God's Not Dead 2 by Travis Thrasher

unions stand for something I don’t know?”
    Grace ignores my sarcasm. “Shouldn’t she be sitting on our side?”
    I give her a Really, now let’s grow up a bit look. “Not today.”
    I almost expect Winokur to stand up and have someone crush a gavel on this table while saying, “Hear ye, hear ye . . .”
    Instead, the superintendent clears his throat and then calls everybody to order with a low, Charlton Heston voice. “I assume Ms. Wesley knows this board has the power to recommend any of a number of disciplinary actions, up to and including her termination?”
    Well, there’s nothing like getting to the point, is there?
    I can see Grace about to talk, but I get there before she can.
    “She does. And the board should be aware that in the event of such termination   —which we would view as both wrongful and without cause   —she reserves all rights of redress.”
    Winokur leans forward and glares at me. Suddenly I’m sixteen again and facing my father after wrecking the car I wasn’t supposed to drive.
    “We have discussed the matter of district policy with Ms. Wesley, which she has agreed she broke in her fourth-period history class   —”
    “I’m sure Ms. Wesley didn’t agree she broke any sort of district policy, simply because there was none she could have broken,” I interrupt.
    This prompts the lawyer to speak up. “There are state and federal guidelines that are clearly set in place for classroom situations just like this one, Mr. Endler.”
    “And of course that is why we are all here in this tiny little room, correct? Guidelines for dealing with the reputation of a highly respected teacher who has been out of work for three weeks and has had to deal with financial and emotional repercussions.”
    The financial and emotional things have never come up once with Grace, but of course they’re huge and demand an answer on our side of the table.
    Bob Fessler instantly backs down and puts on that evil Jeremy Irons smile of his that reminds me of Scar from The Lion King . “There might be a way around all of this unpleasantness that would satisfy all parties.”
    There’s that word again: satisfy . The box I put the school’s attorney in is called Appease . He wants to make sure the school is happy and the principal is happy and his family is happy and he is happy and everything just goes away in a nice and tidy manner.
    Everyone faces Fessler as he continues. “We can simply all leave here with a disciplinary notice in Ms. Wesley’s file stating the board’s objections to her behavior. That and a response from Ms. Wesley acknowledging the inappropriateness of and apologizing for her actions, along with a pledge not to engage in similar discussions in the future.”
    I didn’t expect Fessler to go there so soon. I didn’t think it would be this easy.
    Now Grace can go back to a classroom and a paycheck, Kinney can go back to law and order, Fessler can buy himself another suit, and I can go back to more paperwork over educationalese.
    And God doesn’t have to be bothered anymore.
    I nod. “I’m confident we can move forward on that basis   —”
    “No.” Grace looks at me as she says this. Then she turns to the firing squad across the table. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
    Well, that was short-lived. . . .
    “I’d like to request a brief recess to have a word with my client,” I say in the most optimistic tone I can muster.
    My client who just lost her mind.
    I stand up and wait for Grace, looking at her and seeing no trace of regret for her words. We get into the narrow hallway outside the conference room and I just shake my head and laugh. “You do understand what’s happening in there, right?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down.
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. So I’ll just sum it up in the best way possible. This is the part where you say you’re sorry, thank me   —your lawyer   —and then go back to your classroom, pick up your life, and move on. No headlines, no