In 1968 I landed a job in Berriman JHS <br />thus keeping me out of Viet Nam <br />but if I faltered and got fired <br />I’d be there swatting flies and fleeing bullets. <br />My control wasn’t fabulous, <br />yet it existed, somewhat, at moments. <br />Melvin Smeld was another story. <br />He’d been relieved of his regular English program <br />when Ruth Kaufman returned from her bout with pneumonia <br />but as luck would have it <br />he landed a regular Science program <br />when Joseph Botts got pushed down a flight of stairs <br />and broke his left arm and right leg. <br />“How goes it? ” I asked. <br />“It’s rough, Bernstein, the kids don’t listen..” <br />“Did you call up any mothers? ” <br />“It doesn’t do any good. <br />I call up at night and the next day <br />they’re back to their old tricks again” <br />“Don’t give up, ” I said sternly, <br />“or you’re off to Viet Nam.” <br />Smeld stared at me, lips twitching <br />barely able to get the words out, <br />“Did you hear what happened? ” <br />“No.” <br />“They killed all the fish. Gilmore. <br />Oh, you gotta watch him <br />put ink in the tank, water turned blue <br />then he strangled a goldfish <br />in the back of the room. <br />Assistant Principal Stein came in <br />and gave him hell, but it won’t help <br />next day he’ll be doing the same thing.” <br />“Sit him up front.” <br />Smeld stared at me quite hopeless <br />finally managing to mumble, <br />“Principal Foy says he’s fed up with me.” <br />And don’t you know <br />the next day a kid heaved a chair <br />out the window onto Foy’s sky blue Cadillac <br />smashing Smeld to smithereens.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gloomy-scenes-foreshadowing-future-commotions/
