Luke Grown Up

When I was a senior in high school, I took what may have been the worst English class of my life. The teacher was this woman named Mrs. Baca, and she was a fuckin’ terror. There was just something about her that made me hate her. Perhaps it was the hair that everyone speculated was a wig. Maybe the strange, haughty-sounding accent. It could have even been her hate for baseball because all the players did was chew gum and spit. Who knows! One way or another, I managed to terrorize her for a full year with the complete approval of my classmates. Don’t get me wrong here - I was a good kid in high school. I tried hard and I was well-loved by most teachers, but Baca was an interesting case. Here are a couple stories that I hope make you smile.

I wrote about this on dynamoaf, but I just can’t help myself - so here it is again. At some point in the year we had to read a Shakespeare play and pull out a line from it and write a poem around it. I can’t believe I had the balls to write the following, as well as recite it proudly to the whole class. Here it is, with maybe one or two words changed over the course of time (Shakespeare line in bold):

She aks me for a raise
It more than I can pays
What, ho! What, ho! What, ho!
The answer still be no.

To this day I’ve never witnessed such a resonant silence as followed my recitation. Baca did not even seem to notice, as she just went on to the next person. I hope someone actually listened to the words.

Later on in the year, I don’t really know why, but we were in a different room in the school for English on a select day (I think the MCAS or something was going on in the wing we usually used). So we’re sitting there, and people are going to the front of the room and presenting projects or reciting something. Not important. I’m about halfway in the back of the class, and I had a brilliant idea to flick a nickel at Mike, the kid that was at the front of the room. My reasoning was, if I just leave my hand on my leg under my desk and just flick up my thumb like I were flicking a coin, then no one would be able to tell it was me. So I flick the nickel, and it whacks into the ceiling about halfway between me and Mike, then SLAMS down on the teacher’s desk in front. I really don’t think anyone even noticed. Except Baca. She pulled me out of class rather quickly and yelled at me for doing that - I denied it. I got sent to a private office and got to read Inherit The Wind on my own. Really not a bad punishment. Didn’t even have to talk to any Assistant Principals or anything.

One thing I always seemed to get away with though was flipping Baca off. She would turn to the board and I would just stick my finger in the air. As time went on, I got more bold about it, using both hands and standing up, fists raised high in the air. Others followed in my example and started doing it too. I think there were a few close calls, but no one ever got in trouble.

In this vein, I was able to get other members of the class to become insubordinate as well. I remember well some people getting very rowdy, talking back, making snide remarks, giving sarcastic answers to questions. Baca never seemed to notice we were just treating her like total shit.

Which brings me to my last point. This was one of the best things I did in high school (pretty sad, but I was a lame kid). During the second half of the year, we got these thick paperback books containing short stories from all of these American writers. Actually quite a good book - I have one at my house somewhere. Anyway, we consulted these books nearly every day in class, so they would be passed out when we needed them, but at the end of class, they were always passed to the front. I had other plans. Starting in late March/early April, every time a book was place in my hands, I took it. I put it in my bag, then in my locker on the top shelf. By the end of the year, I had almost 20 of these books. The shortage was being noticed, but no one had any idea who was taking them. I handed one or two out to friends and kept another for myself. On the second-to-last day of class, I raised my hand and asked to be excused. I came back balancing a huge stack of books in my arms, and when I walked in, the class erupted in laughter. The final class, I got a note from Baca on one of my papers saying that it was very rude for me to take the books and that it inhibited learning and all that bullshit. I had a good laugh.

In all, that class was no good. But I had some fun times. If I had to do it again, I certainly wouldn’t. That class sucked shit.

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