Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature (11 page)

She reached out and fluffed Casey's hair into an even larger heap of curls. “How's it goin’, little bro?”

He flicked off her hand like it was no more bothersome than a mosquito. And he didn't even bother fixing his hair. I kind of liked that. “What'd you find out?” he asked his sister. “In the hall?”

“Big doin's. Wouldn't wanna ruin it for you. Just a little compromise they worked out at the school board last night so we could get outta there before sunrise. So,” she asked me, “any flak from your mom?”

“Huh? Oh no—she bought it.”

“Great. Listen, I'm gonna be a little tight for time this afternoon. Gotta meet some people for the paper. If you need a ride again, I'll have to take you early.”

“Okay, thanks—”

“That's great, K,” said Casey, showing some irritation.
“Don't worry about us. I'm sure we'll get to our project one of these days. What, is it the competition that scares you? Can't stand to see our names on Ms. Shepherd's website?”

“Don't get your tighty-whities in a bunch, little man. I'm only talking half an hour. You'll still have plenty of time.” Kayla winked at me. “He's so cute when he's freakin’ out.”

The door opened again, and the trio returned. Ms. Shepherd did not look happy. In fact, the way she was glaring at Pastor Wells, I'm surprised his skin didn't melt right off his face.

“Apparently,” Ms. Shepherd said, her lips tight, “this gentleman will be allowed to make a statement.”

I hated myself for looking at Teresa right then, but I couldn't help it—it was just a reflex. She flashed me a triumphant smile.

“Unbelievable,” Kayla said, making no attempt to lower her voice. Ms. Shepherd gave her a subtle shake of the head. Kayla folded herself into the empty chair beside me and flipped open her pocket-sized notebook.

Pastor Wells held out his hand for the sheet of paper clenched in Ms. Shepherd's fist. “May I?” She didn't look at him as she handed it over. Pastor Wells slipped on his glasses and read. “ ‘Experts agree—’ “

Ms. Shepherd made a choking sound like she had just swallowed glass. She gulped down a big swig of her Starbucks.

Pastor Wells began again. “ ‘Experts agree that Darwin's so-called theory of evolution is just that—a theory.’ “

“Like the theory of gravity?” Kayla called out. “Or don't you believe in that?”

A bunch of us laughed, but Mrs. Martinez was not amused. “Miss Connor, that will be enough.”

“Here for the paper,” Kayla answered, waving her notebook. “Just want to get my facts straight.”

Pastor Wells tried giving Kayla the kind of look he gave me, but his powers obviously didn't work on her. She smiled and motioned for him to continue.

Which he did. “ ‘Because it is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. Until such time as evolution is proven, it remains a theory, not a fact.’ “

Kayla raised her hand. Pastor Wells ignored her. He continued to read, faster now.

“ ‘Intelligent design is an alternative explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin's view. Students are encouraged to question Darwin's unproven theory and to request and expect answers related to intelligent design.’ “

Pastor Wells surveyed the class over the top of his glasses in that omnipotent way he has. He seemed pretty content with himself.

Ms. Shepherd, on the other hand, looked five steps beyond grim. “And now back to our constitutionally mandated curriculum. If you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”

Pastor Wells stiffened and Mrs. Martinez started to object, but Ms. Shepherd pressed on. “Let me remind you,” she told us, “and so you won't be confused by this gentleman, intelligent design is not science.”

“As I said, it is an alternative theory—”

“Hey. Chief,” she interrupted. “You had your say, now it's mine.”

I'd never heard anyone talk to Pastor Wells like that. From the look on his face, he hadn't, either.

“Let's start with a definition,” Ms. Shepherd said. You could see that each word hurt her, like she resented even having to open her mouth just because Pastor Wells had barged into her classroom.

“In science the word
theory
doesn't mean what it does in everyday conversation. It's not a guess or a hunch. It's a well-reasoned, PROVABLE explanation for something we see in the natural world. A theory has to stand up to testing and proof. It has to survive being challenged by other scientists over and over again. The theory of evolution has done that. It's real. It works. And let's get this straight: in science, it's not a theory's job to become a fact. Theories are there to EXPLAIN facts. To tell us why we're seeing what we see. That's the beauty of a unifying theory like evolution—it gives us a structure so we can understand our world.”

She picked up more energy the longer she spoke. Like she'd been keeping it all in, ready to explode once someone jostled the plug.

“Intelligent design, on the other hand, is in no shape or form science.”

Pastor Wells tried to interrupt again, but Ms. Shepherd shut him down. “I am TIRED of this particular lie. It's my duty to expose it. In this class we deal in facts.
Intelligent design is not a fact, it's a philosophy. It wants to tell us who is behind it all. That isn't science. It will never be science.

“Science is the HOW of things. It's about observation and explanations. It's not science's business to tell you whether God or Buddha or the Sky King made this earth. Science's job is to tell you what we see and let you decide anything more for yourself. Why are we here? Who dun-nit? Not my business or any other scientist's to tell you. That is the beauty of this discipline. It leaves us free to decide for ourselves.

“Now perhaps we can return to SCIENCE, which is why I, personally, am here. Any questions? Yes, Ms. Connor?”

I know for a fact Kayla hadn't raised her hand. She smiled and jumped right in.

“Yes, thank you. Kayla Connor from the
New Advantage Post.
Mr. Wells—”

“Pastor
Wells.”

“Sir,
I understand from your remarks at the school board meeting last night that you would like the subject of evolution to be banned entirely throughout the school system.”

“Until it is a proven fact, yes.”

“Uh-huh. So does that go for all the theories? A lot of scientists still consider gravity a theory. And what about relativity—I suppose Einstein got it wrong, too?”

Pastor Wells ignored the snickers. “I'm here to talk about Mr. Darwin,” he said with easy confidence, “and his unsubstantiated claims.”

“I see.” Kayla squinted at him and tapped her pen
against her notebook. “Speaking of unsubstantiated, I noticed on your website you offer a book claiming dinosaurs lived at the same time as Adam and Eve—and apparently they were even on Noah's Ark. Since that defies anything found in the fossil record, I'm just curious what your proof is.”

Pastor Wells wasn't nearly as cheerful this time. “As you know, young lady, I didn't write that book. But I do believe in it. I don't claim to be a scientist” (he said it like it was a bad word), “but I know there are plenty of them who support intelligent design. If not for the Darwinian agenda going on in this country right now, you'd hear a lot more about it. That's why our schools need to teach this controversy—to be fair to students and let them decide for themselves what's right.”

“Well, then wouldn't it be fair to explain to students that there's no scientific basis for your claims—”

“Yes, Adam?” Pastor Wells interrupted, pointing toward the back. “You had a question?”

But of course Adam did not. This debate was already way over his head. “Uh … yeah. Um …”

Ms. Shepherd couldn't take it anymore. “That's enough,” she snapped. “Last time I checked, I was the one being underpaid to do this job. Visiting hours are over. It's time to get back to work. Open your books to page ninety-five. Ms. Bailey, you will read.”

For a minute there was a tense sort of standoff. Pastor Wells held his position in front of Ms. Shepherd's desk, acting as if he had no intention of ever moving. Ms.
Shepherd filled up the space right next to him, practically standing on top of his loafers.

Meanwhile, poor Hannah Bailey didn't know what to do. It's like she was waiting for Pastor Wells's permission, even though she doesn't even go to our church. He has that effect on people.

“Ms. Bailey,” Ms. Shepherd repeated.

Hannah jerked into action and flipped through her book.

Suddenly Ms. Shepherd's hand shot behind Pastor Wells's back, and he must have thought she was going to goose him or something, because he jolted forward with a surprised little grunt.

With Pastor Wells off balance, Ms. Shepherd swiftly stepped into place—she might have even hip-checked him, I'm not sure, it happened so fast—and reclaimed her space at the front of the class.

“Easy there, big fella,” she told the startled Pastor Wells, who was still gawking at her like she'd tried to molest him. Ms. Shepherd held up the marker she'd been reaching for behind him on the desk.

Casey and his sister exchanged a look of such glee, I thought they might actually hug.

Pastor Wells still tried to stand his ground, a micrometer away from Ms. Shepherd, like a little boy refusing to budge. Ms. Shepherd was not the least amused.

“I can't help but wonder,” she said to our principal, “if the history teachers of this school are being forced to read statements from Holocaust deniers during their section on
World War II. Or whether members of the Ku Klux Klan get equal time during Civil Rights Week. Or if it's only the science department being singled out for this great honor of catering to special-interest groups.”

Mrs. Martinez looked even sicker than when she came in. “We should go,” she told Pastor Wells. Maybe she thought the whole thing would happen differently, although I can't see how if she knows Ms. Shepherd at all. But I suppose Pastor Wells bullied her into it. He's famous for that. All he has to do is threaten a lawsuit or a boycott, and suddenly people are falling all over themselves to do what he says.

“Ask questions,” Pastor Wells boomed at us in parting. “Demand to hear both sides. God gave you brains. Don't be ashamed to use them.” Then he strode toward the door like it had been his decision to leave.

Once he was gone, the whole class slumped back into their seats like the scary carnival ride was over. Kayla scribbled furiously in her notebook.

Ms. Shepherd stood silent for a moment, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her scuffed black shoe against the floor.

“Let me be clear about something, people,” she began in a quiet, tense voice that intensified with every word. “I am a scientist. It is what I love. It is what I'm good at.

“Anyone who wants to ask me a question about science is welcome. I am thrilled to teach you what I know. I am thrilled to open your minds. The universe is vast and wonderful, and I want to share with you what
we've learned about it. It is why I am here. I hope to fill you all with the same passion for knowledge that I have.

“But I also happen to be a lover of the Bill of Rights. I appreciate the freedoms this country stands for. So if any of you have a question about what the United States Supreme Court says I should teach you about science, you're welcome to come look at my files.

“In the meantime,” she said, her lips tight and stern, “the next person who tries to mix religion with MY taxpayer-funded public school curriculum will be invited to spend the hour with their counselor looking for another class. In here we are not interested in philosophy or personal convictions. We are interested in FACTS. I am paid to teach you FACTS. Now open your books and let us go back to LEARNING.”

Kayla bolted to her feet, cheering and clapping like mad. Soon Casey and Josh and the photographer and I joined in, and while Ms. Shepherd stood there practically shaking with intensity, everyone but the Back Turners clapped and hooted and yelled. It was chaos. It was beautiful. I've never seen Teresa so mad.

She just couldn't let it go. Teresa waited for the room to settle down, then stood to make her speech.

“Ms. Shepherd, on behalf of the Christian body—”

I swear, she stuck out her chest.

“—we demand you include information about intelligent design so that we can understand both sides of the controversy.”

“And I demand intelligence, PERIOD,” Ms. Shepherd answered. “Now for the last time, open your books, and Ms. Bailey, you will READ.”

Round one to Ms. Shepherd.

But I know there's more to come.

Twenty-two

“Want to see my sister's website?”

Did I ever. We didn't have a chance to look it up at lunch, since instead of going to the library, Casey and I had accepted Kayla's invitation to brown-bag it with her and Josh outside on the bleachers and rehash everything that had just happened in Ms. Shepherd's class. Of course, I didn't bring my lunch today since I never seem to get around to eating it, so I had to bum some grapes and chips and an orange off Kayla. That girl eats enough for five.

So it wasn't until later, when I was over at Casey's house, that we finally looked at the website. We were taking a break from the project because little Orange—sorry, “Duke,” since somebody bought him this morning and named him—hadn't performed so well on the airplane test. He did all right when Casey just lifted him in the air, but once he started spinning around, Duke threw up kibble all down the front of Casey's shirt.

It was colorful and elaborate—Kayla's website, not the puke—with all sorts of flashing graphics and a slide show
and news clips and Kayla's daily blog (called “News-junkees’ Fix”).

“Wow, did Kayla do all this herself?”

“No, it's Josh. He's really great at web design. He did Ms. Shepherd's and my mom's, too.”

Casey scrolled down until he got to a box marked
Joshuwear.
He clicked on it, and a selection of T-shirts came up. Under
NEW!
was a shirt saying
Proud to Have Evolved.

“He adds new ones every week,” Casey said.

“How long does it take him? To make a new one, I mean.”

“Maybe an hour on the design, another hour to make a screen of it—depends on how elaborate it is. Then he churns out however many people order.”