
Jane Dickins rubbed her opal ring nervously as she sat on the edge of the black leather chair in the principal's office. Outside the window maple trees dropped colorful leaves on the sidewalk, and children scuffed through them, shouting.
"This," said Terence Beacham, leaning across his large wooden desk so his black Kennedy-styled bangs draped over his forehead, "is your stungun." He handed her a slim grey metal box that looked like something off the set of Star Trek. "I know you'll use it carefully, but don't worry if you hit the wrong kid now and then--the kids all know they've done something to deserve it." He sat back in his emerald green executive chair and smiled. "Welcome to Tampa Sixth Grade Center."
Jane turned the device over gingerly, being careful not to chip her fingernail polish. Two penny-sized red buttons on one side glared at her like beady eyes. "I'd heard the National Education Association was concerned about discipline in the classroom, but I didn't know teachers had to carry guns." Then a wave of indignation engulfed her. They shoot children, do they?! "I won't be needing it!" She held the gun by its snout, offering its butt to Mr. Beacham.
Terence shook his head. His styled hair tossed wholesomely, and he smiled. "Your fingerprints have been programmed into the trigger, so the students can't use it on you if they get it away from you."
He was so different from gray-haired Mrs. Talley, who had been principal when Jane attended this school. Jane tried to imitate Mrs. Talley's cool stare on Mr. Beacham, but he continued unabashed.
"Press both buttons simultaneously to fire the stun beam. The two buttons are far apart so you can't accidentally fire the gun when you pick it up. I charged the gun last night--it holds enough charge for 100 shots. Each shot will put a child out for two hours. They'll learn not to disobey you." Terence clasped his hands behind his neck, exposing his sweat-free armpits. "If that's not enough for one day, you can recharge it during your lunch break."