly rivalry pushing him to excel. To his teachers for their constant encouragement, and to the mayor and his staff for their support.

Then, in a thinly veiled comment against one of his nemeses, he spoke to Senator Cruz. “Some of you are aware I was part of the protest against continued gun violence. That a staff member for one of our senators apparently did not appreciate my comments. That said staff member retaliated by calling our school, seeking to get me in trouble.

“Well, I have something else to say to the senator and to other elected officials: I accuse you of murder. Of being complicit with groups seeking to protect the Second Amendment to the constitution to the detriment of our citizens. Of selling your vote for campaign contributions.

"Shame on you. No right is absolute. The right to bear arms ends when it conflicts with my right to remain alive and enjoy my future. Each time an assault weapon is used in the United States to kill someone, you’re guilty of their murder.

“To Ms. Tidwell, our school principal who tried to suspend me after the call from the senator’s office. Who threw tradition out the window by denying me the opportunity to speak at our graduation ceremony like every other valedictorian has in the past. To her, I have a heck of a lot to say.” Rogelio glanced at the sheaf of papers he placed on the podium, picked them up, folded them, and stuck them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“You tried to embarrass me and you failed. You tried to silence me and you failed. You tried to break me and you failed. As far as I’m concerned you’re also a failure as principal. Instead of encouraging your students to think critically and encourage open discussion, you did the opposite. Your attempts at stifling dissent do nothing but encourage us to work harder.

“For you, for Senator Cruz, for his staff, and for all those who hope we will go away, I have bad news. Even when darkness comes crashing through, as it did for those murdered in Florida and so many other places, the fight is far from over. Tomorrow, there’ll be more of us. Tomorrow, we’ll right the wrongs inflicted on us. Tomorrow, we’ll stand together and strive to make our country a better place. Tomorrow, you will be history. Tomorrow, we’ll be relentless in our drive to protect students everywhere. Tomorrow, we will succeed. Be warned. Tomorrow, we’re coming for you, and we will triumph.

“Finally, to my classmates who I’ve come to know, respect, and love: Never give up, and never surrender. Don’t ever doubt that a committed group of individuals, no matter their age, can make a difference. That we can change the world for the better. And that in the long run, justice will triumph. Keep the fires burning, and don’t let naysayers get you down. In the words of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., ‘We shall overcome’”

When the new school year began, Texas Preparatory Charter School had a new principal.