Harrison started laying the groundwork for this Thursday night, and I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t see what was coming.

“After the career fair tomorrow we have outside time for three hours,” he claimed. “But I’ll be stuck inside the whole time because I didn’t have my Brave Card.”

“That’s tough for you,” I commented, not giving much thought to what he was saying. “You should keep up with your Brave Card.”

For those who don’t know, the Brave Card is the most important document a middle schooler at Oconee County Middle School possesses. If a student is disruptive in class, he must produce his Brave Card so that his teacher can mark it. If he forget his homework, the Brave Card gets marked. If he has to go to his locker because he was unprepared for class, that’s a mark on the Brave Card.

And when there are special treats – like an afternoon of outside time – only those students with no marks on their Brave Card can participate.

But woe to the student who loses his Brave Card.

If a teacher asks a student for his Brave Card, and he does not have his Brave Card, he is damned to eternity in the Sixth Circle of Hell (reserved for heretics and students who lose their Brave Cards). Harrison has served a fair number of detentions in the Sixth Circle of Hell and has done a better job in eighth grade of keeping up with his Brave Card.

But Thursday he did not have the Brave Card, and so while his classmates were given three hours of outside time Friday afternoon, Harrison was going to be stuck inside.

It should be noted that I do not have any idea whether or not students were really given three hours of “outside time.” This is the story Harrison told, and it may be that the “outside time” was a complete fabrication to lend credence to his plan.

The Oconee Leader for the past three years has participated in the career day. Marcia Laster, the college and career coordinator at Oconee County High School, organizes the day for eighth graders at both Malcom Bridge and Oconee Middle. Several local businesses, high school clubs and government agencies set up booths at the Civic Center. Students from the schools walk around and talk to the people at the booths about their careers, educational background and what they like or don’t like about their jobs.

Not every eighth grader is going to have an interest in what I do for a living, but some of them ask really worthwhile questions, some of them express a sincere desire to get into journalism. I’ve always enjoyed setting up a booth at the career fair, and I was really looking forward to it this year because I expected to know a lot of Harrison’s classmates who would be there.

As the students from Oconee Middle began entering the Civic Center, I spotted Harrison near the front of the crowd. He had seen me, and even though he knows all about my career and my educational background and what I like and don’t like about my job, he cut a direct path to The Oconee Leader’s career fair table.

I expected, because I’d told him not to ask people how much money they make, that his first question to me would be how much money I make. Obviously, as I get older and farther in years from my own eighth grade experience, I’m starting to lose my edge as a father. I should have anticipated what was coming:

“Can you check me out of school?”

I should have known. Of course that’s where this was headed. As a parent, I must understand that if my teenager deigns to speak to me there is lurking somewhere in there an ulterior motive. He hadn’t opened up to me the evening before and shared with me the frustrations and anxieties of being a teenager when he’d told me all about not having his Brave Card and the outside time. He had formulated a plan to get himself out of school and begun the foundations of his plan the evening before.

Well, I wasn’t about to be suckered.

“No,” I told him.

His friends were all gathered around watching. “Please,” he said. And, for the benefit of his friends, I suppose, he put together a string of teenage speak: “Brave Card. Outside time. Me inside. Not fair. Check me out. Please.”

“You should have kept up with your Brave Card,” I told him, peering around for some future journalist to talk to. “Get out of here.”

Harrison slunked away with his friends teasing him that he would be stuck inside during outside time and that his father hates him.

But he wasn’t defeated. I talked to a girl named Abby who appeared to be interested in what I had to say and was again enjoying the career fair. Then Harrison and his friends were back. He started listing all of his friends who were getting checked out after the career fair, and I’m not positive about the eighth grade enrollment at OCMS, but I’m pretty sure Harrison listed close to 2,000 names.

“I’ll be the only one there,” he pleaded.

“Go bother the guys from the Army,” I said, pointing to the corner of the room where the military was set up.

He slunked away again.

My dad and I were leaving immediately after the career fair to a meeting in Monroe, and when Harrison saw his grandfather come in he thought he had an easy mark. I’m pretty sure I saw him knock over some of his classmates in a bid to get to his grandfather before his grandfather got to me.

Dad gave him the same answer I did. However if we hadn’t been leaving for a meeting, I think my father would have checked him out. I want to note for the record that when I was in school my dad never once checked me out simply because I didn’t want to be stuck at school, and I consider this further evidence that grandparents are nicer than parents.

What my dad did do was hand Harrison his cell phone. Harrison called Jean, and I caught his side of the conversation: “Brave Card. Outside time. Me inside. Not fair. Check me out. Please.”

He handed the phone back to his grandfather and looked at me with a grin that said: “I love mom more than you.”

Obviously, mothers are also nicer than fathers.

Rob Peecher is editor of The Oconee Leader and believes that if he has to be stuck at work all day then his kids should be stuck in school.

---