Gift of Revelation by Robert Fleming Read Free Book Online

accept fewer special education students and foreign students who have to learn English as a second language.”
    â€œIf you feel this way, then maybe it was best that you didn’t try to get hired as a public school teacher,” I replied. “Also, I guess it’s a big adjustment, going from a small rural school to a big city public school. The requirements are totally different.”
    I could hear her swallow in frustration. “No, I disagree. The goal of teaching is to prepare the kids for life, to give them the proper skills to hit the ground running. Delores says these kids in the public schools are so sure of themselves, so confident, but when they are compared to kids around the world, especially Asians, they come up short academically. They lag behind. They don’t know everything you need to know to compete in this high-tech world.”
    Pulling the chair over to where I stood by the window, I straddled it. “So what are you going to do after our Sudan adventure? Have you thought about that?”
    â€œI don’t know, Clint,” she said softly.
    â€œWell, that’s fair enough,” I answered. “Who knows what will happen here. I hope we don’t have a repeat of our Dixie journey. My goal is to get through this in one piece.”
    I heard her crumpling up newspaper or something, and then she spoke quietly. “We will. Well, I’m worn out. Serious jet lag. I’m going to get some sleep. What are you going to do?”
    I wished I had a cigarette. “I’m supposed to meet a man about our trip to the refugee camps. He’s going to give me the lowdown on this place, the dos and don’ts, so we don’t take a wrong step.”
    â€œOkay, Well, I’m too tired to talk anymore. I’ll see you later, Clint,” Addie said.
    As soon as we hung up, the telephone rang again. It was the front desk, asking me if they could put through a call from the editor Addie and I had met at the airport. The man was impatient and wanted to make sure that we would have our meeting. I wondered what was so important. The government had its people planted everywhere.
    The call, when we finally got through, wasn’t taken by the editor himself, but by one of his aides, who alerted me that a car would come for me in half an hour. The editor was assuming I would be ready. To tell the truth, I was totally bushed, so tired that I’d probably fall asleep in the meeting. I could barely keep my eyes open.
    However, I managed to shower and shave. After drinking two cups of black coffee, I was ready for action, almost alert. I dressed in my white suit and a light yellow shirt, then donned my sandals. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this, but my feet were aching from the long flight, so regular shoes were out of the question.
    When I went down to the street ten minutes later, accompanied by one of the editor’s staff, who, I noticed, wore a gun, I saw three plainclothes guys, possibly from the government’s security forces. They made no effort to conceal the fact that they were watching me closely. In fact, once the staffer and I got in the car, they followed us directly to the newspaper offices and parked at the curb, near the front of the English-designed building.
    I walked behind the staffer through the halls, trying to match his quick strides. He opened the reinforced door and stood inside to let me pass. The editor, dressed in a gray business suit, met me at the door and shook my hand vigorously. Then he led me into his office. Two of his aides followed us into the room. Introductions were made. He smoked cigarettes, English cigarettes, and tried to avoid blowing the fumes in my face.
    â€œHow do you like it so far?” he asked, the tobacco stains on his teeth showing as he spoke.
    I laughed, then replied, “I’ll tell you in a couple of weeks.”
    Observing the niceties, he invited me to take a seat in a chair in front of his desk and