Sanction Line (Extended)

Blinking Twice

For the past few weeks in Arrington Prep, the two janitors, Mr. Wilt and Mr. Peterson were caught in frustration, and so were the other school staff.  On four separate occasions, amputated chairs and tables were found strewn all over in two consecutive classrooms on the third floor and three on the second, brooms and dustpans snapped in half, and a minor incident where three blackboards were scratched and one reportedly missing chalkboard eraser

Ms. Dolores Montgomery, the esteemed prefect of discipline in the institute, looked amongst her fellow faculty with an agitated look on her face

“If it were those gangs that call themselves ‘fraternities’, I would make sure that every member in this school would be weeded out.” 

Several of her colleagues had thought of the same.  For as long as the school had been established, communities of informal settlers had bordered it.  This fact would obviously lead to this theory, and could not be dismissed so easily.

“However, we’ve been here for fifty years.  Could it be that youth these days are that violent?”  A quiet Mrs. Digby asked.

“It might have been because of this drought.  I—“

 "You can’t blame the heat, Miriam.  And you can’t underestimate them.”  Mr. Bantor said.

“You didn’t let me finish, Richard,” said the interrupted Mrs. Retna. “Power outages.  We’ve had rotational power outages since this drought started drying up our hydroelectric systems.  They could’ve used that as an advantage.”

“I highly doubt that,” remarked the elderly Physics teacher, Mr. Wyatt.  “All incidents happened when our area’s scheduled blackouts were from 8 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon.  I remember having had to reschedule my lab works.”

“It’s the security that we should be looking in to.  What did Bill say?”    

“He’s hiring new security staff when he comes back this Monday.  Students aren’t allowed on the second and third floor halls after five’ thirty.  Gates would be closed by then, and they are impenetrable,” Mrs. Treble insisted.

“If they were impenetrable, Jane, then we shouldn’t be having this problem right now,” huffed Mr. Bantor. 

“Maybe giving a curfew to the students,” suggested Mr. Lumher.  “Giving them until six’ thirty before leaving the whole premises?” 

“What about those parents who pick up their children late?  Shouldn’t they be safer inside?”

“But what about the varsity teams practices?”

 “Shouldn’t we have this matter investigated?”

 “We had that last week remember?  The police still have no leads.”

 “Are we sure that these aren’t the doings of students?”

 As they went on flinging their concerns as they conducted the longest and most aggravating monthly faculty meeting they’ve ever had, Allen Parker walks past the audio-visual room, carrying two pairs of broken sticks, with two of them pathetically holding on to strands of straw.  Just two staircases down, turning left, was the janitors’ office.  He knocked on the old wooden door hoping there was someone who could help.  A middle-aged man with a bit of a moustache growing opened the door.

“Hey Mr. Wilt.”  He showed his cargo that made Mr. Wilt raise one eyebrow.

 “Not surprised.”  The janitor pointed to a box labeled in obscure in the corner.  “Just pick one out, boy.  Those just arrived this morning.”