A Terrible Beauty: What Teachers Know but Seldom Tell outside the Staff Room (17 page)

He’d had enough of her save-the-world garbage. In the
end it didn’t save anybody. “Oh, no,” he said, “not me.”

Condescension was her specialty. “Oh yes, you.”

“Sorry, babe.” He wasn’t taking it, not this time.
“You take responsibility for the horses’ asses! Anytime you want to
come on up and show me how to teach, you go right ahead.”

She shook a finger at him. “You are responsible for
teaching everyone in your class, Mr. O’Connel, every single
student.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Oh, I get tingly all over
when you do that. Come on, preach at me some more.” O’Connel
slammed his fist down on the desk, making her jump. “You know who I
care about? The kids who get ignored. The ones who sit so quietly
you never learn their names. The kids who do everything we ask of
them. The ones nobody pays any attention to because they’re too
busy hammering on the kids who won’t shut up.

“The regular kids, the ones who fall between gifted
and special ed. The little girl in the back who never says boo,
just sits and watches you with those big baby blues while you make
an ass of yourself every day playing ring around the goddamn rosy
with the jerks. That’s who I’m responsible for. It’s about time
somebody was.” He looked around the circle. “Can’t you see it? That
five percent’s turned us into babysitters. We’ve had to dumb it
down so much that the normal kids never have to push themselves,
and the really bright ones like Armando are bored out of their
gourds. And why? Just to keep these losers in school an extra year
or two before they drop out? Just to collect a few shekels a day?”
Disgusted, he stood. “Standards… of achievement… of behavior.” His
voice fell to a throaty growl. “What happened to them? What
happened to us?”

• • •

Chest heaving, Solange caught him on the second floor
landing. “You really should carry around a soap box.”

“So they tell me.” He stepped over a girl seated on
the steep stairs. “We got a lot solved, didn’t we?”

She caught his arm. “You don’t solve this stuff in
one day.”

He took her aside as three boys tore past and,
cornering her on the landing, moved in close. So close he could
hear her breathing, smell her. “Yeah, you’re right, but what I just
realized a couple years ago is that with this system, we don’t
solve anything—not ever.”

Mouth open, she looked as if she were afraid of him.
“What do you mean?”

He wanted to take her by her shoulders and shake her,
push her hard up against the wall and make her see, make her see it
all. He wanted to do more than that. “It keeps us so busy chasing
our tails we don’t realize how nothing ever really changes.”

The bell jangled, loud in the confines of the
stairwell, and she jumped, unpainted mouth opening.

Backing away, he took a deep breath, waiting for his
heart to slow. “And you know what? It works. It works damned
well.”

• • •

Upstairs at his room, two young women waited.

Seeing them, O’Connel smiled. “But today’s going to
be a good day. I want you to meet somebody.” Maria was a cute
nineteen-year-old with a nice figure. She took Solange’s hand in a
cool, firm grip. Salina was twenty, with wavy black hair, dark
eyes, and a dimpled smile. Solange liked both of them immediately,
but was curious why they were here.

When the tardy bell rang, O’Connel told the eighth
graders he had two Elk River graduates there to speak to them.

Maria got comfortable on the edge of the lab
table.

“Some of you may remember me,” she said introducing
the two of them. “I always wanted to go to college. Even when I was
here, sitting where you are now. But my mother and father are more
traditional.

In our culture, a girl doesn’t go to college—she has
babies.” She smiled, apologetically. “They thought I would change
my mind and want to get married. Well, my brother dropped out of
school by the 10
^th
grade, but me—I wouldn’t give up. My
parents told me I couldn’t do it, that I should quit, but the more
they said, the more stubborn I got. I worked hard, and when they
made fun of my dream, it just made me mad and I worked even
harder.” A painful tightening in her throat, Solange watched from
the back of the room. She’d never told anyone how hard it had been
for her to get where she was.

“I watched my friends in high school get pregnant and
drop out. I saw husbands, boyfriends get drunk and blacken their
eyes. I tried to tell them they could have better, but they
wouldn’t listen.” She sighed, smiled ruefully. “So, I did what I
had to do—I graduated with a 4.0 and won a four-year scholarship to
UCLA. I’m going to study law.” Maria was an attractive girl. No
sour grapes here.

Anna raised her hand with a smile that lit up the
room. “Are there cute guys at college?” Salina’s cheeks dimpled.
“Sure there are, but dating comes after studying.” Salina put a
hand to her breast. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, I’m here
to graduate, not to get married. There’ll be time for that later.
I’m going to be a doctor. That takes a long time, a lot of work. It
won’t be easy.” Solange looked out over those in the room and
wondered which had such strength. Why had these two chosen the path
less traveled? For Solange, a few special teachers had made all the
difference.

A handful out of many, they had seen something in her
she hadn’t seen herself. She knew now that for Maria and Salina,
O’Connel had been one of these, and in that instant saw him
differently.

Her time nearly up, Maria made a last impassioned
appeal.

“You’ve got to want it, want it bad, and if you do—if
you want it bad enough—you can have it. No one on Earth can stop
you then.

I mean it, no one can stand in my way.” Anna spoke up
again. “What should we do now, if we want to go to college?”

“Listen.” Salina said it with passion. “Listen to
what your teachers like Mr. O’Connel are trying to teach you. Do
your homework and study as hard as you can.” The bell sounded, and
when the class had gone, the two said goodbye, taking O’Connel
unawares with a hug that seemed to embarrass him.

“Two very impressive young women.” Solange said when
they had gone. “I don’t think I was that mature at
twenty-five.”

“One thing I know—I wouldn’t want to get between them
and what they want.”

She smiled at him. “I guess we can’t be doing too bad
a job if we can turn out two like that.”

“I wonder how much of what they are is because of us,
and how much in spite of us?” He shook his head. “I can’t take
credit for them.”

She stood, stretching her legs, smiled a skeptical
smile. How could he say that? “You don’t think you had any effect
on them? Not even a little?”

“Ah, if I knew how to do that, I’d write a book.”

She watched his face, newfound affinity welling up in
her. “But, you know, all it takes is to light a spark. I’m not sure
we ever know where we make the greatest effect. It’s like we spend
our days tossing corked bottles into the outgoing tide. The chances
are pretty good we’ll never see any of them again. But just because
we never hear back doesn’t mean no one got them. We couldn’t help
but have some effect, don’t you think? Probably the last place we’d
ever expect.” He smiled, seeing her point. “Now that I think you’re
right about.” The class filled once again, this time for Basic
Math. Today the boys laid their hats on the counter without being
asked, going quietly to their seats, where they played math bingo
until twenty minutes into the class, when they were called down to
the cafeteria for an assembly.

“Another fund raiser,” he said. “You remember what
they were like. We have two a year, now.” They met Aurora, Sid and
Karl at the cafeteria door.

Sid looked outside at the rain, falling now heavier
than ever.

“Anybody think it’ll rain?”

“Here we go again with the fund raisers,” Karl
said.

Aurora clapped hands. “Whoopee!” The stage was filled
with toys, prizes, flashing lights. A man with a guitar sang La
Bamba at the top of his amplified voice. Song over, he launched his
pitch.

“Hey, guys, how would you like to win this Kewpie
doll, or this troll?” Screaming themselves hoarse, three hundred
kids indicated they would like it very much indeed.

“Sell only one box, and he’s yours! But— sell five
boxes, and you’ll win this cassette player!” This was more like
it.

“Sell ten boxes, and you win this giant stuffed
panda!” They went wild with joy.

“And sell twenty, and you get this mountain bike!”
Sid closed the doors, shutting in the noise.

Karl groaned. “Is this stuff getting worse, or is it
just me?”

“This guy’s good,” Sid said. “He’s got them whipped
into a frenzy; and he hasn’t even gotten to the big prizes, yet.”
Aurora shook her head. “What I want to know is, what the hell has
any of this got to do with school?” Sid bent his knee, grabbing his
sneaker in a runner’s stretch.

“Oh, relax, Helvey, just think about those almond
bars. You’re the one who makes these sales a success! Hey, you
know, if you bought a whole box at once, I’ll bet they’d give you a
Kewpie, too.” Aurora gave Sid a shove and he tipped, catching
himself Solange looked to see they were alone in the hall. “If I
were superintendent, we wouldn’t be doing this.” Karl spoke up—
“Well, you’ve got my vote.”

“It’s the wrong thing done for all the right
reasons,” Solange said.

“Now, when he gets done with them,” Aurora said, “we
get to take them back to class and learn them something.”

“Yeah,” O’Connel raised his voice to be heard over
the screaming.

“They should be nice and calm.”

“Who plans these things in the middle of the day?”
Karl said.

Solange laughed. “Someone who’s never been in a
classroom.” O’Connel headed for the stairs. “I’m going up. Send
mine when he’s done calming them down.” Aurora clicked her tongue.
“I’m telling.”

“Who you gonna tell?” Sid pointed. “The boss is right
here.” In his room, O’Connel plugged in the tea kettle.

Drawn by the windows, Solange looked out. Her car was
free, snow gone, melted by warm rain. Wednesday—it would be over
soon.

There was shouting in the hall. O’Connel went to the
door.

“Jesus, they can’t be coming back already, can they?
I thought we’d at least have time for tea.” In the hall, a group of
boys wearing football jerseys surrounded Frank. He wasn’t smiling
now.

Solange started forward but O’Connel held out an arm
to stop her. They hadn’t been seen. He motioned her quiet.

“I don’t want to fight, all right?” Frank said,
trying to walk away.

A much bigger boy with a shaved head pushed him back
against the wall. It was her old friend, Wagner.

“You pushed me, didn’t you, you little faggot?”
Wagner said.

“Yeah, I pushed you. One of these fools tripped me.”
He tried again to walk around the bigger boy. “Sorry about that,
catch you later.” For the second time, he was shoved back against
the wall hard enough to hurt and Solange winced.

“C’mon you little faggot, hit me!” What was he
waiting for? “Are you going to stop this, or am I?” She whispered
close behind him, annoyed that he did nothing.

He shook his head, held up a finger.

“I told you, baldy, I ain’t fighting you,” Frank
said.

The larger boy prodded Frank in the chest with a
thick finger.

Now O’Connel moved between them, sending Wagner and
the others to the office.

Frank came down with them. “Say there, Mr. O’Connel,
I guess it was pretty lucky you came along just then. Another
second and he would have been hurting pretty bad. There’s just one
thing.”

“What’s that?” O’Connel said.

Frank scratched his head. “I couldn’t seem to
remember what to do next.”

• • •

O’Connel shut the door of Parnell’s office after
them.

“I saw what happened with Frank and Wagner.” Parnell
went on writing. “I’ll take care of it.” Embarrassed by their
intrusion, Solange wanted to leave, but stayed where she was. After
all, she reminded herself— she was there to observe.

Parnell looked up. “Oh, hello, Miss Gonsalvas. Was
there something else you needed? Because if not, Dai, I’m kind of
busy here.”

“Too busy to hear what happened?” He set down his
pen. “District policy’s clear. When two students are involved in a
fight, they’re both sent home. There’s no need for a big
investigation. Am I right, Miss Gonsalvas?”

“That’s right, but—”

“Look,” O’Connel said, “I know Frank’s no angel, but
I saw him try to walk away from this one. Why should that get him
suspended?” Parnell leaned back in his chair, fingers woven behind
his head.

“Those are the rules, Dai. If you’re not happy with
them, talk to the board. From what I hear, you’ll get your chance
tomorrow night.”

“So, let me see if I understand. Half your football
team corner Frank in the upper hall during break, try to get him to
fight Wagner, a kid who outweighs him by fifty pounds, Frank tries
to walk away, gets poked, slammed into the wall, doesn’t hit back,
then gets suspended for it. That about it?” The buzzer sounded the
end of the break. Parnell glanced at his watch, rocking back in his
chair. “Don’t you have a class to teach? Or do you do that any
more?”

O’Connel stood looking at him, jaw working. Suddenly
Solange was afraid of him, of what he might do.

He went slack, laughed, shaking his head with
disgust. “Ah, what’s the use?”

He went out and Solange stayed, shutting the door
after him. She was on thin ice here, she would have to be careful.
“This can’t be what the board intended, Dean.”

“Miss Gonsalvas, I don’t have any idea what the board
intended. I do know what they approved.” He patted a binder on his
desk. “And that’s what I go by.”

“But, in this case, I mean, my God, it’s not
fair.”