Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Holden, Ralph, and Jack

“These desks need to be organized into a circle.  Let’s start with you, Pete. Turn your desk towards the center of the room.  Hank, push those others desks aside and move next to Pete.”
 “Ms Tryon, do I have to sit next to him?  I’d rather talk to my homie, Charles,” asked the second string linesman of our high school football team.  I remembered him from the previous semester, one of those young men who passed only the classes he needed to stay eligible during the fall semester.

“As you wish.  I really don’t care who you sit next to as long as all twenty-four of you face me in a circle.” I directed from a point in the center of the room. I watched the boys stuff themselves into classroom desks with their legs sprawling in awkward angles as chair legs scraped across the tile floor. “Just push those extra desks to the side.”

“This is kinda strange, Ms Tryon. We didn’t sit this way in my last English class.”

As Pete responded for me, his long blond pony tail swept across his shoulders. He slalomed into position. “Ms Tryon makes us sit this way.  You’ll get used to it.  No place to hide, she says.  I kinda wonder, though.”

“Never been in a classroom in a circle before, ever.  This is strange,” chimed in Henry.

“I suspect there are going to be several new experiences for you this semester.  Good job, fellas. “

“Remember Harold, Ms. Tryon?  Charles, you remember Harold, that druggie from Mr. Lent’s class?  He used to sleep over in the corner — that one over there, every third period.  How come you let him, Teach?” asked Hank.