Colin would sit in the back of the classroom and disembowel Mr Stewart. Mr Stewart would plead and whimper but to no avail until the lump of chalk bounced off Colin’s head returning him to the terror and humiliation of Mr Stewart’s maths class.
Mr Stewart frightened Colin into a maths qualification. Two years later, Colin left for University where he took a First in modern languages. He was haunted throughout by paralysing flashbacks of Mr Stewart ,the fear before his lessons, the rages during, the scornful disregard in the playground.
Colin knew he would only find peace if he returned and exorcised the monster. He had to reduce him to a cowering old man in front of his current charges, thus saving them and salving his own soul. After two years he got the pluck to do it.
The return was not what he’d envisaged. The school was somehow smaller. The staff room was shabby, the younger staff surly and the older staff sheepish, as if they didn’t want him to see them like this – not grown ups but abandoned in term time.
“Colin! You’ve come back to see us,” Mr Stewart rushed towards him joyfully
Colin rehearsed his cold eyed condemnation as Mr Steward hustled him to the staffroom kettle, elbowing a geographer aside. “I had to be so beastly to you, didn’t I?” He winced at the memory, “But every college wanted maths, didn’t they? Even for you poets.” He fixed Colin with a soft, indulgent smile, “And we had such hopes for you, you talented man.”
He patted Colin on the knee and sat down. “Please, tell an old crock all the wonderful things you’re going to do now.”
So Colin put down the disembowelling hook and started to outline his plans.
Mr Stewart frightened Colin into a maths qualification. Two years later, Colin left for University where he took a First in modern languages. He was haunted throughout by paralysing flashbacks of Mr Stewart ,the fear before his lessons, the rages during, the scornful disregard in the playground.
Colin knew he would only find peace if he returned and exorcised the monster. He had to reduce him to a cowering old man in front of his current charges, thus saving them and salving his own soul. After two years he got the pluck to do it.
The return was not what he’d envisaged. The school was somehow smaller. The staff room was shabby, the younger staff surly and the older staff sheepish, as if they didn’t want him to see them like this – not grown ups but abandoned in term time.
“Colin! You’ve come back to see us,” Mr Stewart rushed towards him joyfully
Colin rehearsed his cold eyed condemnation as Mr Steward hustled him to the staffroom kettle, elbowing a geographer aside. “I had to be so beastly to you, didn’t I?” He winced at the memory, “But every college wanted maths, didn’t they? Even for you poets.” He fixed Colin with a soft, indulgent smile, “And we had such hopes for you, you talented man.”
He patted Colin on the knee and sat down. “Please, tell an old crock all the wonderful things you’re going to do now.”
So Colin put down the disembowelling hook and started to outline his plans.
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6 comments:
LOL- then it was probably a good idea i never went back after all!
The other blackboard was nice too! ;-)
But it was the wrong recipient of the chalk, Dodo. Sorry!
Masterly from either perspective,Oscar!
How very sweet, you old softies. Cynical - HAH! Pushovers with marshmallow hearts, more like it. It's my favourite story so far. I like all the stories of redemption, particularly my own.
sorta like when bill madison calls steve buscemi to apologize for harassing him as a child, then buscemi crosses him off his list of people to kill.
I am very much enjoying your tightly twisted skeins of human tragedy and blackest hilarity, and how the ends ultimately fray into good old everyday mundanity.
They all leave me smiling (despite some of the rather serious feedback you've been getting!). Keep it up.
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