For the marking and grading of the State Regents exam Pete Plimpler organized
his department into teams, selected, he said, smiling ruefully, on the basis of
their congruent personalities. He appointed captains to solve problems and
disputes that might arise.
Bilicki was the captain of his team. He winced when he read the names of his
team members: Agulnick, Ballancharia, Blitch. What congruence was Pete
talking about. He'd simply arranged the department alphabetically, the lazy
fop! Mrs.Ballancharia, always careful not to offend, laughed at everything that
was said. Amanda and Mimi Agulnick, the drama teacher, acted as if they hadn't
seen each other in ages.
Sporting a bowtie, and a brand new shirt he'd evidently cracked open for the
marking session first day, Pete Plimpler made a short speech about responsi-
bilities; he reminded everyone the room was off limits to inquiring students;
papers should remain in the room at all times, which meant that Bilicki couldn't
disappear somewhere quiet once the chatter started; and lunch break should
not exceed the stipulated one hour.
Most everyone was dressed in blue jeans, or something suitably informal;
except Bilicki, who showed up dressed for just another day at the office, and
was told to relax when he complained about the noise level affecting his
concentration.
Captains had not much power; they assigned tasks and coordinated activities.
Bilicki knew he had to be careful. Each teacher was in a sense a captain of his
or her classroom once the doors closed; they didn't take it kindly when spoken
to about grading; they became edgy and defensive if a colleague questioned
their judgment, no matter how subtle the questioning.
They were expected to follow the criteria for measurement set out by the
State, but as the hours slipped by, and the pile of brown envelopes still looked
formidable, fatigue set in, the eye glazed over from repeating the same task;
and grading sometimes became a snap response.
Situations would arise and swell and consume everyone with cross-talk:
"Has anyone heard of Deliverance?" "Heard of what?" "This kid is using as his
reference a novel titled Deliverance." "Wait, I think I've heard of… isn't that by
that writer, what's her name?" "Judith Cranston." "Riiight… doesn't she write
those torrid romance novels?" "That she does." "Okay, but is that literature?"
"Well, the question did say, Choose two works from the literature you have
read." "Right, not necessarily the literature we have taught." "Right, so I
suppose we should accept this book." "Yes, but does anyone know this book,
Deliverance?" "Deliverance was written by James Dickey." "Judith Cranston
writes these trashy novels about sex and betrayal and handsome cruel men…"
"What am I to do with this essay?" "Wasn't there a movie with that name?" "Oh,
that's a different Deliverance." "About four guys in canoes and the Cajun
people?" "I think I saw that movie." "No, that was something completely
different."
"What am I to do with this essay?" "Amanda…Amanda… I just told you who
the writer was. You're not listening to me." "Just mark it. I mean, does it sound
credible? Does it try to answer the question?" "Yes, but suppose the kid made
it all up." "Oh, I don't know, ask Pete." "Who's the kid?" "…Jennifer Eliely?"
"Oh, I had her once. She's a good kid." "She's not going to be here next
semester." "What do you mean?" "I hear she's moving out of state… she's trans-
ferring." "Why would she do that?" "Apparently, she saw something dangerous."
"Saw something dangerous?" "That's what I heard. She. Saw. Something
dangerous. In her building. So her parents are shipping her out." "What a
shame. She's such a sweet kid." "I still don't understand. What could she
possibly see that was dangerous?" "Brendan, could you help me with this? I
don't know what to do with this."
"I just wish you'd all shut up. And get on with marking," Brendan's brow was
creased and grim. He'd been stuck on one paragraph, reading it over and over,
unable to block out completely the talk that seemed always too loud. "We've
still got piles and piles of envelopes, and the tallies to do, and then…"
"Whoa, Brendan, Brendan, you really must learn to relax, "Amanda said.
"Yes, you need a time out, lighten up," John Benkovitz shouted from across the
room."
"What you really need is to see your barber… no kidding… this time of year, a
haircut would do wonders for your state of mind."
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!" a novel by N.D.Williams 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 