Chapter Six
The next morning, I plastered a smile on my face and offered my boring introduction story. The students’ reactions didn’t change. When I told Tray about their crazy behaviors, he said that I’m being paranoid. I wish I could just believe his assessment and not worry about it. That is not going to happen.
After class ended, I gathered my notes and stuffed them into the front of my backpack. I didn’t need them for anything in particular since I already knew the material. However, teachers like to make examples out of kids that appear to not be paying attention and taking notes.
I couldn’t afford to have a repeat performance of the “disastrous-Harttown-Primary-School-incident” – as Tray so fondly refers to it now. We had only been attending that school for a couple of weeks when the “incident” occurred.
I was seated in my classroom along with the other thirty students. I’m sure I wasn’t the only child not paying attention during Language Arts that day. However, I was the only kid that had captured the attention of the teacher, and not in a good way. Mr. Baldwin slammed a book down on his desk, hard enough to startle the dead. I jumped up from my seat and nearly smacked my knees in the process. The other kids in the classroom snickered. I returned to my seat, but he was still waiting on my answer. It turned out that he had been calling my name repeatedly, but I had been lost in my own world.
“Ember Pateman, would you like to share with the class what you find so interesting outside of that window?” asked Mr. Baldwin as he leaned against his desk, casually.
He expected an answer, but I didn’t have one to give him. I felt my face flush because I couldn’t think of anything to say. The sad fact was that I didn’t know what was even outside of the window – I had been daydreaming. I had hoped that he would eventually continue with the lesson if I looked sufficiently sorry.
He eventually figured out that I wasn’t prepared to answer him with anything more than a wide-eyed stare and a pitiful expression.
“You’re new here, so I’ll repeat my number one rule. When I ask you a question, I expect a spoken answer and not a gesture or silence. Do you understand?” the teacher asked me.
I nodded and the class laughed.
“I…I mean, yes, Mr. Baldwin. I need to use my words,” I replied once I figured out what the problem was.
“Pay attention!” he exclaimed, annoyed.
I tried as hard as any fourth grader could, but my own universe was fascinating that day. He called me down two more times. The third time I failed to respond was obviously the final straw for Mr. Baldwin and his patience snapped. I didn’t realize that he was even walking in my direction when suddenly my desk was being violently spun around with me still sitting in it.
My first reaction was to reach out and grab the closest thing I could find in order to keep from falling to the floor. That thing turned out to be his arm, along with a very expensive wristwatch. Although I didn’t actually touch the timepiece, I heard it crack. It was almost like my energy had shattered it.
“Let go of me, this instant…” Mr. Baldwin shouted and I complied.
“I only grabbed you because you almost tossed me in the floor. That scared me and it wasn’t very nice of you,” I stated, loudly.
“How could you do that?? That was my great grandfather’s Rolex you just broke, young lady…” he yelled back.
The entire class was watching him in shock. I was waiting for him to say he was sorry for scaring me and shouting. He did those things before I zapped his watch and broke it. So he needs to say “sorry” and then, I’ll say I’m “sorry” too. That’s how the world works and that’s exactly what I thought would occur.
I never did get that apology. But, he did manage to get his temper back in check.
“Now, I have your full attention, right?” he asked.
Mr. Baldwin walked back to the front of the class when suddenly I realized I had a new problem. He had left me facing the opposite side of the room. I didn’t know what to do.
I was busy trying to decide if I should turn around in my seat or just stare at the wall. So, I didn’t answer his question. He resumed teaching, anyway. At that point, I figured his first rule wasn’t very important, after all.
Every student in the classroom curiously stared at me instead of listening to him. Wait a second…why isn’t he yelling at them for not paying attention to his lesson?? That’s totally unfair because that was what I had been doing when he so rudely shouted at me.
I tried to decide what to do about this crazy, unknown situation. I really needed Mr. Baldwin to explain it. He must have a reason and he needs to share…
“Ember Pateman!” the teacher shouted my name across the room, interrupting my thoughts.
His shouts startled me, even though I should have been used to it. The class burst out laughing, again.
“Yes, Mr. Baldwin? What can I do for you, now?” I replied in an irritated voice, just like he asked me to do.
“Obviously, I’m boring you. Stand up and turn your desk around. Let’s see if I can figure out a way to amuse you…” he remarked.
He was flipping through the pages of a big textbook. I was still confused by his unfair behavior. So, I held up my hand to ask a question, but he didn’t call on me. After finding what he was looking for, he demanded that I spell a really long word. I did what he wanted and kept my hand raised, but he gave me a new word to spell without giving me a turn. This continued for another twenty words. No matter how fast I spelled them, he wouldn’t let me ask my question.
With every correct spelling word, he seemed to get even angrier. I waved my hand because I wanted to ask him something. He grabbed another book, made a frustrated noise and ordered me to spell another word.
That’s really unfair. He shouldn’t be angry. The only one that should be mad is me because I haven’t had my turn!
Twenty five spelling words later, he didn’t want to play that game, anymore.
“Ember, I want you to stay in here when the others go out for recess. I need you to do something else for me…” he said.
I was ticked off because I played his spelling bee game for a long time. He wouldn’t let me ask him anything and I was going to miss recess too?? Grown up teachers don’t play with kids, anyway. I decided right then that Mr. Baldwin was being a meanie.
My inattention that day caused me a multitude of problems. It turns out he had originally been using the sixth grade textbook in order to “teach me a valuable lesson” – something I learned later from Tray. After I spelled all the sixth grade words correctly, he had switched to the eighth grade English textbook. When I spelled those words perfectly he thought he might be teaching his first child genius and was excited.
All the other students went to recess. I was fuming, but I stayed seated at my desk. I deserved an answer to my question too.
Maybe, he’ll give me a turn to ask if I just do what he wants without arguing.
He asked me to define all the words that I had spelled out, earlier. So, I did it. But, I couldn’t figure out why he wanted ‘me’ to teach ‘him’. He should already know the definitions since he’s the teacher – duh.
He got bored with the definitions-game and asked me to diagram sentences. At least, I understood why he wanted me to do that. Writing words on different lines does look like artwork and this is Language Arts. Once I finished my artwork, he escorted me down the hallway. I was prepared to ask him my questions now, but I still wouldn’t get the chance.
The principal, vice principal, school counselor and a handful of other teachers filed into a conference room just to watch me draw Language Art sentences. They were very pleased with my art skills because the math teacher also got in on the action.
She wrote an equation on the board and asked me to solve it. I promptly wrote the answer underneath the equation and carefully circled it. I raised my hand to ask her if she likes being a Math Arts teacher, but she ignor
ed it like Mr. Baldwin had done.
This is ridiculous! I have been playing their games, but they refuse to answer even one of my questions.
Ms. Tatum asked me if I could show her how I figured out my answer to her math problem. I complied with her request and “taught” her how to do the equation.
How many more things do I have to teach these teachers, anyway?
I wasn’t sure why I needed to show my math artwork if I already knew the answer. That didn’t make any sense. The circle that I had drawn around the number looked perfect to me. I decided I would just wait and ask Tray to explain this silly situation. At least, he’ll answer my questions and not leave me hanging.
Everyone in that room stared at me with the strangest expression. I finally realized that something was wrong. I dropped the marker on the ground and ran to the closest chair available. I curled up into a tight little ball and covered my eyes, hoping they would go away.
I didn’t know what bad thing was happening, but I didn’t want to make it any worse. After a few minutes, I peeked around the room. They all seemed to be waiting for something. I had no idea what they were waiting for and it’s not like I could ask them.
Once they discovered I was finished playing, most of them exited the room. The school counselor and the principal were the only two people remaining when the secretary walked in.
“Hi, little honey-pie – I need your phone number to call your mommy…” she declared.
I shook my head and didn’t say a word. They weren’t going to get anything else from me.
Tray was as pale as a ghost when he walked in and saw me. He knew I was ready to abandon this place and rush into his arms. But he motioned for me to stay still.
I nodded and stayed hidden behind my knees. The school counselor and the principal followed Tray back out into the hall without saying anything at all to him. I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t ask him a bunch of questions like they did with me.
A few minutes later, he walked back in alone, picked me up and carried me out of Harttown Primary.
Tray has never revealed how he persuaded them to release me that morning without seeing our parents.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons that day. First, it is always better to just accept detention rather than answer questions after a bout of daydreaming in class. Secondly, I learned to never read through any of Tray’s textbooks for enjoyment purposes – no matter how much I wanted to.