The fact that Boden had virtually disregarded his warnings cut deep into Luther's sensibilities. He was neither used to nor resigned to outright rejection of his opinions. He resolved to keep a very close eye on Ben Troop and expected he could eventually rub Boden's nose in his rejection of a sincere and reasoned warning.
When Luther left, Boden relaxed, letting his glance fall unseeing across the tree shaded street beyond his window. He thought perhaps education was becoming too soft in its approach to life. He wondered if men like John Luther introduced timidity into their students. The American people seemed unwilling to defend themselves against even those who attacked them. He wondered how much fear of physical violence and repugnance toward physical retaliation was instilled in youth by the teachers they encountered. It seemed as though everyone was running scared these days.
He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. Could it be that America was culturing itself right out of competition in the world? God knows there were merciless lions waiting out there beyond the classrooms. Do we throw soft and timid young adults into the lions' dens when all they know how to do is turn the other cheek or yell "Police?"
He realized his thoughts were shallow and disorganized, but Luther's alarm gave him cause. Perhaps no one was personally responsible for shutting the loose mouth, or stopping the thief, or defending the property. Maybe it was now all up to big brother, the police, or "Them," "Them!" They were the ones to do it! He wondered just who in hell everybody thought "Them" was. He gagged on his own structure and shook himself back to the tasks at hand.
John Luther would grumble and lurk in the wings waiting to rush in screeching "I told you so." Boden surely hoped Ben Troop didn't give him the chance.
The Roberts incident happened two years before Tom Ruby attacked Ben Troop, but nobody had forgotten it.
++++
Ben Troop's classroom, 1968
Boden dropped into Troop's ninth grade history class on impulse. He often felt drawn to visit because there always seemed to be something unexpected going on. Usually he passed by, recognizing that he could visit too often. Today he again had no special reason, but entered anyway.
The periods were just changing and the ninth grade swarmed into the room, chose desks and began mumbling among themselves. A young lady quickly placed her papers and rushed to show Boden her partially completed scrapbook on Grecian fashions. He was examining the project with interest when Troop finished talking with a student and turned to the class. The girl snatched her notebook and scurried to her desk.
"Good morning, people."
"Good morning, Mr. Troop."
"Anyone missing? If you are, say so."
A hollow groan of anguish rose at the ancient gag.
"Hmmm, maybe I should take two aspirin." Troop joined in rejection of the much overused joke.
"Say, that reminds me. You know that once I couldn't swallow a pill? Anybody have that trouble?" A few hesitant hands rose.
"No kidding? Let's see the hands of everybody who can't swallow a pill. Four people, huh?" He noted the four slightly embarrassed faces.
"Boy, when I used to try to swallow a pill it always stuck to my mouth." Picking out a boy, "Does that happen to you, Bill?"
"It sticks to the back of my tongue."
"And you, Virginia?"
"They stick against the roof of my mouth."
"Hey, that's right. I'd forgotten that. Well, luckily for me, while traveling in highest Tibet, I happened into the temple of an aged Lama who had discovered the innermost secrets of pill swallowing. He disclosed to me the ancient and secret method possessed only by the patriarch of the sect, the aging Lama of Singra-Hi."
Boden listened with interest as the teacher captured the imaginations of his young audience. "Now," Troop added, "I will use that rare gem of knowledge to teach each of you four to swallow a pill without problem, without effort, and at any time in any place.
He selected a student. "Joe, you and Bill go to the nurse's office and ask her if I can have about twenty empty capsules. Virginia, you and Frankie go to the cafeteria and bring back a pitcher of cold water and four glasses. Move out!"
Boden saw the students dash off and wished that, although he didn't need them, Mr. Troop would just once in a while issue a hall pass. Some teachers couldn't keep track of their students without passes, and they did cut down on hall traffic.
Troop busied himself getting a number of small groups started and explained a point or two to individuals. The class settled into a subdued bustle as students became absorbed in their own efforts. The two groups quickly returned with their capsules and water supply and, as Troop settled them into a corner.
Boden pondered the teacher's techniques. Of course, Troop had given the nurse the empty capsules or there wouldn't have been any available and judging by the moisture on the pitcher, the ice water had also been waiting in the cafeteria.
Boden wondered that Troop had not brought the aids to the classroom and had them ready? Then he followed Troop's thinking, recognizing that allowing the students to get their own materials immediately involved them, changing their status from observers to participants and, Boden thought wryly, occupied them while the teacher organized the remainder of his class.
Comfortably settled, the four to be taught pill swallowing sat facing Mr. Troop, their backs toward the class so there would be no distractions. On the table before them lay the empty capsules and the pitcher with four glasses. The students waited expectantly as Mr. Troop fingered a capsule.
"Well, let's see now; we know these are empty capsules so it won't hurt anyone to swallow one, right?" Nods of assent. "The first secret to know," Troop managed to appear almost conspiratorial, and the students leaned toward him to hear better, "is that we will not swallow the pill, we will drink it." He did not pause to allow thought on the statement. "The next important point is proper placement of the pill and finally, fast drinking. That's all there is to it."
Troop sat back, triumphantly throwing his arms wide as though a great victory had been achieved. Not allowing time for doubts to creep in, he continued.
"Each of you place a capsule on the very front of your tongue, not in the back now, but just inside, almost on the tip of your tongue. Then, when I say 'Begin' you'll drink your entire glass of water before I raise all of my fingers."
He demonstrated raising a finger at a time on his right hand in rapid sequence until all were stiffly upright. "You may pour the water, Virginia."
Virginia poured while the three boys looked nervously about and Troop looked confident.
"Ok, everybody, put a capsule in your mouth. Good! Now, slosh it around a little so that it gets wet." Virginia giggled.
"Now get it on the front of your tongue and hold it there. Let's see." Mouths opened. "Good!"
He held up his hand. "Everybody grab your glass and get all the water down before my last finger goes up. Are you ready?"
Four sets of eyes glued to Troop's fist. The pills were almost forgotten.
"Begin!" The word was a command and four throats gulped mightily. "One!" Troop's thumb went up, "Two!" A forefinger, "Three! Hurry, Virginia! Four! Faster, faster! Five! Everybody done?" They were, with Bill putting on a great show of exhaustion, panting and blowing.
"Anyone still got their pill?' Boden had himself half-forgotten the capsules in his concentration on the drinking. He saw Virginia's look of surprised delight and knew she had also momentarily forgotten her pill. All were nodding; amid the deluge of gulped water the capsules had all gone down.
"Good going, gang! Easy when you know how, now, let's go over it. What are the things to remember?" They reviewed the pill position exclaiming how they "Had never felt a thing" and over who had drunk their water the fastest. Bill was sure he could swallow two pills at once and Frankie knew he could do three.
Troop allowed a few moments for enthusiasm and appreciation of their success, then presented each student with four capsules to swallow before noon and none together—just to m
ake them extra sharp at it. Suddenly they were discussing where pills had originated, how many kinds of pills there were, danger in pills, and good things pills did and assignments were going out. One student to research the history of pills; another to collect every kind of pill he could get and make a display, safely under glass with labels. Finally, the group of four would present their findings to the class, probably in about a week.
Troop left them planning vigorously among themselves and busied himself with other students. A pair left for the library (again without passes, Boden noted) and when the bell rang, two students were involved in a heated discussion over pyramids. Troop gave the pair a few thoughts on their subject and they dashed away talking animatedly—still on pyramids.
Troop turned to Boden with a grin. "Know how to swallow a pill, Mr. Boden?' Troop half-laughed adding, "Hard to tie that sort of thing into history, but they needed the lesson now. Next year they'd be too big to learn kid stuff like that." They laughed together while Troop tossed things into drawers of his desk. Boden noticed there was little to put away. The chairs and desks were in the usual Troop disarray but there was no clutter. Virginia had taken the water pitcher with her and the empty pill box had gone into the waste basket. Boden often marveled at the minimum of materials Troop used. Most aids were student prepared and most materials were student acquired. He made a mental note to run a quick study on the relative expenditures by each social studies teacher at Newport High. He thought it might provide interesting comparisons.
They walked from the classroom together up to the "T" of the hallway, Troop bound for the relaxation of the faculty room and Boden to his office, the endless paperwork, and a cherished Tiparillo.
Bill leaned out of a classroom door as they passed and said, "Hey, Mr. Troop! I've swallowed two already!"
"Get back in there!" Troop snapped with mock severity and the boy's grinning face disappeared amid the classroom teacher's rising demand for Billy Williams to get back in his seat at once.
Troop shook his head wonderingly and Boden said, "Troop, you'll ruin this school yet."
They parted at the "T", two educators, both satisfied with what they had seen and done.
It wasn't until he was entering his office that Boden remembered that he really should say something to Troop about the hall passes . . . sometime.
+++++
Because it took an hour to write a sensible report, Ben did not get to the faculty room until after most of the teaching staff had gone home. He had been interrupted once in his work by Al Gold, who, as usual, paid no attention to the closed door and, as usual, neglected the customary courtesy of knocking.
"Jesus Christ, Ben, tell me about it! I hear you busted that damned Ruby all to hell!" He examined the floor. "Bill Hosler told me there was blood all over the place. I don't see any blood," he added suspiciously, as though he might be the victim of a hoax.
"Where've you been, Al? I expected your ugly mug in here an hour ago."
"Had a class. Come on, Ben. Give me the straight story. All I can get are wild tales."
Troop sighed, "Well, Ruby took a couple of swings at me and I hung a couple on him."
Gold sat waiting and when Troop failed to continue, erupted in disgust. "For Christ's sake, Ben, that's a story? I could of got better from the janitor. Come on, man, blow by blow. You know, who said what. God almighty, Troop. You bust hell out of our star halfback and seem to figure nobody's interested? Give me facts, man, facts!"
"Ok, Al. You know Ruby's been working on me since school started. I think today he just figured to bring it to a head, period. So, he started the usual coughing and wriggling." Gold nodded with weary understanding.
"Then he belched out loud." Gold grinned.
"Then he farted."
Gold's mouth dropped open. "Well, I'll be . . . That when you hit him?'
"No. I told him to stand up. He came up swinging. I slipped them . . . .
"What did he throw, man, right hands, left hands, what?"
"Well, a sort of clumsy left hand and a pretty good right cross. Anyway, I nailed him with a left hook." Troop paused and Gold got a hint of something in his eyes. "Then I hit him with a second hook."
This time the pause was longer, as though Troop was considering something not yet clear in his own mind. "Well, he hit the floor leaking a lot of blood. I had two boys take him up to Miss Lilley. Boden thinks his jaw and nose are both broken. They took him to Shanks."
It was quiet for a moment. Then Al said, "Whew!" And was silent again.
"How'd the class take it?"
"Ok, I guess. Nobody fainted, but the rest of the period was just marking time."
"How'd Boden take it?"
"Well, he damned sure isn't thrilled. I'm trying to get out a report to him now, incidentally."
"Yeah, yeah, I figured you were." Gold showed no signs of leaving. "Listen, Ben, you know there's going to be all kinds of hell raised over this. I don't think I ever heard of a student getting busted up like that, did you?'
"Not that I can recall."
"Well," he speculated, "the teachers' organization will probably stand behind you because Ruby took a poke at you first. No telling how the town will go. I suppose most people don't give a damn about what goes on up here anyway, but those that do'll have to take sides. Jesus, Ben, those Rubys will be after you for sure and they aren't anything to joke about!"
"Yeah, I've been thinking about them. Man, I'm getting too old for this sort of thing, Al."
"Aren't we all? I don't know what else you could have done, really. That Tom Ruby is a tough cookie and meaner than hell. Too bad you had to hit him twice. You know they'll screw around with that. Once is self-defense. Two, you're inflicting punishment or something. Look, Ben, if you need any help on this, if the Rubys give you trouble or anything. I'm available." He stopped, feeling self-conscious.
Troop grinned, not answering, but slapped him appreciatively on the shoulder. "Thanks, Al. Maybe I'll need a bodyguard. Sure hope not. Now for God's sake, take off and let me finish this, will you?"
Troop found it difficult to return to the report. Both Boden and Gold had touched on the real point bothering him. It was the problem area of the whole mess; the second blow to Tom Ruby's face.
He didn't feel right about it. It hadn't been necessary and he hadn't consciously planned to throw it. Instead of a simple self-defense plea, he'd probably have to defend an action he did not himself wholly understand.
He turned to the report, trying in it to explain the reflexes developed twenty years earlier that produced a combination so ingrained as to be automatic. He wrote the words and found them hollow. He felt he sounded about as intelligent as one of Pavlov's dogs. When the bell rings, salivate. When you score with a hook, throw another. He wasn't sure he believed it himself and wondered if the response was a secret desire to pound Tom Ruby into the ground.
He finished his writing and took it to the office. On impulse, he handed the papers to the head secretary, suggesting she check them over before they went in to Mr. Boden. Having the girls read his version would let them feel they had the genuine inside dope on the matter, and it would level off some of the rumors surely floating around.
Boden was in conference with some students, from his class no doubt, and Troop left word he'd be in the faculty room if Boden wanted to see him.
The faculty room was nearly empty. Two older teachers quickly gathered themselves and left, as though afraid they might be discovered too close to Ben Troop. He saw them go with a cynical nod. Their hurry to gain distance between themselves and trouble spoke so loudly that Troop almost laughed. Lin O'Day did laugh. She had waited in hope that Ben would drop by before he left the school.
She watched him flop into a chair, and rising, walked over to the machine. "Coke, Ben?"
"Yes, thanks, Lin. Make it an orange if there is one."
She handed him the soft drink and sat down a safe distance away where no intimacy would be suspected by anyone entering the room. Sh
e knew his moods and sensed that he was more troubled than he outwardly showed.
Lin O'Day had heard versions of the fight from a number of different sources. It had been the only subject of conversation in the faculty room, and she had watched with interest as sides were drawn and positions taken. Most faculty opinions were predictable and some ludicrously so.
John Luther had nodded wisely and told everyone how he had long expected something like this. Unfortunately for his argument, he had turned to Cliff Roberts for support. While Roberts might have enjoyed accusing Troop of massive brutality, the memory of his own debacle with Troop was too embarrassing and he was forced to resort to a weak "Oh, I don't know? Which satisfied no one, including himself.
Lin refrained from vigorous support of Ben Troop lest a suspicious listener read something extra into her defense. It seemed, in fact, that few were willing to stand beside Ben and say aloud, in front of witnesses, that he handled it just right, and that Tom Ruby needed his jaw bent.
There was a great deal of headshaking and many regrets that it should have come to this. Some "I don't know what else he could have done" floated through the discussion. A few admitted they would like to have given Tom Ruby a smack themselves, and one self-chastiser avowed as how they were all to blame for allowing Ruby to get worse every year instead of putting him in his place.
Ben interrupted her reverie by placing his bottle on the floor beside his chair and lifting his feet onto the battered coffee table.
"What a day."
"What's going to happen over all this, Ben?" Neither found it necessary to identify what was being talked about. "Boden's working up his plan for a school board meeting."
"What do you mean, 'his plan'?"
"Oh, you know, Lin. Reports from witnesses, what I've got to say about it, the doctor's report, I suppose, maybe even something from Tom. I don't know. All the crap you have to have to present a case."
The Didactor Page 6
