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Authors: Ann Ripley
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shoestring,” said Frank, “but with substantial help from people like Barbara Seymour, we set up our first school in Brooklyn. And it succeeded.
“The school’s philosophy,” he said, “is an amalgam, but it’s all laid out in our motivational manual. There’s an element that some call ‘tough love.’ We are absolutely ruthless about disciplining people who won’t follow the rules, or who exhibit disloyalty.”
“Disloyalty,” repeated Louise.
“Yes. From our research, we’ve found that loyalty and obedience to a group are the two most important factors in getting kids through the teen years.”
“And what does disloyalty include?”
“Our creed bans cheating of any kind, premarital sex, homosexuality, adultery … But the message is presented positively, not mired in negative language.”
Soon she was sitting on the edge of her chair, arguing vigorously about their “one-strike-and-you re-out” policy. “I think young people need chance after chance. Tough love or not, it would take more than one mistake for me to kick a child out of my school.”
“Oh, but the child has plenty of forewarning of what’s going to happen.”
She pursed her lips and tried to think of a rejoinder that would adequately display her disapproval while still beingfair to Frank. He explained that the schools were incredibly sensitive to their young clients’ educational needs—much more so than almost any public school, for instance. They employed methods like mental imaging to quicken the learning pace. And they had been so successful. Who was she to criticize their way of doing things?
“And, of course, when punishment is needed,” Frank said, giving her a calm smile, “the punishment fits the crime, as the old song goes.”
“That sounds like the code of Hammurabi to me—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
“The ancients understood many things,” he said solemnly. As he went on talking, she realized her shoulders ached from sitting forward in rapt attention. Her mind was numb from an overabundance of information. But the discomfort was worth it, for now she had some insight into the enigmatic Frank and Jim. They had developed a nondenominational, evangelical creed called, fittingly enough, “Higher Directions,” just like the school. It was a loose church structure set up when the first school opened. No doubt about it: Frank and Jim were true believers, in the tradition of the evangelicals of old. Of course, she reflected, evangelicals had burned witches in Salem, Massachusetts, just a hundred miles or so to the north, and stirred up national religious revivals across the United States. Powerful people, those evangelicals.
And the lovely Fiona Storm believed just as strongly. She chimed in occasionally to add to Frank’s earnest words, gesturing with graceful hands that flashed with a large diamond. “We are making these youth into
new people
,” she declared. The woman might have deferred to Frank earlier, but now she was having her say. It was a brief speech about her “raison d’être,” as she called it. “I was raised on Osage Avenue in Philadelphia. It was a deprived childhood, let me assure you. But someone back then gave me a chance: In my case, it was the Sisters of Mercy. But thatchance enabled me to boost myself out of the ghetto and transform myself into a successful, contributing member of society.”
Louise looked at the woman. She was so attractive that Louise couldn’t imagine her remaining in a deprived environment for long. Movies or television would have claimed her, had not Frank Storm come along first—and even if she weren’t as smart as she obviously was.
Perhaps Fiona read her eyes, for there was a barrier there: She did not like Louise. Maybe Louise was too upper-middle-class? Too associated with the establishment? Her husband
was
with the State Department. Or was it because Louise was connected to the great Mammon television? “I’m
pan
of television, so
“The school’s philosophy,” he said, “is an amalgam, but it’s all laid out in our motivational manual. There’s an element that some call ‘tough love.’ We are absolutely ruthless about disciplining people who won’t follow the rules, or who exhibit disloyalty.”
“Disloyalty,” repeated Louise.
“Yes. From our research, we’ve found that loyalty and obedience to a group are the two most important factors in getting kids through the teen years.”
“And what does disloyalty include?”
“Our creed bans cheating of any kind, premarital sex, homosexuality, adultery … But the message is presented positively, not mired in negative language.”
Soon she was sitting on the edge of her chair, arguing vigorously about their “one-strike-and-you re-out” policy. “I think young people need chance after chance. Tough love or not, it would take more than one mistake for me to kick a child out of my school.”
“Oh, but the child has plenty of forewarning of what’s going to happen.”
She pursed her lips and tried to think of a rejoinder that would adequately display her disapproval while still beingfair to Frank. He explained that the schools were incredibly sensitive to their young clients’ educational needs—much more so than almost any public school, for instance. They employed methods like mental imaging to quicken the learning pace. And they had been so successful. Who was she to criticize their way of doing things?
“And, of course, when punishment is needed,” Frank said, giving her a calm smile, “the punishment fits the crime, as the old song goes.”
“That sounds like the code of Hammurabi to me—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
“The ancients understood many things,” he said solemnly. As he went on talking, she realized her shoulders ached from sitting forward in rapt attention. Her mind was numb from an overabundance of information. But the discomfort was worth it, for now she had some insight into the enigmatic Frank and Jim. They had developed a nondenominational, evangelical creed called, fittingly enough, “Higher Directions,” just like the school. It was a loose church structure set up when the first school opened. No doubt about it: Frank and Jim were true believers, in the tradition of the evangelicals of old. Of course, she reflected, evangelicals had burned witches in Salem, Massachusetts, just a hundred miles or so to the north, and stirred up national religious revivals across the United States. Powerful people, those evangelicals.
And the lovely Fiona Storm believed just as strongly. She chimed in occasionally to add to Frank’s earnest words, gesturing with graceful hands that flashed with a large diamond. “We are making these youth into
new people
,” she declared. The woman might have deferred to Frank earlier, but now she was having her say. It was a brief speech about her “raison d’être,” as she called it. “I was raised on Osage Avenue in Philadelphia. It was a deprived childhood, let me assure you. But someone back then gave me a chance: In my case, it was the Sisters of Mercy. But thatchance enabled me to boost myself out of the ghetto and transform myself into a successful, contributing member of society.”
Louise looked at the woman. She was so attractive that Louise couldn’t imagine her remaining in a deprived environment for long. Movies or television would have claimed her, had not Frank Storm come along first—and even if she weren’t as smart as she obviously was.
Perhaps Fiona read her eyes, for there was a barrier there: She did not like Louise. Maybe Louise was too upper-middle-class? Too associated with the establishment? Her husband
was
with the State Department. Or was it because Louise was connected to the great Mammon television? “I’m
pan
of television, so
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