Rather than spread the seeds of mental and behavioral instability as a burden for all teachers and students to bear, our school continued the policy of herding all problem children into a single class for one teacher to manage. I can only imagine what a teacher’s reaction was as he or she read the class assignment for an upcoming year. In one quick scan his or her shoulders might slump as they mentally wrote off the year or perhaps considered quitting the teaching profession. Mr. Peloski, our science teacher, must have had just such a reaction when handed his 10th grade science class roll. Perhaps his wife saw him cry.
Our science class consisted of the worst seeds; those destined to grow up to be weeds and gnarled trees, the ones growing next to a fence or building foundation only to have their growth retarded and constricted. I was a bad seed. I was told so. As a seed perhaps I would find root, break the soil and grow around a junk yard only to have a fence intertwine with my bark, constraining and limiting me to the soiled shadow of the junk yard. Other bad seeds would climb me to gain the fence and steal auto parts and batteries as I hoisted them towards their future. Science class was just one step on my path to the junk yard fence.
As the weeks rolled by our science class settled into a groove. Mr. Peloski lectured us and initiated weekly lab sessions as he hammered home the concept of action and reaction. “You’re not getting it!” he hollered as we deployed the lab material in new and untried manners. We constantly pushed and pressed Mr. Peloski, in order to get him to the point of explosion. We broke as much equipment as possible in an effort to create the desired reaction. Once we identified and crossed the invisible boundary of acceptable behavior, he would explode, cast his eyes towards his black desktop exposing his speckled bald spot, write a note and send us to Mr. Columbo’s office. As he penned his note summarizing unsatisfactory behavior we screamed “You’re bald!”
We constantly searched for this boundary over which passing created an explosion. Books and graduated cylinders were tossed out the second floor window in an effort to probe our subject. Reaction was our goal. Huge flames were left unattended as I pulled the rubber hoses connecting the Bunsen burners to the gas outlets and let the outlets burn like little wildcat oil wells. After Henry and I discovered magnesium was used in firebombing entire German cities in WWII we began boiling water in beakers and adding magnesium. We gained the desired reaction.
We had four science classes each week, one of which was a lab class. During science class Mr. Peloski peppered us with questions, seeking to publicly confirm our ignorance and his dominance of the topic at hand. He could not control us so he belittled us. On one such occasion he posed a simple question to Henry regarding the periodic table to which Henry responded with a blank stare. “Not too smart, are we Henry?” asked Peloski. “Take that back, Mr. Peloski.” Henry responded.
Mr. Peloski put down his pen and stood up, removing his glasses. “What did you just say to me, young man?”
“Take that back or you’ll be sorry for the rest of your life,” warned Henry.
Mr. Peloski, leaned over and scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it and stapled it, slamming the stapler. As he looked down I ducked my head under my desk and screamed, “You’re fucking bald!”
Peloski’s head jerked up as he stared at Henry, “Henry, get the hell out of my classroom and take this note with you to Mr. Colombo’s office. Go. Now!”
Henry threw his desk to the side and ran to the window, pulling the bottom window up and letting a swirling breeze into our second story window. Papers lifted from two nearby desks and floated up on a breeze of tension, arcing beautifully to the floor where they remained. “I’ll jump, Peloski. I don’t give a shit.”
“He’ll do it, Mr. Peloski. You’re gonna make him do it,” I warned.
Peloski braced himself. “Shut up, Kinkade. Shut the hell up. Henry, step away from the window NOW or I am going to get Mr. Colombo myself.”
Henry threw his leg up on the wooden window sill, knocking a peeled swirl of yellow paint to the floor. “I’ll do it. I’m sick of you treating me like shit. You treat me like shit and I hate you. I hate you! I’m gonna do it, Mr. Peloski. I’m gonna do it.”
Peloski began walking towards Henry and Henry quickly responded by jumping up and straddling the window sill, knocking more paint chips to the floor. “Stop, stop, don’t touch him,” we started screaming. “Don’t go near him, you’ll kill him!”
“I hate you,” screamed Henry. “I hate you Mr. Peloski.”
Sensing he had lost control, Mr. Peloski screamed, “Don’t move, Henry.” He bolted out the door. Following him I ran to the door and watched his bulbous ass jiggle back and forth as he hit the stairwell heading downstairs towards Principal Colombo’s office.
I ran back in, “He’s going to Colombo’s office!” I warned Henry.
.
Henry dismounted the window sill and followed Peloski’s footsteps out the door, screaming, “Tell the fucker I jumped.”
With Henry gone it remained quiet as we took our seats and waited.
Principal Colombo and Peloski marched in. “Where is Henry?” barked Mr. Colombo.
“He jumped. He jumped out the window,” I volunteered. A wave of pure terror washed across the faces of Colombo and Peloski as they darted towards the open window, throwing their stomachs onto the sill and peering out. “OH MY GOD,” screamed Colombo.
We all threw our chairs and desks aside in a cascade of screeches on linoleum as we joined our teacher and principal at the window. Henry was lying on the sidewalk, eyes closed and arms and legs splayed about him like a broken doll. “You killed him,” whispered Tony to Peloski. “You killed him.”
Peloski’s hands covered his mouth as he whispered out the beginnings of a prayer, “Dear God … I, I …Our father who art in Heaven …” He fell forward and began to dry heave.
Colombo ran out of the class, heading downstairs, “Jesus Christ, someone call an ambulance.” Peloski jerked back to reality and followed him; running faster than I have ever seen a fat person run. Once exiting the classroom I returned to the window and screamed down to Henry. “Run! Run, they’re coming! Run, Henry!”
Henry leapt to his feet and, without looking up, flew down the street, darting out of site bouncing off a parked car and some bushes like an errant molecule.
