Chapter 23 Back to the Classroom
I walked into the staffroom.
“Oh, you’re back, are you?” said Adan Fentiman.
Adan Fentiman, teacher of English Language and Grammar, considered a gentle, quiet type who wants to be friends with all the world, traitor and spy, left in place rather than have to deal with a different agent, whose reports are intercepted and doctored by the new technology and computing teacher, Erica Gaylord. I had met Gaylord via Tarquin, so she knew that I wasn’t working against her, and could be called on to give her a hand at a pinch. Officially we didn’t know each other.
I smiled brightly at Fentiman.
“So good to feel the warm welcome of an old colleague,” I said.
“He’s still sore that the kids turned to you as a confidante rather than him; as if anyone could enjoy the little dunderheads prattling,” said Keith Barrymore, his grin of pleasure a slit in his almost black face. Keith and I were more or less friends. He taught English literature, and we had fun cross-quoting Shakespeare in the staffroom.
“You have my sister and my goddaughter now, Keith,” I said. “My goddaughter missed out a lot on education, but she’s keen to learn. I ask you to be gentle with her. My sister will give as good as she gets, but circumstances made her fall behind so she’ll be in my class.”
“And what circumstance is that?” demanded Jean Lawrence, Maths, twenty-seven going on fifty.
I looked her in the eye.
“I am sure the headmaster has told everyone that she has suffered considerable trauma, and asked you to be aware of that,” I said. “I don’t think I feel like bandying about my kid sister’s business any more than that. Unless you want me to tell the staffroom why you broke off your engagement and joined the staff here?” I asked pointedly.
Lawrence paled.
“How do you know that?” she demanded.
Sheer coincidence as it happens; when I was closing down the fraudsters known as The Lonely Hearts Club, I happened upon one mark named Jean Lawrence, and went digging. She had been betrothed to a nice, but rather boring young man whom she threw over for a dangerous bad boy, despite him being older than her.
Why do women always seem to prefer bad boys? I suppose it’s genetic programming to try to get the genes of men who make themselves successful at any expense; without thinking that once they’ve spread their seed, they aren’t staying around to bring home the mammoth meat. Her bad boy took her for the money from the sale of her parents’ house and their savings, so she had to work, and the nice but boring young man had a nice but boring wife and the standard 2.5 children.
Life’s about choices.
In answer to her question, I shrugged.
“I pick things up, and I get about,” I said. “Point is, you don’t want it broadcast, and I don’t want it broadcast what happened to my kid sister. People like Fentiman might use it to reassure some other kid that things can be worse, because he likes to think himself well-meaning, and constantly paves the way to hell with his bumbling self-righteous arsery.”
She subsided, simmering.
I had never been on her Christmas card list to begin with, for having taken against me when I delivered the slow stream back to her at further on than her regular class.
“Now, look here!” said Fentiman. “I do my best to help the kids; they might be technically privileged but some of them have pretty awful home lives....”
“That you blab about freely,” I said. “Anyone would take you for a gossip columnist.”
I loathed him; he loathed me. We might as well get this into the open.
He turned his back pointedly.
“Ah, a better view,” I said.
I swear he flounced.
The others nodded to me; I had done nothing to irritate any of them sufficiently to feel any despite towards me. Nico Contini did not like me much, because I made the odd dig about there being sciences other than physics, but he did not truly dislike me. I don’t think. He nodded with more or less affability, anyway.
I went to meet my class.
“Paul Moorcroft,” I said, “I know you and your friend Hank Wenlow. And I know you were doing just fine last year with a few pointers.”
Paul beamed at me. He had a look of his sister, though his hair was paler than the honey gold of both his sisters. His eyebrows were so pale over his blue eyes that he looked permanently surprised and totally guileless.
“We heard you were coming back, sir, so we didn’t think we had to pretend to understand in class anymore. It’s remarkable how terribly dim we became, especially over Math. Just couldn’t get it at all.”
“Mr. Wenlow?” I said.
He was a solemn child with brown hair and eyes.
“It got suddenly much too hard for me,” he said. “Funny that.”
I sighed.
“You can help out if the others flag,” I told them. “Do not dare get marks below an ‘A’ grade for me, however, or I’m be improving your mens sana with a good bit of in corpore sana performing calculations for me whilst running round and round the field.”
“I’m sure we can manage to be more receptive for a good teacher,” Hank assured me.
Little monkeys.
“So, Paul, or Mr. Moorcroft, I should call you in school, perhaps you will introduce me to the others; and I will introduce Ruth Tiber, who is joining you for the rest of the year.
Ruth nodded.
There were three others, a boy and two girls, a class of six in all.
“Well, this is Sausage Clinton,” said Paul.
“James, or Jim, Clinton,” interrupted the boy with sandy hair, looking down his nose, flushing.
“We all garner strange nicknames at school, Mr. Clinton,” I said. “Mr. Moorcroft was out of line.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Paul. “The girls are Marie Kershaw and Hermione Obama.”
I looked askance at the bruise on Kershaw’s cheek. She was a plain child with brown hair, muddy hazel eyes, and freckles.
“Who hit you?” I asked, flatly.
“Nobody, sir; I fell,” she said.
“It’s true,” said Obama. “Marie is just clumsy.”
“If anyone helps you to be clumsy, Miss Kershaw, tell me, and I’ll be sorting them out,” I said.
She shook her head.
“I fall over my own feet and break things, and I’m all round useless at lessons too, as well as being ugly,” she said.
I wasn’t liking the sound of this.
“Who on earth says you’re useless – or ugly?” I said.
“Everyone,” said Marie. “My parents, most of the other teachers....”
“She’s an awfully good artist, and I think she should have special training,” said Obama. “It’s why I dropped out and deliberately flunked my grade to be able to help her along.”
From the look Kershaw gave her she did not want to be helped along.
“Helping people along is my job, Miss Obama,” I said.
“But you said to Paul....”
“I meant with homework,” I said. “He won’t be expecting to be helping in the classroom, he’ll have too much of his own work to be doing. As will you. I came back to help those who have genuine troubles, not a bunch of little slackers who have decided to be dropouts because they heard about the cake last year, and I’ll be making a different approach this year, as I understand you all managed fractions well enough. We’re starting with trigonometry and some spherical trigonometry which is important for navigation; and I’m going to start by showing you a trid of Jay Silverheels and his explanation of how to navigate by the stars.”
The Clinton boy sat upright.
“Jay Silverheels is brilliant!” he said. “I bet you wish you were in his league, sir.”
Yes, I resented the air of condescension, and his assumption that a teacher was not likely to be in the same league.
I smiled, faintly.
“As it happens, and the reason I have this film, is that I am a friend of Jay’s, and I’ve trained with him,” I said. “You didn’t join the fitness club last year to run early in the morning. Mr. Moorcroft! I hope you have been keeping it up!”
“I... well, not exactly, sir,” said Paul.
“Well, you’ll just have to get fit in a hurry, won’t you?” I said. “And no skimping the days I’m not here.”
“Yessir,” said Paul.
“You can’t make Marie take part, she’ll hurt herself,” said Obama.
“Miss Obama, I don’t ‘make’ anyone take part,” I said. “But if Miss Kershaw cares to come along, I can help her to overcome her clumsiness, even as I will teach her to overcome her poor self image, instead of doing her no favours by telling everyone that she is clumsy and that she can’t do this or that, instead of boosting her confidence by helping her to do more, and not writing her off.”
“I’m only trying to help her, by insulating her from....”
I interrupted.
“Miss Obama! I don’t, in general believe in interrupting students, but you are about to dig yourself a hole and jump in it. You are not helping Miss Kershaw by being her nanny. You are merely reinforcing her own poor self worth. Miss Kershaw can speak for herself, decide for herself, and will learn that she can overcome any difficulties. Leave her alone; your so-called help is on the verge of bullying.”
It’s harder to see a flush on dark skin, but flush she did; I could see it in the infra red range. Her mouth also fell open at me.
“I would like to learn,” said Marie.
“Good. But let us get on with the lesson,” I said. “I don’t require you to make notes of the film; I’ve got printouts. I’m hoping we will have time to make a simple sextants.”
Obama had raised her hand.
“Why should we need archaic tools, Mr. Tiber? Laser measuring devices are more efficient.”
“Well, now, Miss Obama, ever heard of Juliane Koepcke?” I asked. She shook her head. I went on, “She was, at twelve years old, the sole survivor of a plane crash in the middle of the jungle. She was fortunate to survive, because she had the right attitude. But she could have had better tools for survival. And if you were the sole survivor of a plane crash, I doubt you would be carrying laser measuring devices, but you would, I hope, have your brain with you, and the ability to improvise.”
She subsided.
I was going to have trouble with Miss Interference.
It must be in a name.
I read a book a long time ago which had a girl called Hermione in it; also a Miss Interference. Well-meaning and very bad at it.
Ruth knew that I was Jay Silverheels, but at least she was off men at the moment, and was not ogling my nearly naked body.
The only one who was, was Mr. Clinton, but I thought, since my expensive nose did not sense any arousal, male or female, [thank goodness] that it was the appreciation of hero-worship.
I gave them the sheet of instructions for making the sextant. I don’t know if any of you did it at school, but it makes a lot more sense of trigonometry to go out and survey a piece of land, determining the height of trees and so on. I’d prepared some measuring rods to use for determining distance, and we would use compasses as well for ready reckoning from two points. Tramping off to make maps with sandwiches is a fun day out as well as instructive. I caught Miss Obama about to take Miss Kershaw’s sextant away from her and do it for her.
“Miss Obama, take your work and your books and go sit on the other side of the classroom,” I said. “You are forbidden to sit next to Miss Kershaw, and if you don’t obey, you’re excluded my class.”
“But she needs help....”
“She needs your help like an aeroplane needs a hijacker,” I snapped. “You are a bully, Miss Obama, and not an exemplar of your illustrious name. Miss Kershaw is perfectly capable on her own, even if not as fast as you. And if I was you, I’d check you have not made mistakes for being slapdash and hurrying. Miss Kershaw knows to treat it as a drawing exercise; if she can handle double perspective she’s more than capable of making a sextant.”
Miss Kershaw’s face lit up with sudden enlightenment, and she applied herself assiduously.
Miss Obama was almost in tears, but it had to be said; she was making herself obnoxious and Miss Kershaw did not appreciate it.
I went over to Miss Obama, who had been having to make some corrections.
“Miss Obama,” I said, “You don’t appreciate me ordering you about and humiliating you in front of the others, do you?”
“No, sir,” she said, woodenly.
“Do you really think that Miss Kershaw appreciates you ordering her around, and humiliating her?” I asked.
“But I’m only trying to help her!” said Miss Obama.
“You’re lucky that I actually believe you, Miss Obama,” I said, harshly. “I’ve seen girls ‘just helping’ in such a way as to make other girls look bad, and they were doing it deliberately. And you know what? I wondered if you were doing so, at first, and if it was you who had bruised her. Because I saw a little bully.”
“I want to do what’s right! And she needs help!” persisted Miss Obama.
“You’re giving her the same sort of help of someone who kicks a cripple’s crutch out from under them and drags them by the hair,” I said. “The kid needs help, she doesn’t need everything done for her because she’s slower than you think she ought to be; and she doesn’t need you humiliating her by talking about her difficulties. How would you like it if she said loudly ‘hey, be careful of Hermione today, she’s on her period?’ I don’t think you’d like that.”
“Sir!” she was indignant.
“I’m married, you know; I do know about the manifestations of normal womanhood,” I said, dryly. “But you aren’t helping her. If you want to help her, wait to be asked.”
“She won’t ask for help, she’s stubborn,” muttered Obama.
“Good,” I said. “Stubborn will help her to help herself. You are making her feel more of a failure by refusing to let her try. Am I getting through to you, child?”
“I... well, if I’m not helping Marie, I don’t need to be here,” she said, uncertainly.
“I am sure you can fit back into normal lessons if you are happy there,” I said. “I don’t appreciate my aid for those truly in need being diverted by little liars.”
“You should throw Paul and Hank out too,” said Obama, sententiously.
“You should not tell a teacher what to do, you little madam,” I said. “Did you hear what Paul said? That they could stop pretending to understand. I suspect he can manage with Miss Lawrence but I suspect he is struggling to keep up. He was, last year, when his sister was in my accelerator group. I’m here if there are any classes you are having trouble with, but frankly, I think you are wasting my time, and I am wasting yours when you are capable of keeping up. I will make sure Miss Kershaw achieves her full potential.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Shall I rejoin normal classes after break?”
“I think you, I, and Miss Kershaw will all be happier, don’t you?” I said.
“Yes, sir,” she said.