The boys were talking when he entered Room 206, but they took their seats immediately and stared at Rick as he went to his desk. Miller watched him with raised eyebrows. The room was dead silent.
Good, Rick thought. That’s the way it should be.
He put his Delaney book on the desk, opened it, and quickly took the attendance. West, he noted with satisfaction, was absent. That was good, too. He’d be able to concentrate on Miller exclusively.
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a blue-jacketed book titled Graded Units in Vital English. He opened the book on his desk, reading the stamped lettering on the title page:
This book is loaned to the pupil with the distinct understanding that he will not deface it in any way and that his responsibility for it will not cease until he has returned it to his teacher and received a receipt therefor.
He wondered if they understood any of the high-falutin’ language therein, turned his attention therefrom, and said, “I’d like to pinpoint some of your most common grammatical faults today, so that I’ll be able to plan the remedial work we’ll need throughout the term.”
He said it coldly, and the boys eyed him coldly, showing neither distaste nor enthusiasm for his project.
“Antoro,” he said, “will you get these books from the closet back there and distribute them to the class?”
Antoro rose without a sound. He was a good-looking boy, with sandy-brown hair and brown eyes. He walked to the front of the room, extended his hand for the key Rick offered, and then walked back to the book closet and opened it.
“You’d better give him a hand, Belazi,” Rick said. Belazi rose as soundlessly as Antoro had, walked quickly to the back of the room, and then began carrying the blue books through the aisles, dropping one on each desktop. Antoro started on the other end of the room, and the book distribution was accomplished neatly in a very few moments. Both boys returned to their seats after Antoro gave the key back to Rick.
“If you’ll all turn to page one,” Rick said, and he watched the boys move like automatons, heard the whispering pages as the boys flipped past the Preface, and the To the Teacher section, and the Suggested Aids for Study section, and the Correction Chart, and the Bibliography, and the Table of Contents.
“Page one,” Rick repeated. “Have you all got that? It’s an Achievement Test. If you’ll all look at part A, now. It says, ‘Select the correct word or words in each parenthesis.’ Have you all found that?”
No one in the class answered Rick. He frowned slightly, and then went on.
“There’s an example there of what’s to be done.” He paused, and then read aloud: “EXAMPLE: He (done, did) what he was told. Answer: did.” He paused again. “Do you all get the idea? There are thirty-five sentences in this first section, more than enough for all of us. I’ll call on you, and you’ll take the sentences in order. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes. That’s what I want to find out. When I discover your weak spots, I’ll be able to fix them. Is that clear?”
The class remained silent. The boys looked up from their books expectantly, but no one said a word.
“All right,” Rick said, “will you take the first one, Miller?”
He had chosen Miller purposely, hoping the boy would start things off right, especially after his chat with him the other day. A lot of things had happened since that chat, though, and Rick didn’t know exactly where he stood with the colored boy. Miller made a motion to rise, and Rick quickly said, “We can do this seated, boys.”
Miller made himself comfortable in his seat again, and then studied the first sentence. Rick wasn’t really anticipating too much difficulty with the test. This was a fifth-term class, and they’d had most of this material pounded into their heads since they were freshmen. The first sentence read: Henry hasn’t written {no, any) answer to my letter.
Rick read the sentence, and then looked out at Miller. “Well, Miller, what do you say?”
Miller hesitated for just a moment. “Henry hasn’t written no answer to my letter,” he said.
Rick stared at Miller, and then he looked out at the class. Something had come alive in their eyes, but there was still no sound. The silence was intense, pressurized almost. “No,” Rick said. “It should be ‘Henry hasn’t written any answer.’ Well, that’s all right. I want to learn your mistakes. Will you take the next one, Carter?”
Carter, a big red-headed boy looked at the second sentence in the test.
If I were (he, him), I wouldn’t say that.
“If I were him,” he said rapidly, “I wouldn’t say that.”
Rick smiled. “Well,” he said, “if I were you, I wouldn’t say that, either. ‘He’ is correct.”
Something was happening out there in the class, but Rick didn’t know what it was yet. There was excitement showing in the eyes of the boys, an excitement they could hardly contain. Miller’s face was impassive, expressionless.
“Antoro, will you take the next one, please?” Rick said. He had been making notes in his own book as he went along, truly intending to use this test as a guide for future grammar lessons. He looked at the third sentence now.
It was none other than (her, she).
“It was none other than her,” Antoro said quickly.
“No,” Rick said. “The answer is ‘she.’ Take the next one. Levy.”
Levy spoke almost as soon as his name was called. “George throwed the ball fast,” he said.
“Throwed the ball?” Rick said, lifting his eyebrows. “Throwed? Come now. Levy. Surely you know ‘threw’ is correct.”
Levy said nothing. He studied Rick with cold eyes.
“Belazi,” Rick said tightly, “take the next one.”
“It is them who spoke,” Belazi said.
He knew the game now. He knew the game, and he was powerless to combat it. Miller had started it, of course, and the other kids had picked it up with an uncanny instinct for following his improvisation. Now Rick would never know if they were really making errors or were just purposely giving wrong answers even when they knew the right ones. The “he-him,” “she-her” business may have thrown them, but nobody used “throwed” for “threw.” No, he couldn’t buy that.
He listened to scattered sentences throughout the test as he called on every boy in the class.
Won’t anyone borrow you a pen?
The player stealed a base.
Last term the class choose Mary Wilson as president.
She speaks worst than her brother.
Where was you when the policeman came?
Where was I indeed. Rick thought, when the brains (was, were) passed out?
“We didn’t do too well on that, did we?” he asked.
The class was silent.
Okay, Rick thought, we can play this game from both sides of the goddamn fence. If we’re going to be little smart guys, let’s all be little smart guys.
“Since we’ve gone over all the sentences in class now, and since I gave you the correct answer for each sentence, the homework for tonight should be fairly simple,” he said.