A Roman Christmas Carol

After the visits from the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present, Dr. Mark Carleton had come to a realization that his hostile tendencies and disregard for expression of individuality amongst the teenagers had done nothing but dug him into a gargantuan pit of guilt and remorse. While with the Ghost of Christmas past, Dr. Carleton reflected on his childhood, and how, even in his own home, he was required to wear nothing but khaki pants, a purple oxford and a frumpy, navy blue blazer. His father saw it as a sign of maturity, while Dr. Carleton thought of it as sheer torture. The prohibition on wearing clothes he liked affected him in such a negative manner, that he promised to forever make children wear the same uniform.

After a flashback on his horrid past, another spectre arrives. The Ghost of Christmas Present, drenched in his own tears from witnessing the despicable wardrobe to which the students are limited, takes Dr. Carleton to Moser dorm to let him see the distraught among the students and flood of tears in the hallway – all of which is caused, merely, by the uniforms which they are forced to wear. Dr. Carleton sheds one tear. He understands the pain through which the students are going. He realizes that such treatment is completely unfair.

After a few minutes, the halls collapse, and Dr. Carleton is a white, padded room. His arms are tightly strapped to his chest, and there are wrinkles on his face; not the wrinkles from age, but those that occur when one is endlessly scowling. Over the years, after hearing endless complaints about the uniforms, he went utterly insane, and was thrown in an insane asylum. This…is where I come in.

“Do you understand what has happened to you?” asks an echoing, feminine voice. “No, no, no. I never intended on this,” replies Dr. Carleton, nearly having an anxiety attack, “I just wanted to release my own pain.” A man comes in and holds Dr. Carleton down, holds up a massive syringe, and gives him some sleeping medicine. When he wakes up, he is in nothing but his old uniform; the uniform is, in no way, altered to fit him, but instead, fitted to his childhood self. Immediately, he is struck with total embarrassment and shame. “I will never, EVER, enforce this kind of torture upon students again. I now remember how I had wished to get just a couple of dress days, but no. That’s not enough for these children. They deserve to express themselves.” And, henceforth, the students would wear the clothes they chose, within reason, of course.

Dr. Carleton finally wakes up, with a cold sweat, panting from terror. It is this dream that will change his decisions, and it is this dream that will change our school.