Substitute by Nicholson Baker
I saw that Rafe, from my class, didn’t have a clipboard, so I handed him mine.
“All four legs of the chair need to be on the floor,” Mrs. Ricker said to Carson. “OKAY, you are being extremely RUDE and I will not tolerate this behavior. If you are booted, it is a phone call home.”
The PA lady came on. “Sydney Truslow to the office, please.”
“And you will be having to explain to your parents why you were asked to leave. And that will not go over so well for you. You must be respectful. You’re too large of a group for us to continue to have this go on. If you’re booted, it’s a phone call home, and that’s not going to be pretty. I don’t want to have to do it, but I will. We’ve got to get through this. Okay, synonyms and antonyms. Who has background knowledge? What’s a synonym or an antonym? Which would you like to tell us all about?”
Dawn said, “I think they are opposite words to each other.”
“Synonyms or antonyms?”
“I don’t remember which one.”
“Okay, I’m glad we’re doing this. Dawn, choose someone in the room to help you out.”
Amelia put her hand up. “Right here, Dawn, Dawn.”
“Yes, Amelia, help us out.”
“Synonym same, antonym opposite,” said Amelia.
“Yes! Synonym same, antonym opposite. That is indeed true, and we’ve got this cool little presentation for you. Remember I said if you are talking THAT IS BEING RUDE. Okay? You think it’s no big deal because you’re talking, but if twenty of you are talking, it’s a big deal. So ZERO. I think you can handle fifteen minutes of total attention here. Fifteen minutes.”
She put up a slide. “Synonyms are words that mean the same thing. Happy. Joyful. Synonyms. And antonyms are words that mean the opposite. Let’s use that happy example again. Happy. Sad. Antonyms. Opposite. Okay? So I gave you this handy-dandy chart. Nope, you shouldn’t be writing on this yet, other than your name, because I’m going to give you some words, where you’ll be looking at synonyms and antonyms. Synonyms for happy, right? You could say you’re content, pleased.”
Jarrod moved his chair, clicking its metal legs against the chair next to him.
“I am NOT happy right now, I am unhappy with your behavior. So content, pleased, joyful, glad, cheerful. All synonyms for happy. And on the flip side we have those antonyms. Sad, miserable, gloomy, unhappy. Those are our antonyms. So you have this chart thing, and this is how it’s set up. You have the synonyms on this side, and the antonyms on the other side. So each slide that I show you is going to have the words. I’m going to go through them one by one, and you’ll be tempted to rush through but I’m going to ask you not to, okay? Because there are a bunch of you, it’s easier if we do it all together. You should have your pen or pencil ready. Find the side where it has Chart Number One, where it has the synonyms and antonyms for beautiful. Put your name on it, and the date. Name on it and the date. Are we all on the right page? Yes? We all have something to write with? Okay, so let’s go through this. Word number one. They need to be spelled right, they’re right in front of you, people. Attractive.” She put up a slide. “You can either write it in the synonym column or the antonym column. Is it a synonym or an antonym for beautiful? Attractive. When you are ready, tap your nose.”
We tapped our noses.
“Don’t poke your eyes out, just tap your nose. Okay. Ugly. Synonym or antonym? When you’re done, tap your nose. You shouldn’t be sitting so close to someone that you’re seeing their answers. You’re in your own space. Your own bubble. Next is revolting. Synonym or antonym.”
“I don’t know what that word is,” said Shawn.
“If you don’t know what it means, I want you to guess. We did attractive, ugly, revolting. Let’s do gorgeous.” She saw someone struggling. “Synonyms mean the same, and antonyms mean the opposite,” she said. “Let’s move on to lovely. Synonym or antonym? Okay, stunning.”
Dede sneezed.
“Bless you. Hideous. Goldie, get out of her space. Thank you. Hideous. It’s right here if you need to remember the spelling. If you can’t see, come closer. And last but not least, horrible. Okay, put a hand on top of your head if you are all done. All right, so our next word, if you look at number two, is dangerous. So synonyms are the words that are similar to dangerous, and of course your antonyms are the words that are the opposite of dangerous. So let’s have a look at these words. Treacherous! Treacherous. Is it a synonym or an antonym for dangerous? Next up is harmless.”
Gus raised his hand. He had to leave for something.
“Okay, thank you. Ready? Risky. Safe. If you need me to slow down, just give me a wave.”
Dennis waved.
“Are you being facetious? Do you know what that word means?”
“Um, not good?” said Dennis.
“When I say, If you need me to slow down give me a wave, you only give me the wave if you need me to slow down. Okay. Protected. Is that a synonym or an antonym for dangerous? Protected. Now, secure. Synonym or antonym? Secure. Unsafe.”
Lester arrived late and sat near me. “You’ll need a pencil or a pen,” said Mrs. Ricker.
I handed him my pen.
“Okay, and we’re at the last word, hazardous. Hazardous. So if you’re done, hand on your head. If you’re done, hand on your head. We’ve got a few people without hands on their heads, so they’re still looking.”
“Well, I can’t see,” said Dennis.
“Dennis, done? All right, next you’ll see that the word that we’re looking at is smart. If you’re talking, that’s rudeness, we will not tolerate rudeness. All right, so it’s important that scuba divers are smart. Synonyms for smart, antonyms for smart. What means the same, what is something different. So, sharp. Synonym or antonym. Sharp. We’re going to move on here to intelligent. Next up, unwise. Right smack in the middle here is bright. Three more. We’ve got clever. And next up is foolish. And last but not least, brainless.”
PA lady piped up. “Flora Sayle and Rex Hoffman to the office, please.”
Then the phone rang. Mrs. Ricker answered. “All right, all right, yes, okay.” She hung up. “All right, so the students who—LISTEN CAREFULLY PLEASE. When you’re talking, you miss directions. The students who are in Mrs. Lebartus’s STAR, it is now silent reading time. It is silent reading time. If you took a chair from her room, you’re going to bring the chair back. Also, the paper that you did—you need to return it to me. You will give it to me as you go in.”
With hooting and the clashing of chair legs my students made their way back to our classroom.
“Hi, Mr. Baker,” said Lexie.
“How are you doing? Day’s almost over.”
“Can we sit on the floor, Mr. Baker?” asked Marty.
“Please do.”
I shut the door to Mrs. Ricker’s classroom.
Rafe said, “I left my silent reading book in my locker, can I go get it?”
I nodded.
I went over to Theresa and Aurelia and asked them not to look at the book of international photography.
“I looked at it,” said Theresa.
“She’s never going to recover,” I said. “Silent reading.”
Theresa wandered off. I whispered, “Theresa! Theresa! Just sit.”
Then we had seventeen minutes of soft, foam-core silence. Once in a while there was a sound of a turning page. The loudest noise I heard was when I squirted some hand sanitizer on my hands.
Suddenly, bong, the PA lady came on: “Please excuse the interruption for the afternoon announcements.” She read off the names of twenty-five students who had to stop by the library, or report to the office for messages, or prepare for early dismissal. As soon as her voice came on the class began talking.
Then another PA announcement. “Natalie Whitman to the office for dismissal, please. Natalie Whitman to the office for dismis
Ear-blinding noise.
—
STAR CLASS BECAME HOMEROOM. More students arrived, and a few left.
“Elise Smiley to the office for a message,” said a different PA lady.
Jerome, newly arrived, picked up an eraser to erase immigration and push-pull theory and urbanization from the blackboard.
“How did your day go?” I asked.
“Terrible,” said Jerome. “Can I erase your name, or are you going to be here tomorrow?”
“You can erase it. I don’t think I’ll be here. I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”
“No one knows,” Jerome said. He wiped the board clean.
Lexie picked up the book of international photography, which was now sitting on Marty’s desk. “Marty, can I throw away this book?” she said.
“No!” said Marty, from the back of the room.
“It’s a perfectly good book,” I said, “it just has some embarrassing pictures, that’s all.”
“People,” said Theresa.
“People,” I said.
“Can I play the drums?” said Lexie.
“No, please, it’s too loud,” I said. “Does she play the drums in this class?”
“No,” said Lexie. “They’re right there.” She pointed to an orange Frisbee-shaped gong thing on a high shelf.
“I don’t see any drums,” said Jerome.
Lexie reached up.
“She would not want you beating a drum right now,” I said.
“She would not want us to smack one,” said Lexie. She sat down.
“And—it’s been a pleasure having you in class,” I added.
Lexie brightened. “I know! We talked about McDonald’s, and Cuba, and Scooby-Doo.”
Jerome said, “And speaking of Cuban stuff, I would like to show you something, Mr. Baker, that I think you’ll really really like.”
“I am eager to hear it,” I said.
“It’s something from my favorite movie,” said Jerome.
“What is your favorite movie?” asked Trent.
“You will soon know,” said Jerome.
While Jerome tapped at YouTube, Lexie showed me a picture of her two dogs, Munch, the one whose tongue got stuck to the door, and Fleece, a tiny mutt wearing blue booties.
I said I liked the booties.
“She does not like them,” said Lexie. “I also have a hamster. I also have a turtle. I don’t have any pictures of him, though. He’s so fat that his fat is sticking out of his shell.”
“Here we go,” said Jerome. He put his iPad down on my desk to show me his favorite clip from his favorite movie. A green-faced Jim Carrey began singing the Cuban Pete song-and-dance number from The Mask.
“Do you like Cuba?” Aurelia asked me.
“I’ve never been there, but I like it,” I said.
“I like Cuba, and Cubans,” said Aurelia.
“You like ze Cubanos,” I said.
Jerome began doing the Jim Carrey dance.
“How tall are you?” said Aurelia.
I told her.
“I’m five nine,” said Aurelia. “My mom’s almost six feet.”
Ida had brought out a tray of colored markers and began coloring her fingertips.
“Oh, don’t do wacky things with markers right now, it’s too late in the day,” I said. I let out a huge sigh. “So that was Monday. That was Monday.”
“We do fingerpainting,” said Aurelia.
“In art class?”
“No, we’ve already been in art. I didn’t like art.”
Both Ida and Aurelia were coloring their fingertips. Eh, why not?
“How many times have you played GTA?” asked Trent.
“Not many,” I said. “I wasn’t very good at it, honestly.”
“This is what we do, we make fingerprints,” said Ida, holding up her marker-colored fingers.
“And then you go, boop,” said Aurelia. She printed a blue fingerprint on the back of her hand.
I asked them how long a bus ride they had.
“I’m the first stop,” said Theresa.
“I go home with my mom,” said Aurelia. “She works in this school.”
“That’s convenient,” I said.
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” said Aurelia.
“Embarrassing because she knows what you’re up to?”
“She chaperoned my dance the other day!”
“My mom works with an old lady named Betty,” said Lexie. “She’s like ninety-seven years old.”
“My great-grandmother was like ninety-nine,” said Ida. “Then she got pneumonia.”
Bong, first wave. Half the homeroom left.
“Bye,” I said. “Have a good one!”
There was an uproar near the door, so I went over. “He tried to give me an Indian sunburn and I totally freaked!” said Trent.
“He did it to me,” said Jerome “Look at that.”
“That hurts,” I said.
“It’s friction!” said Trent. “Friction hurts!”
“Do you know what Lumosity is?” said Aurelia. “It’s a game we play every day. It stretches your brain. It times how long and you get extra points.”
“Sorry, just a sec,” I said. “Do all the chairs have to be stacked up?” I remembered the sub plans, which said, “Please remind homeroom about putting chairs up.”
“Now can we go to our lockers?” said Marty, after stacking two chairs.
“Are you trustworthy, and do you normally do it?”
“No,” said Lexie.
“Yes,” said Marty.
I let them go.
Aurelia demonstrated Lumosity. Ida and Marisa looked at horse pictures. A hallway commotion arose. “There’s mayhem out here,” I said. “Back inside.” I got everyone in.
“Are you going to be here tomorrow?” asked Ida.
“Not sure,” I said. “I’ll see you if I am.”
Marisa said, “I would like to show you the cutest video,” she said. She showed me a funny cat video. I laughed at it. “And this one,” she said. “Keep watching the dog, keep watching.” The dog was sniffing and running madly in his sleep.
“Jeez, he’s really going,” I said. “I wonder if they have him on tranquilizers.”
“This is even cuter,” she said. She showed a video of a puppy that kept rolling back and forth on his back. “He can’t get up! He can’t get up!”
Near the windows, Theresa and Silas had started a game of inflatable-globe catch using two globes. “Theresa,” I said. “Globes back in the globe area.”
“Globes back in the globe area!” echoed Theresa.
Globes were stowed. “Thank you so much,” I said. More turbulence by the doorway. “That guy Carson is out of control!” I went over. “Carson, how are you doing?”
“Good.”
Mrs. Ricker had walked Carson over from her part of the hall. She smiled and said to me, “I just heard you’re very cool because you played Black Ops and GTA Four.”
“Well, I have a son who was into it,” I said. “Now he doesn’t play video games. I wanted to find out what that world was all about.”
Theresa pointed at me. “He pronounced Aurelia’s name right the first time!”
Mrs. Ricker’s eye picked up evidence of disorder in my classroom. “They should stack the chairs and pick up things off the floor, and then they can just kind of sit tight.”
I bustled back into my classroom to bark commands. “LET’S DO SOME SERIOUS STAIR CHACKING,” I said. “Stair chacking?”
“Chair stacking,” said Jerome.
“My mind reversed its polarity,” I said. “Come on, guys, chair stacking.”
Jerome went off to supervise a group. “Guys, he said stair chacking! Carson,
“Stair chacking!” said Carson, grinning like a madman.
All chairs were stacked in under thirty seconds.
“Thank you, sir,” I said to Carson.
Lexie, Ida, and Aurelia began comparing notes on a former teacher. Lexie said, “Mrs. Bentley screamed at my cousin and now she’s so furious she’s like, ‘I will not go back to that school—’” She mouthed something more.
“Lexie, language!” said Theresa, who wanted to be in the group.
“No swearing,” said Silas.
“You know you cannot say FUB in school,” said a girl. “It’s just not right.” (FUB means “Fat Ugly Bitch.”)
“WAVE TWO, YOU ARE DISMISSED, WAVE TWO, YOU MAY WALK TO YOUR BUS.”
The boys heaved off, roaring and screeching; the girls said sweet goodbyes to each other. Bye, Lexie! Bye, Ida!
“Bye, have fun,” I said. It was just a room of empty desks now.
Mrs. Ricker leaned in my door. “Thank you so much for coming in,” she said.
“My pleasure, thank you for having me.”
The stack of somewhat crumpled migration worksheets looked impressively bulky, each class’s work neatly arranged perpendicular to the next. I left a note for Mrs. Lebartus: her students were good-natured and friendly and funny, I said. I mentioned no names. The secretary waved goodbye when I dropped off my badge. My car was waiting, parked between two yellow lines. I sat in it for a while. Sixth grade. Treacherous, dangerous, harmless, risky, safe. I drove home.