Tag Archives: teaching

Symphony 109

“Her daddy hid her away when she turned up pregnant.”

That caught Danvers by surprise. His eyebrows went up, so Neil added, “No, it’s not mine. Anyone who can count on his fingers will know that.”

Danvers left more subdued than he had come. Neil felt good for the first time since Toni Boyd had come in with her news. If they wanted a fight, he would give them one this time.

# # #

During the first two days after Toni received the phone call from her sister-in-law, things proceeded normally at school. Even Lee Boyd seemed unaware of what was going on. Toni had kept the news from him.

It was only the calm before the storm.

Russell Danvers came to see Neil on a Friday. The following Monday before school, Toni Boyd was back. This time she had a committee of concerned parents with her, and they went straight to Bill Campbell. Neil was not there for the meeting, but Campbell came to his room at the first break, ran out the student hangers-on, and told Neil what they had said. They wanted to know why a known child molester (rumors had distorted the facts that far) had been hired; they wanted him fired today and out of the school by noon. They were pretty sure they wanted Bill Campbell fired as well, and maybe the whole school board ought to resign.

Bill had handled them as well as he could, but even his smooth manner was not up to this situation.

“You have to understand their position . . .” Bill began, but Neil would not hear him.

“I’ve understood everyone’s position from the beginning and look what it’s gotten me. Understand my position: I am innocent! Nothing else matters.”

“I don’t think the school board will feel that way.”

“When are they going to meet.”

“As soon as they can all get free. Today or tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

After that, it was not business as usual in the classroom any more. Tanya Michelson, Larry Whitlock, Bob Thorkelson, and Lauren Turner had all been absent that morning, but Neil had not made the connection until after his talk with Bill. All four student’s parents had been in Bill’s office. 

The students had seen the parents come in en masse and wanted to know what was going on. Neil told them nothing, but by noon rumors were flying around the school. Neil found it bitterly amusing that none of them named him. All the crimes of which he had been accused, and all the others that had come by distortion of the rumors, were being credited to Glen Ulrich. Glen was old, grouchy, didn’t really like kids, and his students thought he was unfair. He was, Carmen had told him, the last hold-over from another era before Bill Campbell and a newly elected school board had purged the district of a whole group of poor teachers.

Glen went home in a very bad mood — although really, it was hard to tell. He was normally in a very bad mood.

By the next morning the adult rumor mill had corrected the children’s false assumption, and everybody seemed to know that Neil was the one accused. This morning Casey Kruger, Raul Fuentes, and Rosa Alvarez were also absent. It was Rosa’s absence that cut Neil the deepest. Two students from his afternoon class had stayed home, and six more went home before his class started.

When Elanor Romero raised her hand in class and asked in large-eyed innocence what all the fuss was about, she was probably the only child at Kiernan who had not heard the story. Neil answered, “When I was teaching last year, one of my students accused me of doing something wrong. I hadn’t done what she said, but I had to go before the school board to prove it. Now some people have heard about it, and they don’t believe I was innocent.”

“What did you do?” more tomorrow

472. Teaching Space

I am writing this on February 10, three days after the first launch of Falcon Heavy. I’m impressed by the achievement, and amused by a mannequin in a Tesla floating through space. You would never have seen that during the days of Apollo.

For all the shift from government to private space flight, some things remain the same. All rockets have always been made by private companies, and the primary customer has always been the government. The degree of participation by private industry on the consumption side has changed considerably. Still, if it were not for the government contract to supply the International Space Station, it is unlikely that the original Falcon would have lived long enough to beget Falcon Heavy.

Falcon Heavy is a big deal, but not a total revolution. That doesn’t keep me from doing handsprings at its launch.

I know that teachers all over America are going to be using Falcon Heavy as motivation for their students to work hard and get ready to join the movement into space. Students who are in middle school today will be walking on Mars in thirty years. Any kid who isn’t fired up about that, doesn’t deserve to go.

Exciting tomorrow’s astronauts is the job of science fiction writers and science teachers, as well as those who are doing the actual work of exploration. I’ve been involved in two and a half of those enterprises.

For me it started with science fiction, first Tom Swift, Jr. and Rick Brant, then all the glorious writers of the thirties through the fifties when I finally got access to a real library. By the time I reached my teens about 1960, I was hooked.

That was about the time real astronauts first appeared. (And the time the words astronaut and cosmonaut appeared, so that we had to give up that wonderful word spaceman.) I also became aware of the X-planes, which had been making aerospace history since my birth year. It was an exciting time, culminating in a series of moon landings.

High school kids like me didn’t get to work at NASA, but I did research at the level available to me. Since my two science loves were space and ecology (starting before ecology became part of the public consciousness), I developed an “Ecosystem Operable in Weightlessness” as a junior and continued as a senior with “A Study of the Nutrient Uptake of Chlorella Algae”, both as science fair projects. That is the “and a half” from three paragraphs back. Those got me a summer job as a science intern and got me into college with a scholarship. I started in biology, switched to anthropology, got drafted, survived, went back to grad school then ended up being seduced by writing.

I wrote science fiction. I still do, but for twenty-seven years, a $ad lack of fund$ caused me to also teach middle school science.

Teaching math is teaching math, and teaching history is teaching history. Teaching science, however, is more than passing on skills and information; it is also firing up your students to become future scientists, or at least future citizens who understand and appreciate the role of science in our world. You really need to love your subject to do that, and I did.

It is also an easy subject to generate enthusiasm about. While others are teaching adverbs, food groups, the three branches of government, and quadratic equations, science teachers get to teach about explosions, dead animals rotting at the side of the road, poop, and the exploration of space. I pity my colleagues on a warm day in spring when every eye is out the window. I got to take my students out to throw baseballs into the air and analyze how the baseballs’ trajectories were the same ballistic path as a Redstone rocket with Alan Shepard aboard.

Middle school students are just the right age for this, and I loved teaching them. That probably tells you more about how my mind works that I should admit to.

The exploration of space, if you start about the time of Goddard and carry through Von Braun and his V-2s all the way to the moon, is the story of mankind in the twentieth century. You can’t teach it properly without including World War I and the rise of aircraft, the rise of the Soviet Union, World War II, the Cold War, the promise and danger of nuclear power, and the ugly political motivations behind the glorious achievements of Apollo.

History is a good starting point for firing up young scientists, but it has to be followed by a proper answer to the question, “All right, fine, but what will I get to do.” That part was tough. From the mid-eighties to the turn of the millennium was an era in which manned space exploration was undergoing a drought of imagination, will and accomplishment. Project after project failed to deliver, but those failures were not evident at the outset. Year after year I told my students, “This is your future.” And year after year, those futures faltered and died.

Maybe these non-starters don’t deserve to be remembered, but if you don’t know about the drought, you can’t appreciate the rain that follows. On March 26 and April 5 I’ll explore those projects which began with a flurry of excitement, then died quickly and quietly.

Symphony 108

Neil sighed and said, “I am the person you are asking about, but you don’t have your facts straight. I was not dismissed; I took a leave of absence for one year with the intention of returning. And I did not have sexual relations with my students, forced or otherwise. I was accused, but found innocent.”

“Then you won’t mind if I check for myself?”

“Mind? I certainly do; I mind the whole damned affair. I’ve been hounded for a year over something I didn’t do and I’m sick of it. But go ahead and check. You will anyway.”

“Yes,” she said primly, “I will.”

# # #

That night in bed with Carmen, he said, “I made a mistake in Oregon.”

“Tutoring that girl?”

“No. That was stupid, because I knew her reputation. The real mistake was taking Dr. Watkins advice and leaving for a year. I should have stayed to fight it out.”

“It would have been hard.”

“Yes. But now I have to make my stand here, and I have already compromised my position. No matter what I say, people will believe that I ran because I was guilty.”

Carmen could not dispute the truth. Instead she put her hands where he could not ignore them and made him forget everything for a while. Later, when he was sleeping, she held him in her arms and whispered, “No matter what happens, I am glad you came here. To me.”

# # #

The next afternoon, a stranger was waiting at his classroom door when the children left. Neil ushered him in, observing his expensive suit and silk tie. By the time he handed Neil his card, Neil had a pretty good idea who he was.

“Russell Danvers,” he said, and his card said attorney-at-law. He shook Neil’s hand politely before taking a seat, then added, “Mrs. Boyd works for me.”

“I rather thought she might,” Neil replied dryly.

“She told me all about your situation,” Danvers said.

“All? As a lawyer, you should know the value of accuracy. She told you what she knew, which is not much.”

“It is enough to tell me how to proceed in finding everything.” He put just a slight emphasis on the last word.

“Then I suggest you do so. When you know everything, you will know that I am innocent and there is no work for you to do here.” Neil did not try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.  He was sick of being balanced and understanding. If it came to lawyers again, he was ready to be aggressive this time.

Danvers crossed his legs, carefully pulling at his pant leg to avoid a wrinkle. He said, “I can get a statement from young Ms. Hamilton to introduce to the school board here. They are not a court of law, but it would be enough to get you fired.”

“Do it.”

Danvers looked surprised. Neil outwaited him, until the lawyer finally asked, “Why are you so anxious?”

“Danvers, before you decide to take this on, step back once. Just for the sake of argument, be devil’s advocate to your own position. Consider just how I might feel if I were innocent.  Consider how I would feel about Alice Hamilton and her father.” 

He paused to let the words sink in. “If you bring a statement by her to the board, it will be in writing. I will have a right to a copy. Then I will take her to court for libel. So go ahead, get your statement if she is foolish enough to make one. But she has other things on her mind these days, and you may have a hard time finding her. Her daddy hid her away when she turned up pregnant.” more tomorrow

Symphony 107

Rumors

The next ten days were the happiest of Neil’s life. He and Carmen spent every night together, at her apartment or his, and there was no end to her variety, her passion, or her joy of life. For ten glorious days and nights, it was as it the affair of Alice Hamilton had never happened.

Even school was better. Neil had always noted the difference between his two classes. The morning class was calm and easily managed, attentive and easy to teach. The afternoon class was none of those things. He had attributed it to a different mix of students and the fact that they were tired when they came to him in the afternoon. Yet as soon as Jesse was permanently gone, a change came over his afternoon class. Neil could not believe what a difference the boy’s absence made.

He did not know what other events were taking place at the same time.

Lee Boyd had a cousin in Oregon to whom he wrote occasionally. By sad coincidence, that cousin lived in the same town Neil had come from. The excitement of a Valentine’s Day party ending in a bar-room brawl prompted Lee to send a letter, and for the first time he mentioned his teacher’s name. The cousin laughed at Lee’s story, and read the letter to his older sister. She recognized the name McCrae and mentioned it to her mother. Her mother called Toni Boyd to make sure it wasn’t the same person.

Toni Boyd came to see Neil. She was waiting outside his classroom door when the students ran to catch their busses. Neil had only seen her once before, when she had come in to see why Neil was giving group grades. She had told him then how difficult it was for her to get off work, so Neil knew that something unusual was up.

She gave her son a hug and said, “Go on and ride the bus. I am going to stay here and talk to Mr. McCrae.”

“What’s the matter, Mom? I’m not in any trouble.”

“I know. Just go on.”

Toni was wearing a long navy blue dress of conservative cut and her short, black hair was flawless. She looked like an expensive lawyer’s secretary, which was exactly what she was. Neil ushered her in and they sat. She came right to the point. “Mr. McCrae, where did you work last year?”

“Why do you ask?”

Her eye sharpened and she pursed her mouth. “Please just tell me.”

“Oregon.”

“Where in Oregon?”

Sooner or later this had to happen. He told her.

Her face grew even more severe. “Why did you leave there?”

“Mrs. Boyd, I may not work for a lawyer like you do, but I do recognize cross examination when I hear it. What is on your mind?”

“Why did you leave Oregon?”

“You sound like a person who already knows, or thinks she knows.”

“I do, now. I couldn’t believe it at first, because Lee really likes you and thinks you are a good teacher. I got a phone call today from my sister-in-law warning me about a Neil McCrae who was dismissed from their school for forcing a student to have sexual relations with him. There can’t be two teachers named Neil McCrae from the same town. You can either tell me if it is true, or I will find out for myself. Without even trying, I can think of ten ways to find out, and the lawyer I work for would think of twenty more.”

Neil sighed and said, “I am the person you are asking about, but you don’t have your facts straight.” more Monday

Shut the Door, Martha!

This is unnumbered because it will be short — not so much a post, as a post script. In Serial today, Neil and Carmen finally make love but they do it off stage. I prefer that, most of the time.

Several reviewers of Cyan complained about the amount of sex in the novel. I don’t understand that. It was absolutely necessary to the story, since Cyan was a description of how the exploration of nearby extra-solar planets might actually happen. Given the isolation the explorers would endure, sex was a essential part of the mix.  Even then, most of the sex takes place off stage or nearly off stage.

This subject came up in a panel at Westercon. I was in the audience, not on stage. The question they were considering was, “When your characters have sex, do you shut the door?” Some did; some didn’t. No one asked me, but unless there is an overriding reason otherwise, I usually shut the door.

Even fictional people deserve some privacy.

Symphony 106

He whispered, “No,” as he withdrew. Yet she did not let him withdraw altogether. She caught his hand as he sat up and gripped it like a lifeline.

He rolled over and sat back, feeling his heart booming in his chest. “Too fast?” he asked, and his voice cracked with the urgency of his need.

Carmen shook her head. “I have to talk to you first,” she said.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk right now,” he answered, and bit his lip to control the shaking of his voice.

She took both his hands in hers and said, “I’ve been holding something back from you. You have to hear it now, before we go any further.”

He shook his head in pain. Not again. It wasn’t fair. How much could one man take?

“Neil,” she cried, shaking him. “Please.”

“Tell me,” he said through set teeth.

“Neil, I love you. I’m not going to tell you that I don’t. Just listen, please.”

The world turned over for him in that moment; she had never told him that she loved him before.

Now she released his hands and sat back. She said, “Neil, when you first came here, you must have noticed that I acted badly toward you.”

“You froze me out. You were the only one who did.”

“I was the only one who knew about Alice Hamilton.”

“How did you know?”

“Bill told me. I was the only one he told.”

“Why?”

She moved about uncomfortably on the couch. “Bill is an old and dear friend. He probably trusts me more than anyone else in the school because he has known me longer. And I trust him. You see, he was my teacher in high school; he arranged for me to get a scholarship when I graduated. If it weren’t for Bill Campbell, I would be an ignorant housewife with ten kids and no education. So when he asked a favor of me, I had to say yes.”

“And the favor was . . . ?”

“To watch you. To make sure that you were as innocent as James Watkins said you were.”

Neil sighed and shook his head. “That is one hell of a job to take on.”

“I didn’t want it, but I couldn’t refuse. If you had been an abuser, we had to know it.”

Neil said, “I understand. But do you know what? I’m sick and tired of understanding. I never did anything to deserve all this, and I’m just about ready to pack it in. It isn’t worth it. It just isn’t worth it.”

She reached for his hand again, and said, “Neil, I’m sorry.”

“You did a lousy job, you know. If you were going to spy on me, you shouldn’t have acted like I had the plague.”

“I couldn’t help that. I have never been able to conceal my feelings. With me, what you see is what you get.”

She had taken both his hands and moved in close again. He looked at her, wondering how she had meant that last phrase, when she took away any doubt.

“Neil, if you want me, I am yours. I love you. I began to love you even when I didn’t trust you, and now I love you without reservation. I would never have agreed to spy on you if I had known what you were like. If you can forget that — if you still mean what you said when you said you love me . . .”

Neil stood up. He raised Carmen up and drew her into his arms again. Then, with their arms around each other, they walked to her bedroom. more tomorrow — and check out today’s short post in A Writing Life for a take on Neil and Carmen.

Symphony 105

Bill nodded in satisfaction. “In other words,” he said, “you made the mistake that I refused to make with Hector.”

“No. Well, practically, yes; but morally, no. The essential difference is that Hector was innocent and Jesse was not.”

“You still can’t see it my way?”

“No.”

Surprisingly, Bill laughed. The sound seemed to sweep away the gloom that had gathered around them. He said, “You’re young, and the young have to fight a few battles to know when to fight and when to step aside. There are some students you should go out on a limb for, and some students you can’t save. Ten years from now, Jesse Herrera may come back and thank me for sending a clear message that he can’t get away with murder. Or not. Who knows? We just do the best we can.”

Bill came around the desk and led Neil out with an arm on his shoulder. He said, “You struck out this time. But you can never make a home run unless you swing at the ball. Don’t give up.”

# # #

During the months of winter, the Central Valley of California fills up with fog. It is a time of grey mornings and coldly steaming nights. While mid-western schools are closing because of snow, California schools are delaying their mornings until the fog clears enough for busses to safely run.

Here, at the change of the seasons, daytime belonged to spring and the nights still belonged to winter. Fog came rolling in from the orchards to curl its ghostly hands about Neil’s knees as he walked to his car. He started the engine and slid out onto Kiernan, driving automatically. When he reached Carmen’s apartment, he was a little surprised to see where his unconscious mind had brought him.

She met him at the door with a kiss and asked, “How badly did it go?”

Neil told her the whole story. She sat very close, holding his hand in hers with her hip against his. When he had finished, she said, “I was worried for you.”

Then she was in his arms, her mouth was on his, and for a long striving time they forgot everything but the urgency of the moment. When the first passion had spent itself, they leaned hard against the back of the couch, so tangled together that there was only the space of a hand’s thickness between their faces.

She moved her hand to brush back his hair and her fingers lingered on his cheek. There was a fire in his loins and she could not be unaware of the urgent hardness pressing against her, but she did not move away. Then she kissed him again. He drew her deeper into his arms until he must have hurt her, but her groans were not of pain. They fell back on the couch and he moved above her, settled his weight upon her, settled his mouth on hers again, and slid his hand up to cup her breast. Their tongues touched and wrapped about one another. She locked her arms hard about him, and all outer realities slid away into unimportance.

Finally he raised his head to catch his breath. Carmen’s eyes were shining and she was breathing hard. He leaned above her, memorizing the lines of her face, and feeling a warmth of love as great as his passion. It was a moment to be treasured, and a moment to be repeated. A lifetime would not be time enough to exhaust its joy.

Then a shadow crossed her face. It crept in from the edges of her eyes, crept between them, and shut him out. more tomorrow

Symphony 104

“Evelyn saw him run by, and Glen heard you chewing him out beforehand. I heard from both of them before the hour was over. They weren’t spying. Its just that we help each other here, and we share information so everyone knows all about every student. It is the one advantage a small school has that offsets our lack of funds and personnel.

“When you didn’t come to me, I knew that you were trying to go it alone. I called Mrs. Herrera and asked how Jesse was doing. She told me about your midnight visit, and never knew that I hadn’t known of it.”

“You are one sneaky bastard,” Neil accused, with left-handed admiration.

“Only because you made me be. Why didn’t you come to me? And be straight with me; your career is riding on your answer.”

Once again, Neil caught a glimpse of the iron hand beneath the velvet glove. He was reminded of Dr. Watkins, only Bill Campbell was more straightforward about it.

Neil said, “I knew that you would have expelled him.”

“Yes, I would have. Are you telling me your motives were completely impersonal?”

“No. I was also afraid you would be angry because I sent him home instead of sending him to you. But that was a secondary consideration. My real reason was to keep him from being expelled.”

Bill nodded and sighed. He said, “Yes, I believe that.”

“May I ask why you believe me? I’m not sure I would.”

“I believe you because I seldom see people doing things that are out of character. It is your character, as I see it, to champion your students to the point of foolishness. Like you did when you tutored Alice Hamilton against your better judgement. And like you did here not an hour ago when you argued with me about Hector Van Vliet. It is a noble trait, and someday it is going to destroy you!”

“Hector didn’t even deserve the punishment he got.”

Bill slammed his hand down on the desk top in anger. “Damn it, Neil, do you think I don’t know that? So what? It won’t hurt him, and he will always remember it. The next time he starts to lose his temper, he will think twice. The real point is, what would have happened if I had let him go? These are just kids. They can’t weigh the fine points of justice like you and I do. They would just know that Hector got away with murder, and we would have a rash of misbehavior like you have never seen. If I had let him go unpunished, I would eventually have had to suspend twenty other students that I won’t have to suspend now.”

There was another period of silence, while Bill sat brooding.

Neil said, “If you follow that thinking to its logical conclusion, you have to punish me as well.”

“Don’t push your luck, Son. You are in the same position Jesse Herrera was in. The only thing I can do to you is fire you, and I don’t want to do that.”

“I was aware of the similarity of our positions.”

“Is that why you went out on a limb for him?”

“No.”

Bill Campbell made up his mind. He said, “Neil, if you know what you did wrong, tell me.”

“Of course, I know,” Neil replied bitterly. “It wasn’t because I endangered your authority. I kept you out of the line of fire by not telling you. I was wrong because if I had not championed Jesse Herrera, my classroom would have been more calm, my students would have learned more during these last weeks, and four innocent students would not have been suspended for attacking a devil I kept in their midst.” more tomorrow

Symphony 103

Seventh period was Carmen’s period for preparation. Neil dragged Joaquin and Jesse by the arm to her door and knocked by kicking the door frame. She came quickly, irritated, and instantly took in the gravity of the situation. She took over his class while Neil marched the combatants up to the office.

It was a long afternoon. Hector was called in. He was in tears, now that his anger had faded. All he could say, over and over, was how sorry he was to have hit Neil. He seemed completely unaware of having fought with Jesse; that had faded into insignificance in his mind beside the mortal sin of striking a teacher. Nothing Neil could say to him would ease his guilt.

Humberto and Aaron were called in and put to one side to sweat it out. The busses came and went, and phone calls went out to all the parents whose children were involved so that they would not panic when their children did not get off the bus.

Mrs. Herrera was the first to arrive. She had just walked in the door from work when the phone call came. Mr. Navarro came in next, yelled at Humberto for five minutes, then went out to sit in his truck and await the verdict.

Neil met Mrs. Herrera’s eyes as she came into Bill’s office. They were wet with tears and empty of hope. Bill Campbell was short and to the point. “We gave you and your son more chances than any child deserves, and after that Mr. McCrae took it on himself to give him still more chances. If this is the way Jesse repays us, we have nothing further to say to each other. Take you child and leave. Don’t bother bringing him back next year. You have the legal right of appeal, but I assure you now that appeal will be denied. Just take him and get out.”

Then Bill took a deep breath and relented enough to say, “When you get Jesse enrolled in another school, remember this incident. Get some help at once before he repeats it.”

Mrs. Herrera walked out of Neil’s life dragging Jesse behind her. He never saw either of them again.

# # #

Joaquin, Aaron, and Humberto were suspended for a week. Bill wanted to call a board meeting to consider the fact that Hector had struck a teacher, and it took Neil ten minutes of pleading to get his punishment reduced to a week’s suspension.

When the last student had left in the hands of his angry parents, it was nearly seven o’clock. The late winter sun was down and it was growing dark outside. Bill Campbell looked gray and haggard. Neil realized that he must be close to retirement age. The buoyancy and good humor which made him look younger had deserted him now and he looked old.

He got up and drew two cups of coffee from the unit on a cabinet behind his desk. Neil felt a moment of deja vu; Bill had done exactly the same thing in the middle of his employment interview. Only this time the coffee was stale and bitter. It matched their mood.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Bill said, “You really screwed up this time.”

“I know.”

“Didn’t you learn anything from your sex scandal?”

“I learned a lot; a whole bitter great deal.”

“You apparently didn’t learn when to go to someone for advice. You went into this whole Jesse Herrera matter with your eyes closed and you made a bad situation worse. Then you compounded your error by trying to hide things from me.”

Here it comes.

“The day Jesse Herrera ran home right after he came, did you think that would go unnoticed?”

Neil shrugged. “I guess I did.” more Monday

Symphony 102

“She wears too much make-up though.”

Neil had thought so himself; it was thick enough to make Neil suspect that she had some facial disfiguration she was trying to cover up. Still, this seemed a strange observation for her daughter to make.

“She didn’t used to wear so much, until her latest boyfriend came to live with us.” Lisa’s voice was shocking in its bitterness; then she bolted away, touching her mother on the shoulder as she came up to help her.

Another brick fell into place, and Neil’s edifice of speculation came into tighter focus. The stories Lisa had written suddenly made more sense.

Had Jesse Herrera’s mother worn too much make-up during those last years when her beloved Miguel turned abusive?

Did Judith Cobb’s boyfriend hit Lisa as well as her mother? 

Neil felt his heart as a cold lump in his chest.  It was the cold of helplessness.

The children returned with the last bell. Heather Sanchez reached for a cookie and Judith fended her off with a laugh. She gave the girl a hug in passing, and three other children made mock passes at the refreshments, then drew back laughing.

Jesse’s attempt was real; he caught up two cookies, and dodged Mrs. Cobb as he made his way back to his seat. Neil barked at him and he shot Neil a dirty look. Black helplessness spread through Neil; all he had tried to do was coming to nothing!

Rabindranath snapped, “Jesse, stay out of the cookies.”

“Make me!”

Lorraine Dixon added, “Oh, stop being a jerk, Jesse.”

“Who are you calling a jerk?” Jesse stepped forward, scowling.

“You, Jerk. She’s calling you a jerk, ’cause you are one.” This was Hector Van Vliet, who hadn’t volunteered twenty words all year. A hulking thirteen year old who had been kept back twice, he was also a shy, gentle child whom the other children did not fear even though he towered over them.

In that instant, the slow building anger of the whole class came to a head. They had had enough of Jesse Herrera. Every child’s eye turned on him with brimming hatred.

Before Neil could intervene, Jesse stepped right up to Hector and spat in his face. Hector went pale. He drew back one massive fist and swung at Jesse.

Neil caught his fist in mid-air and spun him around, but Hector was fully inflamed now and continued to struggle; he struck at Neil with his fists, connecting twice. It was all Neil could do to handle him.

Jesse had cowered when Hector swung; now he rose up and punched him in the back while he was struggling with Neil.

Joaquin Velasquez cursed in Spanish and tackled Jesse. As they went down, Humberto and Aaron joined him, kicking and punching at Jesse as he and Joaquin rolled on the floor.

Neil shoved Hector back and shouted, “Stop it!” at the top of his lungs. The room reverberated, but the boys struggling on the floor were too far gone to stop. Neil grabbed Humberto and then Aaron and tossed them back, then dragged Jesse and Joaquin up and held them both at arm’s length.

Slowly the class grew silent. Judith Cobb stood wide eyed with shock. The children’s eyes were steady and flinty hard; the eyes of a lynch mob; and they were all directed at Jesse Herrera.  more tomorrow

===============

I promised an honest novel, and this post may seem excessively melodramatic. I have never had a free-for-all in my classroom, although I’ve broken up plenty of fights on the playground. I also spent several months teaching my class while listening with one ear for problems in the special needs classroom through a connecting door. There was a child in that classroom whom we knew to be violent. He eventually exploded and I had to go in and pull him off his teacher. I was young and male; his teacher was old and female. He was expelled.

Nothing in this post is unrealistic for thirty-plus young mammals jammed into a tiny classroom for months on end.