Trigesimus Quartus Gradus

Judge Marshall wiped his mouth, hand shaking, before lurching forward once more and vomiting into the pink porcelain bowl. When he finished, he gasped, then rose to a quivering stride to the sink. Here he cleaned his spattered face and dragged eye boogers from the corners of his eyes, flicking them to the tile floor. There was a knock outside the door.

Judge Marshall winced as his arms—hands shaking—shot up to head level and hovered around his ears for an instant. Hesitant, he forced his arms to droop low as the door cracked open.

“Your Honor,” Ms. Dawson chimed, “the Court is ready to proceed.”

He hated her glistening white, perfect teeth. They made him recoil.

“I am the Court. And stop smiling.”

“Also,” she added, smiling, “Principal Lars is on the line. Again.” When it was clear that the judge intended to ignore the call, she finished: “he wants you to know that if your son’s grades don’t improve he will be disqualified from school-sponsored sports.” She ducked out of the room, chuckling, as an empty paper towel roll clattered against the doorframe.

The dim courtroom fell silent as the massive chamber door clanged open and banged shut with a satisfying snikt. Judge Marshall stormed up to the judge’s bench. His face was red, his eyes puffy, his shoulder thin and hunched as he huffed into the soft-cushioned seat. Suddenly the courtroom was filled with whispers. Deliberations by the lawyers, petty conversation among the observers. The bailiff winked at a woman in the crowd. She handed a bill to the man next to her, who shuffled over and delivered it to the officer.

Where, pray tell, has respect run off to? Marshall wondered. He took a moment to breathe and refresh himself on the contents of the case. The plaintiff, an under-qualified prospective employee suing on the grounds of unfair hiring practices. The defendant, some corporate entity based God-knows-where arguing that the spoiled-rotten rich frat kid doesn’t deserve a spot on their managerial staff just because he passed with a C in his macroeconomics program while hungover last semester. Their multi-million-dollar lawyering team will spend too much time arguing as if they hadn’t already won the case.

“Ordery—ahem—Order in the court!” Judge Marshall banged his water glass on the stand. Shooting a confused glance at it, he set it down and picked up his gavel. A quick scratch behind the ear with the handle will do. He threw a pen at the court reporter, shouting, “I heard six too many key-clicks, Mr. McKay!”

“Now then,” he groaned, “who wants to go first?”

Several rounds of verbal combat later, Judge Marshall was itching for a soothing salt bath and a few glasses, make it bottles, of wine. As he predicted, the defendants had dominated the time on the stand. Through it all, his mind had not been changed, except to make the plaintiff’s spoiled tantrum more absurd. Of course, the plaintiff had no room to accuse the defendants of unfair treatment, no matter how much he or his daddy whined to the bench. Of course the plaintiff needs to know that Yucatán is not one of the fifty United States if he wants to be the company’s Lead Sales Ambassador for Foreign Nations in the Western Hemisphere. Of course the company is within its rights to ask him if he knows, indeed, that The Free and Sovereign State of Yucatán is not one of the fifty United States.

“But your Honor,” Mr. Ewing begged with his pouty blue eyes. This was his last chance to convince Judge Marshall to decide in his favor. “Consider this document…” the judge nodded, chuckling, and the bailiff brought the paper up to the bench “…it’s a graded examination from my fifth grade year at Saint Lincoln-Washington West Eagle Elementary School of Freedom. Notice the teacher’s marks on question 8, your Honor.”

Judge Marshall’s eyes widened. The date on the paper matched Mr. Ewing’s age, it had Mr. Ewing’s name, and it had the title of the school in full display along with its symbol—an eagle eye the iris of which was painted like an American flag. It was legitimate evidence. Question 8 read, “Which of these is among the fifty states of the United States of America?” Of the four options, Yucatán was one. Mr. Ewing had not selected it, nor the correct answer, but the teacher had not indicated which of the four was the correct option. Thus, Yucatán could have been the correct answer, causing Mr. Ewing to live all these years of his life living with a false belief that led him to disqualify himself from the hiring process.

“My God…” the judge muttered. “Mister McKay!” He shouted to the recorder, “make sure you get this down word-for-word!”

“As always, your Honor,” he whispered. A pen collided with his forehead.

“I object, your Honor! The decision may not proceed until the defense has seen a copy of—”

“Silence! I’ve heard enough from you, Principal Lar—ahem—Mister Lee, and the damnable corporate carcass you speak for!” Then, a moment later, turning to Mr. McKay, he shouted, “Too many keystrokes, McKay!” The recorder narrowly dodged the gavel.

“Now, as I was saying!

“Let the record show, Mr. McKay, Mr. Lee and the rest of the defendant’s counsel, Mr. Ewing and your…father’s disinterested attorney, humble observers of the court, that on this day, I condemn the education system of America. Mr. Ewing never stood a chance in any corporate HR department because his school—” the judge gave the exam a vigorous shake above his head—“set him up for failure! How, pray tell, can Mr. Lee’s employer—” (“I’m really more of a contractor”)—“hold Mr. Ewing responsible for a lack of knowledge he clearly never had the chance to gain? Indeed, Mr. Ewing was unfairly treated by the corporation, which held against Mr. Ewing the failings of the public education system, and not any legitimate concern with Mr. Ewing as an employee himself. The employer is responsible for providing prospective employees with the skills and knowledge required to complete the job, and therefore must lavish these skills and knowledge upon prospective employees as part of the hiring process, and may only then consider other factors when making the decision whether to or not to hire.

“By order of the court, the corporation must pay for Mr. Ewing’s training and faithfully execute the onboarding process.”

“Your Honor,” Mr. Lee interrupted, “the expenses involved with that will bankrupt hundreds, thousands of small companies in America! Consider the economic—”

“Order, I say! Order! If after this investment into the person of Mr. Ewing he turns out to be an unfit employee, then fire him! Case dismissed!”

Judge Marshall banged his empty water glass on the bench, stood, collapsed, rose, and left.

The decision upset the legal system across the country. Judge Marshall was brave to make such a drastic decision. The decision was upheld unanimously and permeated across the country at every level. Employers, not schools, were responsible for teaching their employees basic information necessary to perform a job.

So, children failed every exam question possible. They could not be held accountable for knowledge they never learned. Sometimes, they would accidentally get a question right, and their families would mourn. Every correct answer was a liability when it came to securing a career. 

A generation later, not a public nor private school existed in all of America. Instead, children were reared within corporate training facilities, because if employers were wholly responsible for the education of their prospective employees, it was most efficient to train them from the womb forward.

Indeed, as Mr. Lee predicted, thousands of businesses had gone under, but this simply made it easier for employees to decide which of the three or so remaining companies to work for.

Of primary importance, Junior Marshall got to stay on both the track team to set the worst time the school had known to date and the football team to have a knee blown out during a scrimmage match.

Of secondary importance, Mr. Lee and his legal team never worked another day in their lives. They retired to their own private islands, fraternizing with their contemporary Justices who had upheld Marshall’s decision.