Branded - Eric Walters [8]
“She’s all upset about our new school uniforms,” I said.
“Your school is getting uniforms?” my mother asked.
“Not yet. Next semester.”
“This is news to us,” my father said. “Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
“It was sprung on us by Mr. Roberts today.”
“Not surprising that he’d want uniforms,” my father said. “He does like things to be orderly and organized.”
“And Julia objects to the uniforms?” my mother asked.
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
“Does she have some plan to fight them?” she asked.
“I think her plan mainly involves getting me to come up with something.”
Both my parents looked concerned.
“You’re not planning an Internet campaign or a flash mob, are you?” my mother asked.
“We don’t want you to do anything stupid,” my father added.
“Generally I leave stupid up to Oswald. Always good to let an expert handle things. Me, I’m not planning anything. I don’t even think there’s anything that wrong with school uniforms.”
“I can’t imagine wearing the same thing to work every day,” my father said.
“Really?” I asked. “Don’t you wear a dark suit, white shirt, dress pants and a tie almost every day?”
“But that’s not a uniform,” he said.
“Your suits are all black or dark blue. Your ties are almost all red or blue patterns. If you threw on a school crest, you would be wearing our uniform.”
“There are some benefits to a uniform, I imagine,” my mother said.
“Mr. Roberts says that they’re cheaper than regular clothes, that it makes everybody equal and that it provides for greater security.”
“But Julia doesn’t see it that way,” my mother commented.
“What are her specific objections?” my father asked.
“I don’t know if she has any specific objections. It’s more like the principle of the matter. She hates to be told to do anything. You know about that sort of person,” I answered and gestured toward my mother.
“Hey, hey, none of that!” she said playfully.
“So you do have a problem with the school uniforms,” my father said.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” he repeated. “Your problem is Julia expects you to do something.”
“I guess that is a problem,” I agreed.
“You know the best thing would be to just tell her that you’re okay with the uniforms,” my mother said.
“I don’t see that happening. I’m just going to humor her for a while and let her run out of steam. I don’t know why she’s so upset. It’s really not that big a deal. In lots of countries, kids have to walk miles to get to school, or only the rich can afford to go,” I said.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” my mother said, “that we have so much and so many have so little.”
“Some of the stuff I’m learning in Mr. Roberts’s class is unbelievable,” I said.
“It seems like you’re getting a lot out of that class,” my father added. “You’re always talking about it.”
“It’s a good class, and he’s a really good teacher.” I paused. “I think it’s even helped me to make up my mind what profession I might pursue.”
They both waited.
“I’m thinking it wouldn’t be that bad to be a lawyer.”
My father clapped his hands and my mother beamed. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed.
Both my parents were lawyers—as was my sister, my older brother and a bunch of other relatives. I knew they wanted me to become a lawyer too. I’d always said I was going to be anything but a lawyer.
“And we owe this to Mr. Roberts and his class on social justice…right?”
“Yeah, he opened my eyes to what’s going on in the world. There are lots of places where things aren’t fair, where there isn’t justice.”
“And being a lawyer would help bring about justice,” my father said proudly.
“Some lawyers do bring about justice,” I agreed. “I could fight for human rights, maybe work for an agency that’s trying to help people.”
“That is wonderful,” my mother said. “But that’s a long way off,” I said. “First I have to worry about Julia and this uniform thing. You know, in half the countries in the world kids would be thrilled to get a uniform and be able to go to school. Instead, she’s all upset.”
“Maybe you could explain it to her just like that,” my mother suggested.
“I could,” I said, “but then you’d