In This Moment Page 2

  As if teaching the Bible at school might make someone like Wendell an unfit parent.

  The educator won that case. But things were changing. A growing sector of people were vehemently against anything Christian. If Wendell and his kids suffered, then Alicia believed she would suffer, too. In her mind, the events at Hamilton would be splashed across the news and no public school in the state would ever hire her or Wendell again. Yes, as far as Alicia was concerned, the whole scenario already felt like a reality. A fait accompli, as Hamilton might’ve said back in the day.

  Which was why Alicia was already pulling away.

  The sad thing was that she was probably right. Any attention on social media meant a tsunami of scrutiny would be on all of them. Every Christian on staff. So the first cost was almost certainly going to be his relationship with the woman he loved. Wendell’s heart already hurt over what was coming. But even so he had to follow through with his plan.

  This was what God wanted of him. Wendell was sure. And God would see him through. He sighed. Lord, if only I could help Alicia trust You Really trust.

  He thought back to a recent day in mid-July when he’d made his intentions known. He had grilled burgers for her and the kids and they’d spent the day swimming at the neighborhood pool. Back at his house, once the kids were in the other room watching a movie, Alicia had hugged him. The smell of her hair and perfume had filled his senses, and Wendell had known he couldn’t go another day without telling her how he felt.

  He sat across from her in the living room that day and searched her eyes. “My kids love you.”

  “I love them.” Her smile lit up her face. “I had the best day, Wendell.”

  “The kids aren’t the only ones. I love you, too, Alicia.” His heart pounded in his chest. “As more than a friend.” It felt like Wendell’s brokenhearted season since losing Joanna was finally over.

  Her eyes sparkled brighter than the sunshine on the pool. “I wondered if you’d ever tell me.”

  The two of them laughed and stood and hugged again, and as Wendell walked her to her car that evening, he did what he’d longed to do for months.

  He kissed her.

  After their beautiful summer together, Wendell had planned to propose. That way they could be a family sooner than later. Which was something his kids wanted. Just a few weeks ago Alicia took Leah and Alexandria back-to-school shopping, and when the three of them came home and the girls modeled their new clothes, it was as if they’d been close to Alicia forever. Jordy and Darrell loved her, too. The boys took bike rides with Alicia and Luvie, their family dog.

  But he had done more than spend time with Alicia over the summer.

  Driven for some way to help the Hamilton students, Wendell had worked late at night and early in the morning poring over the Federalist Papers, written mostly by Alexander Hamilton. Wendell hadn’t seen the Broadway musical about the man, but he had heard the Hamilton cast recording. A line from one of the songs stayed with Wendell.

  I am not throwing away my shot . . . not throwing away my shot.

  Because of his research, Wendell had come to admire Alexander Hamilton. The man’s visionary ability to bring people together. His unwavering faith in God. Wendell agreed with the words of George Will, a famous politician.

  Will said, “There is an elegant memorial in Washington to Jefferson, but none to Hamilton. However, if you seek Hamilton’s monument, look around. You are living in it. We honor Jefferson, but we live in Hamilton’s country.”

  Those quotes were in Wendell’s presentation folder. The details Wendell had learned or read or researched about Hamilton and the U.S. Constitution. The freedoms afforded every American citizen were highlighted in the pages of the folder in front of him. Wendell had also included a number of esteemed studies showing the academic, social and personal benefit of prayer and faith.

  In addition, he’d researched his rights. What he was about to do was legal, but he had to be careful. He could alert students to the optional after-school club, but he couldn’t push them to attend. And bottom line, he could be sued, because anyone could be sued for anything.

  The question was whether he’d win.

  Wendell had a strong sense that he could. Because it wasn’t only the statistics and research on Hamilton and the Constitution that drove him to come up with the plan. It was the Bible, too. The verses in Proverbs and Psalms that spoke about training a child in the way he should go and teaching the next generation the truths of God.

  The students at Hamilton High were utterly broken. How could he not share with them the truths of the Bible, the hope of God? For a year, Wendell had felt a holy calling to make this move. That’s why he’d spent so much time this past summer pulling together his research, making certain he wasn’t breaking any law.

  Now, with his folder of research before him, Wendell felt ready. He would do this. He had to do it. He was the only one willing to take a stand.

  Wendell closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. All summer he’d been telling Alicia about his idea, how he wanted to bring the Bible back to Hamilton High. Six days ago he’d taken her to coffee and explained what his research had netted. How he felt he had the right to do something to help the students.

  The bell rang out in the hallway.

  Wendell blinked his eyes open but the memory remained. Alicia had nodded, but her breathing was different. Faster, filled with fear. She struggled to speak. “With all my heart . . . I want to stand by you on this, Wendell. I do.” Her breathing was faster still, completely panicked. Each breath came faster and faster, and they had to hurry out of the coffeehouse. Alicia barely made it to her car, and she struggled even to talk. “My heart . . . it’s racing. I . . . I can’t breathe.” She gasped. “I’m dying, Wendell! Help me!”

  Wendell could still hear her, still see the terror in her face. He had tried to comfort her, but there was nothing he could say. For the next thirty minutes he held her hand and watched her as—between panicked gasps—she did the only thing she could do. She popped two pills and recited the same Bible verse over and over.

  It was from Philippians 4.

  “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

  Over and over and over again.

  It was the first time Wendell had seen Alicia suffer a full-blown panic attack. Before then, she had downplayed her anxiety disorder. But there was no denying it now. And since then he could feel her pulling away a little more each time they talked. He was making her anxiety worse.

  All because of his desire to help the students at Hamilton High.

  Wendell stared out the window. You’ll get me through this, right, God? Not just me, but the students? He sighed. Open their eyes and ears, Father. Help them find hope in You. Please do that. Wendell pulled the report closer. The front of the folder included every encouraging example that had inspired Wendell to finally act. He flipped to the back. Here were the detailed reasons why Wendell couldn’t wait another year. The terrible truths and statistics that defined his school.

  The truth was there in black and white. Hamilton High and its students were on the brink of disaster. A total collapse. It was even possible the school board could close Hamilton for good. Late last April the members had discussed a plan where the students would be bused to other schools across town. In that case, the doors of Wendell’s school would be shut forever. Until the board decided what to do with the property.

  Wendell clenched his jaw. No, that would not happen. That terrible possibility was the past. This year would be different. Today was the first day of the new Hamilton High, and very soon at the assembly, Wendell would inform his students of the program. After today they would have a choice. If they wanted, they could raise the bar for their lives, their futures.

  Wendell could hardly wait to tell them about it.<
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  He closed the folder and studied the title again. “In This Moment.” The words came from his old youth football coach, Les Green. “You have to ask yourself,” the coach used to say, “what good can I do in this moment?”

  What good can I do in this moment . . . ?

  Indeed.

  Wendell took a deep breath and turned to the first page. He’d written just one thing on it: the job description he’d agreed to when he was hired by the school district to serve as principal of Hamilton High. The description read:

  Establish a schoolwide vision of commitment to high standards and ensure the success of all students.

  The verbs spoke to him as he read the words again.

  He lifted his eyes to the blue sky outside his window. You called me to establish and ensure, Lord . . . that’s why I was hired. It was his job to establish a vision. Not just any vision, but a vision of commitment to high standards. And it was his job to ensure the success of all students.

  That’s what he was paid to do.

  Wendell leaned forward and planted his elbows on his desk. Last year six Hamilton High students were killed in gang violence. Two committed suicide and three overdosed on drugs. Forty percent were flunking at least one class. In a school of a thousand, Wendell had failed his job and his students.

  But not anymore.

  Fresh air. That’s what he needed. The weather outside was beautiful, cooler than usual and crisp. None of the summer humidity. Wendell opened his office window and sat back down at his desk. He turned the page in his folder and saw the words God had given him. Words that made the most sense considering his job duties. Being called to create a vision of commitment to high standards could only be summed up one way:

  Raise the bar.

  That’s what Wendell had been hired to do. Raise the bar. Now, finally, that’s what he was going to do. And so his program for Hamilton would be called Raise the Bar. It was intended to give kids hope and a reason to care, a reason to try and grow and learn and live.

  Wendell stood and crossed the room to his bookcase, the one that spanned most of the far wall. The top shelf contained things that inspired him: gifts from Alicia and his kids, more family pictures, a framed photo of a student who graduated from Hamilton High and made her way into a career as a surgeon in nearby Bloomington. And there at the far end, an old grass-stained football with the message Les Green had scribbled across it.

  In this moment.

  Oh, Les, my friend . . . I wish you were here. Wendell took the ball in his hands. Les had been there to pick up the pieces when Wendell’s father was shot and killed in a drug deal. Wendell was just seven years old.

  “I got you, Wendell,” Les had told him at the funeral. “God’s got you. He has plans for you. Keep your eyes on the sky because these streets have nothing for you.”

  Les Green became the father Wendell needed, a man he clung to all his growing-up years. Les used to say, “A man is nothing without God.” He’d quote Bible verses like Proverbs 16:3. Commit your actions to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans. It was no surprise that Wendell made his first trip to church in the passenger seat of Les Green’s Chevy sedan.

  Les was best man at Wendell and Joanna’s wedding, and Les became Wendell’s greatest confidant in the early days, when the kids came along. A year after Wendell’s youngest was born, Les was raking leaves in front of his single-story, small suburban home when he dropped dead of a heart attack.

  The loss left a gaping hole in Wendell’s heart. A hole Wendell filled with Jesus and more Jesus. Which was exactly what Les would’ve done.

  Wendell smiled as he set the football back on the shelf. He knew what Les Green would have told him today. Something has to change. Get out there and tell the kids about your program. The students at Hamilton High need Jesus. Or as Alexander Hamilton would say to him: You need to stand for something . . . or you’ll fall for anything.

  Today was the day Wendell Quinn would take a stand.

  Les would be proud. Hamilton, too. Jesus most of all.

  Wendell sat back down at his desk. What good can I do in this moment? In this moment. He repeated the words until they were etched in his heart and soul. This was his chance to make a difference. God would help him, no matter the cost.

  Whatever came next, Wendell was ready.

  2

  Twenty minutes before the assembly, Wendell walked to the auditorium and onto the stage. He stood there in the silence and tried to imagine the student body and staff reaction later that morning.

  The last hour had passed in a blur of paperwork and conversations with a number of teachers and office assistants—“How was your summer, Mr. Quinn?” “How was the lake?” “How are the kids?”

  None of them had any idea what was coming.

  Wendell took a deep breath. The place smelled stale, the way it always smelled after a summer behind closed doors. He filled his lungs and folded his hands. Lord, I’m gonna need Your help. Please let me get the point across. He looked at the empty seats. Help them hear about this plan with fresh ears. If only they could see the possibilities. Wendell exhaled.

  His staff would think he’d lost his mind. Some of them might even complain or report him. He could be fired. Anything was possible.

  Wendell felt his courage double. He had to take that chance. It wasn’t illegal to tell students about a voluntary after-school program. Each student had a choice.

  The bell rang and Wendell stood a little taller.

  Here we go.

  He stayed on the stage as the students dragged themselves in. One by one, group by group they came, backpacks flung over their shoulders, their faces etched with anger and indifference, fear and disinterest. Only a few of them talked or laughed as they took their seats.

  Teachers joined them, filling the rows in the back of the room. He watched Alicia enter with two English teachers. Please, God, give her peace. Wendell sighed. Ease her anxious heart.

  The second bell should’ve signaled a full auditorium, all the students in their seats. But Wendell could see that one in four seats were still open. The seniors, probably. Last year during the first-day-of-school assembly, half the seniors hung out in the parking lot—some openly smoking pot and drinking. Wendell had laid down the law after that. Anyone caught missing future assemblies would have detention for a week.

  But the kids didn’t care.

  There wasn’t a single reason they would come to detention. What could Wendell do to them? They would have to care about their high school experience before they would care about detention.

  Typically, Wendell wore a button-down cotton shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Not today. For the unveiling of his plan, Wendell wore a suit. Gray pinstripes. Never mind that right now it felt like a straitjacket. He wanted the students to know he was serious.

  Wendell took the handheld mic and made his way to the front center of the stage. “Good morning!” He kept his voice cheerful. Something he’d learned from Les Green. “This isn’t any ordinary school year, people. This year everything is going to change at Hamilton High.”

  It was impossible not to notice the dozens of boys slumped in their seats, hoodies and baseball caps pulled low over their eyes, or the girls on their phones. There were rules against these things, but none of them seemed to care.

  Wendell stayed patient. He told them about the new bell schedule and how after-school tutoring would be available this year. “A teacher from each department will stay for one hour Monday, Wednesday and Friday in the Four Hundred Building. You can show up for help anytime you wish.”

  A few more announcements and it was time. The plan had to be revealed. To kick it off, Wendell had created a short film. Only four minutes long, it was a recap of everything wrong and heartbreaking about Hamilton High. Factual information, nothing more. Produced in a way that some students might actually pay attention.

  “I’d like you to watch a video.” Wendell pointed to the screen overhead. In the back of t
he room a skirmish broke out. Two male students shoved each other and then quickly wound up on the floor in a brawl.

  Students all around the incident were on their feet, yelling at the two, cheering them on.

  “Enough!” Wendell stared at the back row. Even with a mic, he wasn’t getting their attention. “That’s enough!” He looked to the nearest teacher. “Please take them to the office. Keep them there.” The other students were still standing, still watching as two teachers rushed in. They broke up the fight and finally walked the kids out of the auditorium. Wendell lowered his voice. “Sit down. All of you.”

  Gradually, the students obeyed until everyone was seated and generally facing the stage again. “Okay.” Wendell couldn’t believe things were going so poorly. He needed to get the video up and running. “Take a look at the screen.”

  Someone lowered the house lights and pushed play. The video began with a burst of statistics. Dreary, gut-wrenching statistics. The Hamilton gang violence, the drug abuse, the suicides. The transition shot read: “Those are the statistics. These are the stories.”

  Using images from the yearbook and photos taken by students in Alicia’s journalism class, the rest of the film was a more personal look at the losses from the previous year. Rasha Carter, a sophomore. About to walk home from school last January, killed in an exchange of gunfire between two rival gangs. She never even made it past the school parking lot before she was killed.

  The footage showed Rasha alive and happy, talking about her dreams and laughing with friends. But it was followed with video coverage of her funeral. The day the girl’s future was buried with her at the cemetery.

  Wendell heard a few sniffles coming from somewhere in the front row. That was when he saw he had their attention. Not everyone. Still plenty of students hanging their heads, sleeping through the moment or too busy on their phones to care. But a few girls in the front were crying, and gradually students were tuning in.

  The film continued with additional clips of the other students who’d died last year, followed by a montage of news headlines featuring Hamilton High’s worst criminal element. The video ended with the quote from Alexander Hamilton. Those who stand for nothing . . . fall for anything.