“Any of you fellows plan on becoming President of the United States?” Rick asked, hoping they would see the absurdity of this, and hoping it would provide the peg he needed.
“Yeah,” West said, “I’m planning on that.”
“You are?” Rick asked. “Well, I didn’t know that.”
“Lots of things you don’t know about me, teach,” West said, grinning.
“I didn’t think we had any future presidents here,” Rick said. “I was going to say that...”
“But we do have a future president,” Miller put in. “You jus’ heard West there, dintchoo?”
“You gonna vote for me, Greg?” West asked.
“Why, sure, man,” Miller answered. “I goan lead the campaign.”
“Well,” Rick said, wanting to recapture the class before it got too far away from him, “those of us who aren’t going to become President will never have to make any speeches in my class. Of course...”
“I changed my mind,” West said, getting a laugh from the class. “I think I’ll be a mechanic instead.”
“Do mechanics got to make speeches, teach?” Miller asked.
“No,” Rick said. “No speeches.” He looked out at the class to see how all this was registering. 55-206, like all his other classes, had been disappointed during his past week of observation when his play-acting had come to an abrupt halt. They couldn’t understand why he’d stopped putting on shows, and they were disgruntled over this good thing having come to an end. The fact that they hadn’t learned a single thing from all his play-acting didn’t matter to them at all. The period had at least been an entertaining one, and that’s the most anyone could ever expect from an English class.
“Politicians make speeches,” Rick said. “I don’t think any one of you will ever be called upon to make a speech, so let’s forget speeches. You’ll never have to make a speech in one of my classes.”
“Oh yeah,” Corrente called out. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’m not kidding,” Rick said. “If there was anything I hated in high school, it was...”
“You go to high school, teach?” Miller asked innocently.
“Yes,” Rick said. “Of course.”
“That right? Which one, teach? You go to a vocational high school?”
“No,” Rick said. “I went to...”
“This your first teaching job?” West asked.
“No,” Rick lied.
“Where’d you teach before?” West asked.
“Brooklyn Automotive,” Rick said impulsively.
“Then you must’ve known Mr. Small there, huh? Is that right, teach?”
“Let’s knock the small talk off,” Rick said, unintentionally presenting a pun on the principal’s name.
Miller slapped the top of his desk and threw his head back. “Hey now,” he shouted, “that’s real clever! We talkin’ ’bout Mr. Small, and Daddy-oh here say we should knock off the small talk! That’s real clever, by God, that is.”
The class began laughing, and Rick said, “All right, cut it out. And you just keep your mouth shut, Miller.”
“How’s that, teach?” Miller asked, the smile dropping from his face.
“I said keep your mouth shut. We can’t all talk at the same time, and I happen to be doing the talking right now.”
“I thought you said we’d all get plenty opp’tunity to talk today, teach,” Miller said.
“If you’ll let me get on with the lesson,” Rick said, exasperated, “maybe we will.”
“Gee, teach,” Miller said innocently, “I had no idee I was detainin’ you. Go right ahead.”
Rick sighed, wondering why he’d lied about having taught before. Was he hoping to gain their respect that way? And had he really hoped to fool them?
“We don’t have to make speeches,” Rick said, going back to the lesson he’d prepared, “but we do have to talk in life. If you want a glass of water, you have to say, ‘Let me have a glass of water.’ You can’t say, ‘Og migga zoo nod’ and expect a glass of water. Am I right?”
“Was that French, teach?” West asked.
“No, it wasn’t French. I was just...”
“Rooshian, Chief? You speak Rooshian?”
“No, it wasn’t Russian, either. It was just nonsense, something I made...”
“You talkin’ nonsense, Chief?” Miller asked.
“I thought I asked you to shut up, Miller,” Rick snapped.
“Did you?”
“I did! Now keep your mouth closed or you’ll find yourself sitting in Mr. Stanley’s office for the rest of the day.”
“That Stan man, boy he scare me,” Miller said.
“Did you hear me, Miller?”
“When you say, ‘Ig mogga re-bop’? Why sure I heerd you. That was nonsense, wunt it?”
“I was just trying to illustrate a point, Miller. You see, we all talk. All day long, we talk. Right now, you’re talking too damned much, Miller, and...”
“Watch the language, teach,” Levy shouted. “Watch the language.”
“Thank you. Levy,” Rick said coldly. “What I’m trying to say is that in spite of all this talking that’s going on, we very rarely stop to listen.”
“I don’ follow,” De la Cruz said.
“I mean just what I said,” Rick answered. “We never really listen.”
“How cou’ that be?” Kruger said belligerently, his jaw thrust forward. “You got to listen if you ’spect to hear.”
“Oh, we listen, sure,” Rick said. “With half an ear, and a little part of the mind maybe. But we’re not really listening. We don’t really know what we sound like. And believe me, some of us sound as if we’re saying, ‘Og migga zoo nod.’ ”
“Hey, bobba ree bop!” Miller shouted.
“There’s that Russian again,” West added.
“Keep quiet, Miller,” Rick said. “Now just keep quiet, do you hear me? Just shut up!”
“Other guys talkin’,” Miller said sullenly. “Why you pickin’ on me?”
“Because you’re talking altogether too much. And because I don’t happen to like your attitude. Now shut up.”
Miller folded his arms across his chest and tightened his mouth. Rick stared at him for a few seconds, and then said, “You’ve all seen this leather box on my desk, and perhaps you’ve been wondering what it is.”
“I know what it is,” Miller said.
“It’s not a cosmetics case, Miller.”
“No kiddin’?” Miller said pointedly. “No kiddin’? It couldn’t be a li’l ol’ wire recorder, could it, teach? It couldn’t be that, could it?”
“Yes,” Rick said, the wind taken out of his sails, the careful preparation all shot to hell. “Yes, Miller, that’s what it is.”
“Well, well,” Miller said happily, “what do you know?”
“The idea is this,” Rick said. “The reason you can’t hear what you sound like is because you’re usually too busy talking to listen. Well, I’m going to give you the chance to talk first and listen later.”
“You mean we gonna make records?” Carter asked, lifting his red head for a better look at the recorder.
“Yes,” Rick said, unsnapping the lid and then plugging the cord into an outlet. He fiddled with the spools, giving the boys a little opportunity to talk it up out there. He was fairly certain most of them hadn’t used a recorder before, and they seemed to be fairly enthusiastic about the project now that it had finally got rolling. He had not been able to introduce the lesson the way he’d wanted to, thanks to his good friend Miller, but he’d still been able to generate enough interest among the kids, and that was what counted. If he could get them to loosen up, get them to give a little...
“So we gonna make speeches after all,” Miller said knowingly.