 Family Theater presents Dorothy Warren-Schold and Paul Picerni. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network and Cooperation with Family Theater presents Slap in the Face starring Dorothy Warren-Schold. And now, here is your host, Paul Picerni. Thank you, Tony Lafranco. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, Slap in the Face starring Dorothy Warren-Schold as Louise. The second floor corridor of the Central High School is deserted. It's four o'clock, almost an hour since the last class ended. Down in the gymnasium, the clang of an occasionally slammed locker can be heard. Suddenly, from the half-open door of a classroom near the end of the hall, angry voices are heard. Then, the door swings open, and a well-built boy of 15 backs out into the corridor holding his hand to his face. You hit me. You come back here and give me that. You hit me, Miss Wiley. Jack, give me that paper. You hit me and I'm gonna report it. Jack, come back here. The boy races along the corridor, reaches the head of the stairs, and starts down, disappearing from sight. For a long moment, Miss Wiley looks at the distant staircase. Tears of anger welling in her eyes. She glances down with a torn sheet of paper in her hand. Impulsively, she crumbles it. Turns back into the empty classroom, and slowly begins to gather up the books and papers on her desk. The boy, Jack Terry, reaches the bottom of the stairs, and her is along the corridor. His hand strays to his face. Then he becomes aware of a torn scrap of paper in his other hand. He stops, looks at the paper, and quickly stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket. Then he walks deliberately up the corridor to a long line of glass-enclosed offices near the front entrance of the building. I'd like to see the principal, Mr. Thompson. Well, I'm afraid he's rather busy at the moment. Is it anything I can help you with? No, I've got to see him. Well, if it could wait till tomorrow morning... No, it's important. I've got to see him right now. What happened to your face? That's what I want to tell him about. I just got slapped by a teacher. I want to report it. They can boil you out all they want, but they're not supposed to hit you. Who was the teacher? Miss Wiley. Louise? You see the nail marks on my face, don't you? I can't believe it. Well, she did. I want to report it to Mr. Thompson, right now. Bill. Hi, honey. You just getting through? Yes, I had to keep one of the boys after school. How's the practice going? Oh, they're going to be okay. I guess there's bound to be one basketball player among them. You know, I've often wanted to ask you why do basketball and football coaches always wear baseball caps? Well, honey, you're shaking like a leaf. What's wrong? Oh, it's nothing. Well, come on now. What is it? Really, it's nothing. Honey, this is Bill. Now, what's the matter? I... Well, I had some trouble with the boy. I kept after school this afternoon. Who? Jack Terry. Oh, that kid's just got a lot of lip. I had him in geometry last semester. Don't let him bother you. Well, I know it's silly. Well, he's just one of those wise acres that comes along every so often. Now, you forget all about him. I will. Sure. Listen, I better get back to work. It's still on for dinner tonight, huh? Of course. Good. I'll pick you up about seven. Kiss. Bill. Well, you quit worrying. We're engaged, aren't we? Yes, but if anyone sees us... All the places are morgged. Now, come on. I guess you must think you're engaged to a nervous wreck. A nicest wreck in town. Honey, you look a little beat. Now, why don't you go home and take a nap? I think I will. And take it easy, sweetie. Seven o'clock. Bye, honey. Louise. Miss Wiley. Yes? Mr. Thompson? I wonder if you'd step into my office for a minute. Of course. A student of yours, a boy named Jack Terry, has just reported that you slapped him. I see. Did you? No. No, I didn't. Well, I didn't believe it for a minute, but the boy seemed very insistent. His face is marked up with nail scratches. I give you my word, Mr. Thompson. I didn't slap him. I'm glad to hear it. But since he's in my office right now, would you mind coming in and settling this once and for all? Of course not. Let's go in the side door here. I've got some people waiting in the outer office. All right. Well, Jack? Yes, Mr. Thompson? Miss Wiley? Jack. Why did you come in here and lie to me? But I wasn't lying. Miss Wiley just told me she didn't slap you. Now, what's this all about? Well, I don't care what she told you, she did. Why do you think I got these scratches on my face? Well, how did you? She hauled off and hit me. Jack, you know that's not true. It is so. Just a minute, just a minute. Mr. Thompson, all I know is that she put these scratches on my face, and that's the truth, and she knows it. Is that the truth, Miss Wiley? I didn't slap him. He knows I didn't slap him. All right, Jack. That'll be all. You can go. I'm going to tell my mother about this. I expect to call her myself sometime this evening. Will she be home? Yes, sir. I'll tell her. Very well. Goodbye, Jack. Bye, sir. Louise. I didn't slap the boy, Mr. Thompson. I give you my word. But you did put those scratches on his face. Yes. Well, it was an accident. It was an accident, that's all. Was he trying to strike you? Were you defending yourself? No. Did the boy try to get fresh? No. No, it... I lost my temper for a moment and... and struck him. No. I didn't mean to touch him. I had no intention of doing anything, but... But why? I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson, it's a personal matter. It is not, not anymore. A thing like this can be a black eye to every teacher in the community. But the boy is lying. About what? If I don't have your side of the story, I don't even know where to begin. I've told you all I can. It was an accident. I didn't mean to strike him. And that's all? That's all you've got to say? Yes, Mr. Thompson. That's all. There she is. Oh, hello honey. Come on in. Hey, I'll come. You're not ready. You oversleep? No. Bill, do you mind if we call it off for tonight? No date? Do you mind? I've been feeling sort of punk all day. I've got a headache. Maybe you'd do your good to get out of this cave for a while. I just don't feel up to it, please. Sure. How about dinner though? Well, I had some soup a little while ago. I don't seem to have any appetite. Hold your head still. It isn't anything, I just... Hold still. You haven't got a fever? No, all I need is a good night's sleep. You go ahead though. I know you want to see that movie. Back till tomorrow night. It's going to be there till Tuesday. Well, I'm going to be working tomorrow night. At what? Well, I gave the regular weekly test today and I don't quite feel up to correcting them tonight. So correct them over the weekend. That's what you usually do it? Yes, I know, but I've fallen behind on some other things, so I thought I'd use the weekend for them and then... Honey, what is this, a stall? Of course not, Bill. Well it is. You just killed tonight, then Friday and now the weekend. Bill... What's going on? Well, I don't know if we ought to be seeing as much of one another as we have been. Louise. You know how Mr. Thompson feels about what he calls romantic attachments between his teachers. Louise, is this the brush? Oh, honey, no. Look, we've been over all of this, we're engaged. Well, I'm just saying, I don't know how smart it is. Honey, I don't begin to get this. We've agreed to keep the engagement secret. And we've done it. Well, not like last Saturday night. When we ran into that crowd of students at Alex's. So we're having dinner together. Yes, but it doesn't look good. You know, it looks kind of sneaky. Oh, Louise, for Pete's sake. Well, it does. Honey, what started all this? Well, I've just been thinking. No. No, you could have been thinking Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, but it didn't start till today. Now, what's the story here? I just don't believe this kind of gossip is any good for you. Well, I'm not worried. Well, maybe you ought to be. About what? Well, you're going to be a teacher and a coach the rest of your life. Maybe I'll quit after we get married. So what are you worried about? Just a minute. You're making a big production about nothing. Hello? Louise? Yes? This is Mr. Thompson. Oh. Oh, yes. I just spoke to Mrs. Terry on the phone. Yes? She's mighty upset. She says Jack came home this afternoon, looking like he'd been clawed by a tiger. That's nonsense. Perhaps. But there wasn't much I could say by way of rebuttal. She's bringing the boy to school tomorrow. She'll be in my office at nine o'clock and she wants to see you. I'll be there. You sure there's nothing you want to tell me in the meantime? No. I want to think about it a little more. I'll see you in the morning. Yes. Goodbye. Goodbye. Well, it looks like I turned up at the wrong time. What? Who was that? The other guy? Oh, Bill. Don't be silly. No, no. I had it right the first time. The brush, huh? What are you talking about? Hello? Yes. Yes. And then that's nonsense. Bill. What's nonsense? He asked if you had company? Oh, honey. It's not what you think. Oh, you'll be there, huh? When? Tonight while I'm at the movie? Oh, Bill. This is so silly. Oh, sure. Cry it up. Tell me about it a little more. About what? Giving me the gate? Oh, Bill, if this weren't so crazy, I'd laugh my head off. I love you. I love you. That was Mr. Thompson. Thompson? What's he calling you about? Oh, Bill, I... I hope you stay jealous like this forever. What's going on, Louise? Oh, it's... It's about that boy I kept after school this afternoon. Oh, Jack Terry? Mm-hmm. I, uh... I scratched his face. Sit down, honey. Come on over here. Sit down. I didn't mean to. But he reported it. And he's bringing his mother to school tomorrow. Maybe you better tell me what happened. Principal's office is just around this next corner, Mom. Push your hair out of your eyes. Sure. Last time when you get home this afternoon, take that jacket to the cleaners. Okay, okay. I'm ashamed to be seen with you. Mom, will you save it? Everybody's looking. I wish you wouldn't have hang around with that bunch of tufts anyhow, the rockets. They're not tufts, they're just guys. I know what they are. Okay, okay. Here it is. Now, just a minute. I'm going to ask you once more. Mom, how many times do I have to tell you? It happened just the way I said. She deliberately slapped you. She's been on my back all the time. I'm asking about the slap. It's the way I told you. She hauled off and hit me. You better be telling the truth, Jack. Well, I am. Why would I lie about it? All right. Let's go in. Good morning. Can I help you? I'm Mrs. John Terry. The principal's expecting us. Oh, yes. Just a moment, please. Yes? Mrs. Terry, to see you. Of course. Won't you come in, please? You too, Jack. I believe we met last spring at the Bazaar, didn't we, Mrs. Terry? It was a Christmas festival. Of course, of course. Do sit down. Thank you. You were in the pastry booth. Arts and crafts. Arts and crafts. Isn't that strange? I can see you in the pastry booth. Mr. Thompson, I understand that Miss Wiley was to be here this morning. She'll be along any moment. I must confess, frankly, Mrs. Terry, I'm as much in the dark about this as you are. From what I can see, there's not much to be in the dark about. She put those scratches on Jack's face. She didn't deny it. She claims it was an accident. It was no accident. You speak when you're spoken to. Okay, okay. I don't see how such a thing could be an accident, Mr. Thompson. Well, I can only say that in the two years since Miss Wiley came here to teach, her record has been spotless. There's always a first time. Excuse me. Yes? Miss Wiley, to see you, Mr. Thompson. Send her right in, please. Yes, sir. Mr. Thompson. Come in, Miss Wiley. Mrs. Terry, this is Miss Louise Wiley. Mrs. Terry, how do you do? Good morning, Jack. Good morning. Now, if everyone will be seated, you can take this chair, Miss Wiley. Thank you. I would like to say at the outset, Mrs. Terry, that I'm as anxious to get to the bottom of this as you. I'm glad to hear that. For that reason, I would ask that we all make every effort to keep our tempers in check. All I'm interested in learning is why this woman scratched my son's face yesterday. I agree. That is the issue. It turns, however, on a somewhat finer point. You claim, Jack, that Miss Wiley slapped you. Is that right? It sure is. And you, Miss Wiley, claim it was an accident. Yes, sir. Have you considered that Jack might honestly feel you intended to hit him? He knows I didn't. That's why he's lying. Mom. Don't you call my son a liar. I'm sorry, but he is. Mrs. Terry, just a minute. She hit me. If we can't discuss this calmly, we'll never learn anything. Now, Jack. Yes, sir. You're the one who has made the accusation. Why don't you tell us your version of what happened? Well... Go ahead, son. Tell him what you told me. Well, she kept me after school to do some homework I hadn't turned in. How much homework? Well, for the last three nights. You remember, Mama, I was kind of sick. You weren't so sick. You couldn't watch television. I was just lying on the couch. Don't argue with me. Tell him what happened. Well, after I finished the homework, I brought it up to her desk, and she started giving me a bad time. Could you be a little more specific, son? Huh? Just what did Miss Wiley say or do? Well, she looked over the work I'd done and told me it was wrong, and I was just lazy and I'd have to do it over again. Oh, yes? Well, I started to say I'd done it the best I could, and I was getting a little tired of her picking on me all the time, and wham! She hits me across the face. Well, that's all there was to it. I ran out of the room. I see. And that's exactly what he told me when he came home last night. Well, Miss Wiley? I wonder if I could ask Jack a question? Sure. How did I slap you? What do you mean? Well, did I make a fist or did I slap you open-handed? It was a slap, open-handed. With the palm of my hand? Yeah. And how many times did I slap you? Once, like I said. Did I slap you hard? You know you did. But only once. Well, once was enough. Miss Wiley. I'm trying to get at something here, Mr. Thompson, and I can't do it until I know exactly what Jack's accusing me of. Well, I'd say that was pretty clear by now. So would I, Mrs. Terry. Could I ask you to do something for me? For you? I don't think you'll mind. Would you stand up, please? Oh, now look here. Please. It's very important. All right. I've been noticing your fingernails. What? Well, they're very nicely kept, and they're a good deal longer than mine. I wonder if you'd lift your right hand and slap me in the face. Slap you in the face? The way you think I slapped your son. Hard. What? Please, I'm trying to prove something. Thank you, Mrs. Terry. Miss Wiley, are you? Now, I want you to look closely, Mrs. Terry. Look closely in my face. Do you see any fingernail scratches? No. No, I don't. So your son's face couldn't have been scratched if I struck him the way he said I did. Oh, now look. Not if I only slapped you once, Jack. Open-handed the way your mother hit me. Well, you can talk all you want. I still got these scratches and you gave them to me. And you think I'm too embarrassed to explain how I gave them to you, don't you? Well, I don't know what you're talking about. Any time you don't. Mr. Thompson, I don't dig this at all. Just a minute, son. Go ahead, Miss Wiley. What happened? Well, it started out, as Jack said. I kept him after school to catch up on some back homework. There were three assignments at all of about ten questions each. Out of the syllabus, he didn't start work until almost 3.20. And even in the hands of a very bright student, the job would take the better part of an hour. So I decided to start grading the weekly tests I'd given yesterday. Oh, I'd been working for perhaps twenty minutes when a point came up that I wanted to check in my teacher's manual. When I reached into my briefcase, I noticed that there was an envelope pressed between the pages of the book. I knew right away it was from Bill. I opened it and read the note. I guess you could call it a love letter. He likes to do that, leave little notes and poems in places I wouldn't suspect. I hope he never stops. I read the note twice, and then suddenly I realized I was standing in front of my desk. I'll finish. You mean you've completed three assignments in 25 minutes? Well, I missed a couple of questions. I couldn't get them. They're in the syllabus. All you have to do is look. I look. Just one of those things. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. You stay right where you are. I'm going to check this work, and what you've omitted, you're going to sit down and finish. Look, Miss Wiley, what are we rushing through life about? What? Well, I can't cut this Shakespeare jazz. Well, you're going to learn how to cut it, Sonny, so stop trying to sound like something out of a brass section. You've got a long way to go. Now, what was so difficult about this third question? The third question. Why did Hamlet, what are you looking at on my desk? This. Keep your hands off of that. I think you're going to stop being so rough on me, Miss Wiley. Give me that letter. With all my love, Bill. And I know who Bill is. You give me that. Give me the rest of that note. You hit me. You come back here. Give me that. You hit me, Miss Wiley. Jack, give me that paper. You hit me, and I'm going to report it. Jack, come back here. Then you claim, Miss Wiley, that you scratched Jack's face and tearing the love letter from his hand. Yes. He pulled it away up toward his face to keep me from grabbing it. I must have scratched him then. This is a lot of baloney. I never saw any love letter. Just a moment, Jack. Do you happen to have this letter, Louise? Yes. Here. Well, it seems perfectly innocuous. It's just a love note. Yes. But the man who wrote it, Bill, the man I'm engaged to, is Mr. William Estrada. Oh. Who's Mr. William Estrada? One of the teachers here, Mrs. Terry. I knew the handwriting was familiar. Mr. Thompson, I know you make a practice of discouraging this sort of thing among your staff. But I find it's a sound policy, Miss Wiley. Well, all right. But Bill and I are in love and engaged, and we're going to get married, and I'm sorry about the policy. Jack, I'm so disgusted with you. Mom, I'm telling you, this is baloney. I don't think so. She's making it up. I never saw any love letter. Louise, what happened to the rest of this, the bottom part that was torn off? Mom, I'm telling you. Jack had it in his hand when he ran out of the room. I never even saw it. Well, it couldn't have been two minutes later when he came into my office. Jack. Now, Mama. I want you to empty your pockets. What is all this jazz? I'll give you jazz like you never heard. Now, empty your pockets. Mom. Start with your jacket. Go ahead, son. It's just a lot of junk. Your father never threw a thing away in his life, and you're just like him. Let's see the junk. Okay. I still got it. Here. Does it match the rest of the note, Mr. Thompson? Yes, exactly. I... I'm sorry, Miss Wiley. I just don't... I'm sorry. All right, Jack. I could cry. I'm so ashamed of you. I just can't get with the Shakespeare stuff. But you can get with the rockets. You can get with hanging around street corners every night with wax in your hair. Okay, okay. It's not okay. Now, I don't know whether Miss Wiley meant to hit you or not, but just in case she didn't. Mom. Now, you get upstairs to your classes, and when you come home tonight, you bring those books. Okay. All of them. I hope you both will excuse this outburst, of course. Not at all. Come on. Where's your first class? Physics. Where? Mr. Robertson, 206. I'll go with you. I'll be in touch with you, Mr. Thompson. Anytime, Mr. Terry. Well, I'm glad everything got ironed out, Louise. So am I, Mr. Thompson. I could be mistaken, but I thought I saw Bill, Mr. Strada, sitting out there in the office when Mrs. Terry left just now. So did I, Mr. Thompson. I just want to say, I hope you'll both be very happy. So do I, Mr. Thompson. This is Paul Picerni again. We, a family theater, wish to express again our gratitude for your letters of appreciation and criticism of our family theater productions. It is we know not always convenient for you to write to us, but we ask that you be conscious of the fact that the satisfaction we feel in receiving your letters is not only reflected in the production of stories that you want to hear, but is so satisfying in that it proves to us that the purpose of this program is being met. A purpose which has but one goal, family prayer. If this goal can be brought about good entertainment, stories that you want to hear, then we are encouraged in our purpose. Family prayer is not solely the province of adults, but it serves as the best example we can provide our children. For children should be taught to pray, and they learn best by seeing and doing. That is why week after week we ask you to pray. Pray together as a family. That is why week after week we sum up our purpose with a statement that the family that prays together stays together. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by John T. Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you'll feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of state screen and radio who give so unselfishly their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Lafrono expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to join us next week when Family Theater will present First Law of the Jungle Jimmy Durante will be your host. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.