A Con
As he left the room, it exploded with cries of "Mr. Gilhooley! Mr. Gilhooley!" cheers for the teacher who had just passed him.
"Subs!" he thought to himself.
He squeaked down the linoleum floor towards his office until he heard one of Mr. Gilhooly's current charges behind him calling his name. Undoubtedly the sub had no idea he was gone. He turned: "Yes, Mr. Fretetto?"
"Um, sir," said Fretetto, looking serious, "is this the homework due today? I found it under my desk. It's not mine" - this last said in response to his teacher's quizzical look.
The student caught up with him and handed him the paper. He looked at the name first: Farmer, a perpetually non-achieving student, a young African-American male with occasional cornrows, a too-ingratiating smile, and a mother disappointed in his effort. He had just complimented Farmer on his improved outlook in class. For a few days now, since the meeting with his mother and sister, he had been serious and on time, though still had had little to say.
The teacher thought for a second, then grinned and shook his head just slightly. He looked at Fretetto, himself an amiable ne'er-do-well, and said, "You guys are pretty clever." He held his gaze long enough to force a smile to the surface of the boy's face. "You can give this back to him."
"I should tell him I failed?" confessed Fretetto, who knew from experience that his pedagogue didn't accept late homework. He received a nod in reply, and went on his way.
"Subs!" he thought to himself.
He squeaked down the linoleum floor towards his office until he heard one of Mr. Gilhooly's current charges behind him calling his name. Undoubtedly the sub had no idea he was gone. He turned: "Yes, Mr. Fretetto?"
"Um, sir," said Fretetto, looking serious, "is this the homework due today? I found it under my desk. It's not mine" - this last said in response to his teacher's quizzical look.
The student caught up with him and handed him the paper. He looked at the name first: Farmer, a perpetually non-achieving student, a young African-American male with occasional cornrows, a too-ingratiating smile, and a mother disappointed in his effort. He had just complimented Farmer on his improved outlook in class. For a few days now, since the meeting with his mother and sister, he had been serious and on time, though still had had little to say.
The teacher thought for a second, then grinned and shook his head just slightly. He looked at Fretetto, himself an amiable ne'er-do-well, and said, "You guys are pretty clever." He held his gaze long enough to force a smile to the surface of the boy's face. "You can give this back to him."
"I should tell him I failed?" confessed Fretetto, who knew from experience that his pedagogue didn't accept late homework. He received a nod in reply, and went on his way.
Labels: story
posted by J. R. R. Hawking | 10:08 AM
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