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I was a senior in high school.
It was the first day of the new
school year.
I was drifting through life while
infected with a classic case of senioritis.
I had a study hall my first hour in
a large room that was used just for study halls.
I thought having my study hall the
first hour of each day was a stroke of good luck. It would
provide me with an opportunity to catch up on some of the
sleep I had lost earlier in the day to milking cows.
I was surprised to discover that the
room was overbooked by at least one. Everyone but one had a
desk. Everyone was seated except me.
I stood at the front of the room as
the bell rang to start the school day.
I looked at our first year teacher,
replete in a nice suit and tie, reading a newspaper at his
desk located in the rear of the room.
I had not met the teacher before,
but was about to ask him where I should sit.
But before I could do that, a
friend, wearing a grin as big as his face, reached into his
pocket and showed me the shiny ball bearing he had retrieved
from it.
Before I could say a word, my friend
threw the metal orb towards our teacher at the back of the
room.
Fortunately the teacher was
protected by a newspaper shield.
The ball bearing hit the newspaper
with a loud, ???THWAAAAK!???
The room became extremely quiet.
The ball bearing dropped to the
desktop, rolled to the edge of the desk and fell to the
floor.
It bounced a number of times before
it finally came to a rolling stop.
Our new teacher folded his newspaper
methodically and placed it on his desk.
He looked at the students in the
study hall.
Every one of them was seated at his
or her desk with eyes pointed straight ahead.
That is, all except one.
My teacher squinted as he looked
through horn-rimmed glasses to the front of the room where I
stood facing him.
I looked back with a crooked grin
and the comfort of innocence.
???You! What??™s your name???? said my
teacher.
???Batt.???
???Well, Batt, you march right back
here and let??™s have a talk.???
I did as I was told.
He sent me to the principal??™s
office.
I was assumed guilty because I was
unwilling to finger the true culprit.
The first day of classes brought a
carnival-like atmosphere to the principal??™s office.
Teachers were complaining about
their schedules. Students were complaining about their
schedules. Parents were complaining about the teachers and
the students.
The school secretary feigned
surprise to see me in the principal??™s office so early in
both the school year and the school day.
We shared a laugh. I??™d been to the
principal??™s office before.
The principal saw me and asked what
I was doing sitting on the miscreant bench.
I told him that the teacher had sent
me from the big study hall.
The principal nodded and said that
he had heard that the room didn??™t have enough desks to go
around.
???Go to the library. Tell the
librarian that you will be spending your study hall in the
library. I??™ll adjust your records so the FBI will know
where to find you when they come looking.???
I liked my principal??™s sense of
humor. I expected he needed it in his job.
I didn??™t other him with any of the
details about the ball bearing throwing incident. I figured
he had enough things on his mind.
I went to the library.
I spent every first hour of every
school day in that library.
I loved the library and the
librarian.
I helped her carry boxes of books
and move tables.
She gave me first shot at new books
and the daily newspapers.
I never caught up on my sleep. I
was too busy reading.
It was heaven to a boy who cherished
the written word.
The teacher who kicked me out of the
study hall would come in each morning to get the newspaper.
He got it, but not until I had
finished reading it.
He once asked me what I was doing in
the library.
I told him that the principal had
sent me there and that I was helping the librarian.
???Good,??? said my teacher. ???It serves
you right.???
I don??™t know if time in the library
served me right or not, but I do know that it served me
well.
?©Al Batt 2004
71622 325 St.
Hartland, MN 56053
SnoEowl@aol.com |
