Our Autumn Fire

Eleven

    The students in room O-4-7 sat at their desks quietly asking each other the same question: “Where’s Mr. Holter?” None of them had the answer.

    Wesley was outside wiping off the sidewalk chalk in his parking spot which read: “Mr. Holter loves to suck the D!” It was the third incident in two weeks. Granted the first two had been much more creative, putting up pictures of half nude male models in his classroom and making a PA statement that his boyfriend was looking for him. This one was just lazy, but the continual harassment was beginning to get to Wesley.

    He showed up in class nearly ten minutes late with dark marks at the knees of his khakis from kneeling to wipe the pavement clean. Some of the students noticed and pointed it out to others who made quiet sexual jokes that Wesley pretended not to hear.

    “Sorry about the time, guys. Had some… car trouble. Anyways, homework up front please!”

    A wide eyed boy in the front row pointed at the desk on which Wesley was leaning. “Already got it for you Mr. H!” Some of the other students giggled, but the boy beamed.

    “Oh thanks, Avery.” He stretched to loosen his back which had tightened during his janitorial session. “So how was everyone’s weekend?”

    A couple of the girls spoke up about going on dates, and one of the boys mentioned going to see the Catcher in the Rye movie that just came out like he had suggested.

    “Grant can’t be the only one that saw it.”

    “I did!” Avery again beamed with pride that he had done something Mr. Holter had said would be a good idea. “It was amazing!”

    More giggles followed.

    “Alright, a show of hands, who else took up my suggestion to go see it?”

    A few hands raised into the air.

    “Oh good, but don’t tell me how it ends! I haven’t seen it yet!” The class gave off a laugh that was half pity at the sheer corniness of their teacher and half actual enjoyment at his joke.

    Wesley moved to the other side of his desk and began to write on the chalkboard. “Now let’s get started. You were all supposed to have read to page three hundred and ninety-four of The Power of One. Who can tell me where PK is at now.”

    First period finished without a hitch after the lousy welcome he had received that morning, and Wesley looked forward to a day that would only get better, but he knew he would have trouble with his students in fourth period because of the pop quiz he had planned.

    In the meantime he decided to use his break to get a snack in the teacher’s lounge. The room was empty except for Mr. Bolt Whitman the vice principal and Desiree Kerbow, the principal’s secretary.

    The old man was telling the young woman about his recent trip to a West African school where chaos had ensued after a group of students had started a website filled with some very serious allegations about the behaviors of the majority of the student body as well as some of the faculty. The event made the rounds in the press in the foreign country but never got the viral treatment that Bolt had expected, so he made it his personal quest to inform as many people about the tragedy of cliques on a high school campus.

    Desiree quested right back with a story about a basketball player who had broken the boundaries by starring in a play at a school in Ohio. Wesley smiled and said hi but otherwise kept to himself, grabbing a snack pack from the fridge and silently enjoying the deliciously cool chocolate pudding.