“But daddy how come we can see it?” Johnny asked puzzled.
“Because it’s moving Johnny. Look it’s moving across the sky above us. See that? It looks like a star but it’s moving slowly against the background of stars so we know it’s not a star,” Johnny’s father explained patiently.
“But…”
“Be quiet Johnny!” his father cut him off sharply. “Just watch. We are very privileged to be able to see this. It’s history in the making.”
It was quite a crowd. Practically the entire neighbourhood had gathered in the street in the chilly night air to witness the event. The first man made satellite had been successfully launched into space and was orbiting the earth. Throngs of people all over the parts of the world in darkness were watching the sky with binoculars, hobby telescopes and their naked eyes to catch a glimpse of the tiny moving object above them as it slowly made its way from one horizon to the other.
“How far up in the sky is it?” Johnny asked his father.
“About 100 miles I think,” his father said without taking his eyes of the moving light in the sky. Like everyone else in the street he stood almost transfixed head tilted upwards watching the spectacle in the sky.
“Gee it must be big,” Johnny said with a sense of awe and wide-eyed wonderment in his voice.
His father looked down at his seven-year-old son and smiled patronisingly.
“Actually Johnny it’s only about this big,” he said, stretching his arms out from side to side. “It could probably rest comfortably on your bed.”
“Really?” Johnny gasped.
The little boy momentarily fell into silent thought. The puzzled expression returned to his face.
Johnny had always been an extremely bright little boy. His big brown inquisitive eyes, fair skin and golden blonde hair combined to convey the appearance of a budding young intellect literally brimming with potential. At times, however, his inquisitive nature became tiresome. This was especially the case when he asked questions beyond the limits of the knowledge of his less than intellectual father.
Often Johnny found himself deep in thought wondering about questions that one would not expect a child of his tender years to even consider. How did I get here? How did the world start? How will it end? Incredible as though it may seem, these were just some of the questions Johnny pondered silently. He had learned not to ask such things of his elders because they would just shake their heads with bemusement. He realised soon enough that they had no answers.
However, as Johnny looked up at the moving point of light in the sky, he couldn’t resist asking another question of his father.
He stretched his arms out from side to side the way his father had a minute earlier.
“Dad, if it’s 100 miles away and only this big, how come we can see it? I can’t see things this big if they’re only one mile away,” Johnny asked tentatively, knowing his father would soon lose patience and get cross with him.
His father glared down at him momentarily and then relaxed his expression a little as he remembered that he was talking to a child.
He thought for a moment trying to figure out an appropriate answer. Then with a triumphant and somewhat smug smile, as if he had just laid down the winning hand in a poker game, he said: “Because the sun is shining on it Johnny. It’s reflecting the light of the sun.”
Father’s momentary feeling of exultation, however, was destined to be short lived.
“But dad, it’s night-time,” Johnny said, looking up at his father quizzically. “The sun is on the other side of the earth. How can it be shining on the satellite?”
The blood drained from his father’s face and his breathing shallowed as he tried to control his temper. “Am I really this boy’s father?” he wondered.
“You can see the moon at night can’t you,” his father said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “That’s because the sun is shining on it.”
“Yes but the moon is hundreds of thousands of miles away,” Johnny shot back immediately. “The satellite is only a hundred miles up. That’s not very high compared to the diameter of the earth which is 7,900 miles our teacher says.”
Father swore under his breath and his cheeks flushed. “It’s high enough!” he snapped, trying to keep the volume of his voice under control.
Some of the neighbours had taken notice of the tête-à-tête between father and son and were looking on with amusement.
“The little brat is making a fool out of me,” Johnny’s father thought as he tried to maintain some semblance of self-control.
He grabbed Johnny’s hand and started to lead him away from the crowd. “ Come on it’s late. Time to go home,” he said in a ‘don’t you dare argue with me’ kind of voice.
“But dad…”
“No more questions!” His father was no longer trying to control his voice as he literally dragged his inquisitive offspring down the crowded street toward their house.
This was the way their discussions usually ended so Johnny was not surprised at his father’s behaviour. “Why can’t he admit that he just doesn’t know?” he wondered.
At least Johnny’s mother usually conceded that his questions were beyond her scope of knowledge. “I don’t know darling, ask your father,” was her usual response. Being an obedient son, that’s what he always did.
The next day Johnny’s mother arrived at the Principal’s office of Johnny’s school. Johnny was sitting in a chair outside the office, head bowed, and staring at the floor with a frown on his face.
She sat down in a chair next to him and put her arm on his shoulder. “Darling what happened? What did you do?” she asked anxiously.
“Miss Jameson hit me with a ruler. I told her it was wrong to do that,” Johnny said in a determined voice without taking his eyes off the floor.
“Oh Johnny, you can’t do things like that!” his mother said with dismay.
“Things like what? What did I do?” he asked, not taking his eyes of the floor.
“You can’t tell your teacher she’s wrong. Why did she hit you with a ruler?” his mother asked.
“She told me I asked too many questions,” Johnny answered, eyes still firmly focussed on the floor.
His mother shook his shoulder and her voice grew stern. “Johnny look at me!” she commanded.
He finally raised his head and turned to look his mother in the eyes. “What he saw was a mixture of love and concern, with a tinge of fear.
“What questions did you ask her?” his mother asked with interest.
“She told us that the world and the universe began with a big explosion billions of years ago,” he said. “I asked her how she knew that. She said scientists have noticed that the planets and the stars are all moving away from each other. So at one time they must have all been squashed together into a little ball the size of a pea which then exploded with a big bang.”
“Really?” his mother said with a sense of wonder in her voice. “I didn’t know that. So what happened next?”
“I asked what was there before the little pea and Miss Jameson said nothing. She said that the little pea was the beginning of the universe and there was nothing before that.”
“So what happened then?” his mother asked, suddenly impressed and more than a little awestruck that her young child was able to hold such a conversation with an adult.
“I said that didn’t make sense. Someone must have made the little pea for it to be there. So there must have been something before the little pea.”
Johnny’s mother looked at him with wonderment. Where were these ideas coming from?
“So what happened next?” she asked, trying to hide the fact that she was impressed with her son’s intellect.
“She told me that I had asked enough questions and that I was starting to disrupt the lesson,” Johnny said with a sigh.
“I said if she could just tell me who made the little pea I wouldn’t ask any more questions today. She then walked up to my desk, grabbed my hand and started whacking it with her ruler. While she was hitting my hand she kept yelling at me, ‘I said no more questions today, no more questions today!’ She wouldn’t stop so I yanked my hand away and told her that it was wrong to hit me for asking questions. So she grabbed my collar and dragged me here.”
“Oh darling, really? You shouldn’t disobey your teacher,” his mother said, not knowing what else to say.
Johnny shook his head firmly and looked at the floor once again. “I was just asking questions,” he muttered with self-righteous conviction.
At that moment, the door of the Principal’s office opened and the portly frame of Principal Jenkins appeared in the doorway.
“Please come in,” he said to mother and son with a smile and an outstretched arm.
Johnny and his mother entered the office and settled into seats on the opposite side of a large mahogany desk to Principal Jenkins.
Aside from a large shiny bronze paperweight, the desk was totally devoid of anything that showed it was being used for the sort of work for which desks are normally used.
Johnny wondered what purpose the desk served, other than for the Principal to rest his hands. “Does he actually do any work on that desk,” he mused silently.
Principal Jenkins looked across the desk with a serious expression on his face and surveyed mother and son silently.
He was a career primary school educator with 20 years experience in the government education system.
“Well,” he said after a thoughtfully considered delay, “it seems that young Johnny has a problem with authority.”
“What do you mean,” Johnny’s mother asked nervously.
“ Miss Jameson says that Johnny flat out refused to obey her instructions and was uncooperative when she tried to discipline him,” Principal Jenkins answered.
“I was just asking questions,” Johnny interjected in a defiant voice.
“Be quiet Johnny!” his mother commanded before the Principal could respond.
“We can’t have students disrupting classes by refusing to obey their teachers,” the Principal continued.
“I was just asking questions,” Johnny repeated in an even more defiant voice. “I didn’t deserve to be whacked with a ruler.”
“Johnny! That’s enough!” his mother said sharply in a raised voice.
The Principal smiled ruefully. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “The boy has a problem with authority.”
Johnny’s mother looked across at the Principal and then she looked at her son whose eyes were still focussed on the floor. She remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.
“Principal Jenkins, can you explain to me why Miss Jameson felt it was necessary to hit my son repeatedly with a ruler. He has bruises on his right hand.”
Johnny raised his right hand to verify his mother’s assertion.
The Principal was caught off guard. “Well…it was necessary because Johnny refused to obey Miss Jameson’s instructions,” he said, slightly flustered at the unexpected question.
“Yes, but he was just asking questions wasn’t he?” Johnny’s mother asked just to make sure she understood all the facts.
“Well yes, but Miss Jameson clearly told him to stop asking questions,” the Principal replied a trifle uncertainly.
“Yes that’s true Mr Jenkins but do you really think that’s a satisfactory way to deal with a young enquiring mind?” Johnny’s mother asked earnestly.
The principal grunted and cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said as he got up to pour himself a glass of water from a pitcher resting on a shelf next to his desk. He acted as though he was trying to buy some thinking time.
“Sorry, I have a bit of a dry throat,” he explained as he took a few sips.
He sat down and shuffled in his seat before resuming the discussion. He was clearly unsure of how to respond to the question posed by Johnny’s mother.
“You see there’s a difference between an enquiring mind and a disruptive influence…,” he started, before being cut off by Johnny’s mother.
“Why is a child asking questions of his teacher considered to be a disruptive influence?” she asked.
“Well, well, well….because if one child is allowed to get away with doing it then the other children will, will, will….want to do it too,” he said, fumbling for words.
“So you think it’s a bad thing for children to be asking questions of their teachers,” Johnny’s mother said. It was statement rather than a question.
“I didn’t say that…” he started, before being cut-off.
“Well what then?” she demanded.
The principal was clearly outclassed by this young determined mother and he knew it. As is often the case when an animal – or human – is cornered, the only option was to go on the attack.
“I think perhaps this school is not a suitable place for Johnny. Perhaps he would be better off in a special needs institution,” he said.
Johnny’s mother stared at the principal in disbelief.
So intense was her gaze that he felt as though her eyes were piercing his soul. This woman was making him extremely uncomfortable.
She spoke slowly and quietly, which made her tone all the more ominous. “Are you saying that my son is somehow backward, retarded?” she said, her voice rising in tenor with each word.
“Well….,” he said, not even making an attempt at finishing the sentence knowing she would cut him off.
“Is he a bad reader? No? Is he bad with numbers? No? How is his writing? Quite alright? If it’s none of those things then how is my son backward,” Johnny’s mother snapped, now openly hostile.
“Socially, socially….” the principal started before being cut-off again.
“My son has friends, quite a few actually. He’s very popular among the local kids in our street,” she said.
“He doesn’t have many friends in his class,” the principal said. “None in fact.”
“That’s probably because he’s way more intelligent than the others,” she shot back. “Instead of just sitting back and listening, Johnny actually participates in classes – and asks questions!”
At that moment Johnny raised his head and interjected, “Principal Jenkins, mom, may I ask a question?”
Both his mother and the principal, surprised at the unexpected intrusion into their quarrel, stopped in their tracks and stared at him open mouthed.
Taking their silence as a yes answer, he continued.
“Does either of you know who made the little pea?”
