Until he found the side entrance through which he'd exit Radix was not prepared for a
structure that occupied almost an entire block. He drove around its perimeter looking for a
parking spot, thinking naively there must be space to park somewhere near the building. He
had to park two blocks away then walk back, around the black iron railings, until he found
the front entrance.
He was struck by the austere towering architecture of the school. It looked like a fortress,
solid, sprawling, built to withstand centuries of seasonal and student depredations; like some
quaint structure out of Europe dedicated to the pursuit of ecclesiastical studies. He imagined a
Latin-teaching instructor standing at the front entrance in 1935, the year the school was
constructed, ushering students inside and admonishing everyone to be quiet.
But there was the American flag hanging on the silver flagpole; and on the door, graffiti
loops and squiggles, as if some crew of angry locals had struck the night before.
He'd been told to report to the school's payroll secretary. She greeted him with narrow
squinty eyes, her mouth half-open in surprise and suspicion, as if she was also the armed
guard of the teachers' payroll.
She told him she didn't think there was a position for him at John Wayne Cotter H.S. She
averted her eyes, her fingers shuffled the paperwork on her desk; and with fast dwindling
patience she said, yes, she understood the Board of Education had sent him here; and, yes,
his paperwork seemed in order; but things were kind of hectic at the moment; he'd just have
to wait until she got it all sorted out.
Radix left her tiny office and wandered around on the first floor. He peered into empty
classrooms; he wondered what the faded words PHYSICS RECITATION on one door meant.
There were desks in orderly rows screwed onto the floor, and the blackboards had a washed
surface gleam he would never again see once classes started.
He came across a display board of alumni, dating back to the 1950s, with names like Tatle
and Leibowitz, Burghardt and Terpening, all winners of awards for "Good Citizenship" and
"Superior Scholarship". Some time in the 1980s they'd stopped inscribing names. A Jasmine
Maldonado and a Baljit Singh came through and won awards in 1986.
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!", a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 