The future of John Wayne Cotter H.S., clouded with rumour, made more
frightening by speculation, now loomed with certainty once they’d turned into
the new year. Everyone went about their tasks with strained or surly temper,
sensing that the Spring semester could very well be their last together.
The ripples of change had already touched the carpool. Jim Lightbody tried to
put a bolder than usual face on things. Bob Meir was going on sabbatical.
Apparently he’d told only Lightbody about it. “Didn’t he tell you?” Lightbody
asked the others, a little chagrined he was the only one who knew. “I’m sure
he mentioned it some time.” Meir wasn’t with them that day.
“I see you’re putting on weight in certain quarters,” Ghansam said, patting
Lightbody on the stomach. Lightbody glanced at his stomach and made a
dismissive noise, not quite ready to change the subject.
“So what’s he going to do?” Brebnor asked.
“Well, he has to take nine graduate credits…I think he’s going to St Joseph’s
College, in Westchester.”
“Why is he going on sabbatical now?” Ghansam wanted to know.
“That’s what everybody does. You take your sabbatical in the spring, it flows
right into the summer holidays, you come back in September…”
“Nine education credits…that’s like going back to college again…which is why
I haven’t taken sabbatical. I’ve had enough of college courses,” Brebnor said.
“It’s not that bad. You take the courses that are related to your field,”
Lightbody said.
“What’s Bob going to do? Did he tell you?”
“I think he said Human Sexuality…”
“…that should spice up his marriage!”
“…and the History of Television”
“Sexuality and television,” Ghansan gave a short laugh. “But wouldn’t that
raise a few eyebrows at the Board of Education?”
The school was closed for Martin Luther King Day, which fell near the end of
the fall semester. It seemed not a good time to celebrate King or any slain
hero; teachers were digging out from under mounds of paperwork, final
grades had to be entered, pass/fail issues dealt with. Many truants showed
up at this time with smiles and a bright determination to make things right.
In English class they offered to do a book report, do anything to make up for
weeks of absence or missed assignments.
During the days before the Martin Luther King break, Mrs. Haliburton, for
reasons she never fully explained, showed up without her head wrap. It
caught the attention of Marjorie Paige (Math) who secretly monitored Mrs.
Haliburton’s words and wardrobe; who now simply had to tell someone what
she’d noticed.
“Have you seen her this morning?” she said to Mrs. Boneskosky (English).
They were on line in the teacher’s cafeteria. Mrs. Boneskosky, not happy
with the day's lunch menu, was considering the pizza slices along with the
French fries. She felt tired and a bit cranky; she’d just done three-classes
-in-a row.
“Seen who?”
“Our Equal Opportunity Advisor… Mrs. Haliburton? I mean, have you
noticed anything strange about her?”
“No I haven’t… I haven’t seen her.” Mrs. Boneskosky tried to shake off
Marjorie Paige. She was in no mood for idle gossip, especially from this
odious little plump woman who, like her colleagues in the Math depart-
ment, could not lift their conversation above the level of backbiting gossip.
“She hasn’t got her turban thing on today.”
“Her what?”
“You know, that wrap thing she always wears wrapped round her head.
She’s not wearing it today.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” Mrs. Boneskosky seemed at that moment
absorbed with food selection.
“Well, she’s got short hair…I mean, she’s a shorthaired woman…I was
flummoxed.” Mrs. Boneskosky’s own thoughts had begun to drift, but that
word flummoxed, so rare a choice for a Math teacher, snapped a finger at
her weary spirit.
With a quick intake of breath she made an effort to listen to Marjorie Paige
who, it appeared, was also having a pizza slice, the French fries and some
soggy broccoli. “And all this time,” Marjorie Paige continued, “I used to think
she had a full head of hair under that…turban thing…and this morning she
steps into the elevator and… I almost fell to the floor. It was so…” Marjorie
Paige seemed lost for the next word, and Mrs.Boneskosky promptly lost
interest in her again. “I mean, I couldn’t recognize her at first…just this itsy-
bitsy bit of hair on her head.”
Mrs. Haliburton may or may not have sensed the mild consternation her
headwear had provoked. After the Martin Luther King holiday, just as
mysteriously, she resumed the wearing of her head wrap.
(from “Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!”, a novel by N.D. Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 