Not surprisingly, when school started on Monday and "the new" Ms Wilms walked in to the building, even though she was being reasonably conservative, tapwise, wearing her baby blue flats with "only" #6 heel taps, all eyes were on her newly colored platinum blonde hair. She got more cat-calls in that first five minutes from eager and frisky male students than she'd had all year. And that might have continued all day long except for other things that went on that day. At any event, Brittney, John, and Barry all realized that they had to keep quiet about their Saturday socializing with "Susan," and they confirmed that with each other by whispered remarks as they encountered one another going into school that morning. So, at least for the moment, the lid was kept on that particular secret.

But no one—not the students, not Ms Wilms, not the other teachers—was prepared for the announcement that came over the public address system during the regular 2nd period messages. Although usually the announcements were read by a student from the student legislature, today it was Vice Principal Hedley Hawkins whose voice entered all the classrooms.

"All of us at Forest Glen are proud of our building and grounds and we are proud of you for the effort you all take in keeping our campus looking well," he intoned, attempting to be upbeat but speaking in that way that kids know is completely phony. Students groaned, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "But a fashion trend has been taken up by many students that is causing maintenance problems for our custodial staff." Quizzical looks abounded, at least among those who were still paying attention. "Many of you have started wearing boots and shoes with metal cleats to school [more groans]. Although your effort to economize on your parents' expenditures for shoe repair is laudable [lots of snickers from the students], it's clear that your cleats are making marks and even scratches in our school's floors. Our custodians are having to work extra hours every day cleaning and scrubbing the floors just to keep them shiny and smooth.

"So beginning next Monday, all students will be prohibited from wearing to school shoes, boots, and other footwear that have metal plates on the soles or heels. The only exception will be the cleats that members of the athletic teams wear, but those will only be allowed in the gymnasium locker rooms and halls, and on the athletic field of course. We have spoken with Sam DiMaggio, the owner of Sam's Shoe Repair on Main Street, and he has agreed to remove the cleats—he calls them taps—from any of your shoes and boots that you wish to continue wearing to school. Thank you all for your cooperation on this matter, and let's continue to work to make Forest Glen the best looking school in the county! Remember—no cleats by next Monday!"

Suddenly, the entire student body woke from their usual stupor. In Brittney's Algebra class, Mr. Wilson could not get the students' attention for the next 15 minutes. Everyone got up out of their seats and they all gathered around Brittney.

"That's so phony! Our taps don't scratch up the floors. They're tile, not wood!"

"Yeah, no way I'm going to take these horseshoes off."

"Hey, didn't Hawkeye (a common nickname for Vice Principal Hawkins) say that it was students who had to take their taps off? I'll bet they won't make Ms Wilms take her taps off!"

"Sam's a traitor! Why would he agree to take all our taps off? He'll be doing this all week long and won't be able to do any of his other business. I'll bet he'll even charge us!"

Some perceptive students noted that Mr. Hawkins was trying to make the students feel guilty by making the custodians out to be victims in this case, and that got some of them really annoyed.

Brittney listened to all these ideas. "Look guys," she said. "Let's be calm about this. First, we need to talk to the custodians. Let's see if they were the ones who were complaining or if it was Hawkeye's idea. Does anyone know any of the custodians personally?"

Megan spoke up. "Yeah, I know George, the guy with the bald head. He's a friend of my dad's."

"Good," replied Brittney. "Will you and Nicole go over and talk with him at lunch? Jessica, will you cut out of 3rd period with me and drive me over to see Sam? I want to see what he says. I can't believe he'd be happy about this either." "Sure," Jessica replied.

"From now on," shouted Robert. "Let's everybody make their shoes stomp up and down and make extra loud sounds with their taps in the halls. We'll have a tap parade every passing period!"

"Great idea! We won't let them do this to us!"

"Yeah!"

"OK! OK!" shouted out Mr. Wilson for the fourth or fifth time. "Let's everyone get down to work!" "We have homework to go over!" And finally, one by one the students turned and went back to their seats, muttering obscenities the whole time.

In almost every classroom, similar discussions were being held, and between classes the whole school was as noisy as it had ever been. Not only were kids scraping and sliding and stomping on the floors with their taps—the boys' horseshoe taps being particularly loud—but leaders among the students, including the senior girls who were actually among the more recent tap wearers, and the junior guys, who were generally the ones with the most outrageously noisy boots and loafers, were constantly being accosted by others about what they were going to do about this affront to their independence and their style. Even 9th graders like Brittney and John were drawn into these conversations, and with everybody acknowledging Brittney's and John's role in starting the tap-wearing fad, people paid attention to what they had to say.

The students decided that they would collect what ideas and information they could from other students during the rest of the morning, and they'd all meet at lunch in the smoking area behind the technology wing and then decide what to do. Several students wanted to accompany Brittney over to Sam's during 3rd period, and there was a group who wanted to talk to the Head Counselor, Mrs. Jackson. She'd always joked around with them about wearing taps (some of them wondering if maybe she even had taps on some of her shoes herself).

Brittney led a two-car caravan that set off for Sam's Shoe Repair. Into his store marched 9th graders Brittney (in her Bass Weejun loafers with size 8 and 5 taps) and Jessica (in rubber-soled black oxfords with #7's and #4's), three junior guys each sporting horseshoe taps and toe and side taps on their brown or black roper, cowboy, or biker boots, and two senior girls both in skimmer flats with #5 metal taps on their heels. They all crowded into the shop and Sam knew exactly why they'd come.

"Hello everyone," he called out. "Before you get all angry at me, let me just say that I'm totally on your side. I think you have the right to put whatever you want on your boots and shoes. But put yourself in my place. I have to deal with the Chamber of Commerce and the mayor and city councilmen who run this town. And your principal, Mr. Martin, and your vice-principal,… what's his name again?" ("Hawkeye," one of the boys yelled out, and the others all laughed.) "Well, whatever," continued Sam. "They've got a lot more clout with the mayor and those others than I do. If they want you to keep the taps off the shoes you wear at school and they want me to help them do that, I can't really say no. Mr. Martin called me and told me the school's floors are being scratched up by the taps and that I'm contributing to your…what did he say?…oh yeah 'delinquency'. I tried to tell him that I put the taps on in such a way that there aren't any sharp points coming from them and that you're not really going to be scratching his tile floors or the cement—not in any deep way, anyway. But he already had his mind made up. It wouldn't have done any good to try to argue with him."

"But Sam," Brittney screamed. "Why would you agree to take the taps off, then? Since they don't scratch the school floors, as you say, and if it's those assholes that want us to not wear them, then let them take our taps off!"

"Brittney, I'm sorry. That's just the way it has to be. I make my living here in town repairing shoes. I've got to at least try to stay on good terms with the principal of the biggest high school around. Still, if you students are united and if you argue your case strongly, you might win." He added, "I sure hope you can, because I don't want to waste my time taking 4,000 pairs of metal taps off of shoes. I'm guessing that's how many I've put on your classmates' shoes over the past few months."

"Really? Four thousand pairs of taps?" asked Francisco, one of the junior boys. "There aren't nearly that many kids in the whole school."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "There are only about 1,000 students at Forest Glen. But if you figure that four out of five of them have taps on their shoes and three-quarters of those kids come in here for getting their taps put on, and on average there are both toe and heel taps—remember some of you have 4 or even more pair on a pair of boots." (Francisco looked down and realized he had 5 pairs of taps on his—double-horseshoes, side, and toe taps.) "And, then, I'd guess each of you have brought in about 5 pair on average to have taps put on. So that works out to, let's see…," as he took out his calculator. "So let's say six hundred kids times, o.k., let's be conservative, two pairs of taps per pair of shoes, times five pairs of shoes each, that's 6,000 taps! Wow, that's even more than I thought! No wonder the distributor is telling me he can't keep up with my orders!"

Sam thought a little more, "Hey, one thing you can tell your principal. Tell him there's no way I can take that many taps off of shoes in a week. Well, I'll call him and tell him that; you don't need to."

"Hey, Sam," said Francisco. "Are you gonna charge us for taking the taps off?"

"No, son," Sam replied. "Actually the principal offered to pay me to do it—a dollar for every pair of shoes or boots—but I told him, no, I couldn't take his money for doing that. Then you, my good customers, would think that I was doing that just to make money. You know—and please don't tell your principal—I love it that you have all that steel on your heels and soles. This is hurting me as much as it's hurting you!"

"OK, then Mr. DiMaggio," said Kathleen, one of the senior girls in the group. "So how can we argue our case with those dummy administrators?"

"You'll have to figure that one out, Kathleen," he replied. "I can't help you there, or Mr. Martin could claim that I put you up to challenging their new rule. Anyway, you kids are bright. Just go back and talk about it with your friends; you'll come up with something that will work. I'm sure you will. I'll give you just a little suggestion, though. Don't try to threaten the school administration—you won't win that way. But if you can come up with a way out for them--so they won't look foolish--you might be able to keep your taps on. I sure hope so!"

So the group left the shop, clicking away in all their various tapped-up footwear, talking about what they might do. Then they got in their cars and sped back to school, in time for 4th period—for Brittney, her English class with Ms Wilms.