In front of the class, Happy would bend his arms at the elbow and hold his hands up about the level of his neck with his fingers perpendicular to his palms. He would hold this pose for lengthy periods as he lectured. If his fingers were not bent, you would have thought he was demonstrating the size of a Muskie he had caught. Happy’s class was fairly normal and his lectures were routine. He had a good speaking voice and he managed to keep most kids awake. But he had two odd habits. His first odd habit was the manner in which he gave us a surprise quiz every other day. Right in front of us, Happy would transform from a flesh and blood teacher to an automaton who give us the following instructions without moving an inch:
OK, students now take a sheet of clean 8½” x 11” notebook paper out of your notebooks [pause]. Fold the top of the sheet down to the bottom in half [pause]. Take your ruler and run it across the fold to make it very neat and clean. Now take that half sheet and fold it over like a book [pause]. That’s it, make your corners crisp and neat – yes that’s it Mr. Dollar. Now once you have your corners folded neatly, rip the page at the folds so you create four small sheets of paper equal in size [pause]. Yes, Mr. Jenkins, that’s right. Now take one of the sheets and on the very top right corner, write you name, your full first name and last name. That’s right [pause]. But make sure it’s on the upper right corner Mr. Kobis, not the left corner. Directly under your name, write “English Grammar.” Now under “English Grammar,” write today’s date [pause]. Everyone knows today’s date? Well that’s good boys. Now over on the left edge of the page write numbers “1” through “10” down the page vertically. That’s vertically, Mr. Gilmartin, not horizontally.
At least twice a week, Happy would give us a quiz and he always worded his questions so each answer could easily fit on the small lines found on quarter pieces of paper that we prepared. He would go through the instructions each time as if he had never given them before. He expected everyone to get it right. Happy would stand there at the front of the room, the cadence of his words ever steady, the expression in his voice emotionless for this ritual.
His second odd habit would show up at different times during the class when you might not expect it. One second Happy would be in front of the room perched in his pose, holding his hands up high, and suddenly he would walk over to one of the students and peer down over him.
“Mr. Klemp, I see you are very tired today. I see your eyes are opening and closing. I see it is hard for you to stay awake. Mr. Klemp, you need some medicine. Class, Mr. Klemp needs some medicine. I’d say about 50 cc.”
Then Happy would put his left hand on Klemp’s left check and very quickly with exacting precision swing his right hand at Klemp’s right cheek. “Slap!” We never knew the total force of Happy’s slap because his left handle cradled the “slapee’s” cheek so his head would not fall off. But, by the sound of it, it was very wicked and generally, the “slappee” would have a case of watering eyes for the next five minutes or so. The red cheek would last perhaps a period or two.
Happy would tell you how hard he was going to hit you by the volume of “medicine” he was administering, although some of us secretly thought he was administering the same dose each time. Regardless of whether you were getting 50 or 200 cc, you got the message. This very quiet, nerdy teacher kept a very orderly classroom. You were never quite sure whether he was putting everyone on with this persona, or whether it was genuine. Copyright 2016, Lawrence M. Norris
This story is taken from The Brown and White.
