Don't Call Me Ishmael (3 page)

Fortunately, the only classes I shared with Barry Bagsley were Homeroom each morning for twenty minutes, Study of Society with Mr Barker, the Deputy Principal, and English with Miss Tarango. Of course, morning tea and lunchtime could be tricky.

‘Well, if it isn't Barbie Bimbo's pet student, Fish-whale Le Dick!'

Yes, Barry Bagsley was quite a wordsmith.

‘I always said you were a Fish-whale, but I had no idea you were a famous Fish-whale.'

Of course, at this point I could have informed Barry Bagsley that whales, since they were warm-blooded and suckled their young, were in fact mammals, not fish; however, this would have been like looking into the jaws of a frenzied shark and pointing out that it had some seaweed stuck between its teeth.

‘Hey guys, look, it's the famous Fish-whale Le Dick. Hey,
Le Dick, was that your girlfriend I saw you with yesterday or was it a white whale?'

Boom-boom.

‘Girlfriend? Le Sewer Manure wouldn't have a girlfriend. He'd stink her out.'

This gem came from Danny Wallace. Barry Bagsley was tutoring him in the traditional art of the creative put-down. He was progressing nicely.

‘Maybe she was after some Moby
Dick
too?'

I think you could probably guess how the conversation went from there. Barry Bagsley and his scrum of supporters finally drifted off when a teacher appeared on yard duty.

My next encounter with him that first day of Year Nine was in the lesson before lunch–English with Miss Tarango.

The class started with Miss Tarango outlining the unit of work for the term and somehow managing to make the assessment and even the poetry unit seem interesting. She talked a lot about the importance of language and how it could empower people. I wondered if that was true. Could language empower me to defeat Barry Bagsley? Perhaps I could drop a massive dictionary on him from a great height. I was enjoying this image when Miss Tarango handed out a sheet of paper to everyone headed
Five Amazing Facts about Me.

‘Write anything you like, but nothing boring. I don't want “My hair is brown” or “I have two sisters”. Think before you write. Be creative. Your five amazing facts could be serious or funny, important or trivial or whatever, just as long as they're true. For instance, maybe you've won some sort of award.
Maybe you found a cockroach in a pie you were eating once or, worse still, half a cockroach. (Groans from the class.) Maybe you know or you've met someone famous or maybe you can touch your elbow with your tongue. (Many attempt this. No one succeeds. Bill Kingsley spends the next two weeks dedicated to this quest.) Maybe you have travelled somewhere interesting or maybe you have an unusual talent.' (Quoc Nguyen twists his double-jointed thumb at right angles then bends it back to touch his wrist. Gary Horsham turns his eyelids inside out. Donny Garbolo starts to belch the national anthem. Miss Tarango turns pale and suggests we all start writing.)

Miss Tarango said our answers would help her get to know us more quickly and to learn something about us. I didn't think she would learn much about me from my list, but I'd like to know what she learnt about Barry Bagsley from his. As the lesson had progressed, Barry was returning to his old confident self. Even though Miss Tarango asked us to work quietly, Barry Bagsley was laughing and showing what he had written to his mates.

‘Barry, if you're finished, you can hand that in now.'

He took his sheet to the front, dropped it on Miss Tarango's desk and returned, grinning, to the back of the room. As the rest of the class completed their lists, I watched as Miss Tarango read five amazing facts about Barry Bagsley. She seemed to study the sheet for a lot longer than it would have taken her to read it. No expression crossed her face. Then she laid the paper slowly on the desk and crossed her hands on top of it. She looked as if she was meditating. After a few seconds, Miss Tarango's head lifted, then turned towards Barry Bagsley. It reminded me of a warship locking its guns on to a target.

‘Boys,' she smiled sweetly, ‘if you're finished with your lists, pass them up and we'll just have time before the lunch bell for one more activity that I'm sure you'll all enjoy.'

Folded sheets of paper began to rustle their way forward.

‘Oh, and boys … just one more thing.'

The growing murmur of sound within the room fell away.

‘I'll need a volunteer,' she said, scanning the class eagerly before levelling her sights on the lounging form of Barry Bagsley.

When all the sheets had been collected, Miss Tarango stood up from her desk and moved to the front of the class. ‘Right. Now, for this activity I need someone who is strong-willed and brave, because he will need to meet the challenge of tackling the power of language. Have I got any takers?'

I glanced around the room. A few boys put their hands up. Barry Bagsley and his friends weren't among them. Neither was I. This was definitely a time to be a small target.

‘A few brave souls, but what about the rest of you? Hope I haven't scared you off.' Miss Tarango's eyes swept over the room like searchlights after escaped prisoners. I studied the surface of my desk intently.

‘What about you, Ishmael? You look like you could handle the pressure.'

I shook my head and smiled weakly.

‘He won't do it–he's gutless.'

‘Well, I don't seem to remember seeing you volunteering,
Barry, but perhaps I should explain the task a little more.'

With that Miss Tarango pulled the seat from the teacher's desk and set it up in the centre of the front platform. ‘Whoever volunteers will have to sit on this chair. His task will be to stay on the chair. My task will be to get him off the chair using only the power of language.'

A general discussion boned around the room.

Miss Tarango continued. ‘I am not allowed to order him off, threaten him, hit him, push him, or come in contact with him in any way, but before I walk around the chair three times, I guarantee he will no longer be occupying it.'

Now the class exploded into a rabble of disbelief, accusations and questions.

‘No way, Miss!'

‘She's probably got a pin hidden somewhere.'

‘Can you tie yourself to the chair?'

Miss Tarango closed her eyes and held up her hands. ‘Boys, I've laid down the rules clearly. The time for talk is over. Who's willing to take me on?'

The reply was loud and immediate. ‘I'll do it.'

‘Barry?' Miss Tarango looked concerned. ‘I don't know if this is really your sort of thing. And besides, other boys volunteered before you.'

‘They won't mind.'

Coming from Barry Bagsley, this was more an order than an opinion.

‘Well, let's just check, shall we? Does anyone else want to volunteer? We can draw a name out of a hat.'

Silence. Barry Bagsley, as always, got his way.

Miss Tarango appeared just a little flustered. ‘All right, Barry. I seem to have lost my other volunteers. Come out here, then.'

Barry Bagsley ambled to the front of the room and stood beside the chair.

‘Before you sit down, it's very important that I check a few things just as a precaution. Now, Barry, this is serious-tell me, do you suffer from any condition like a weak heart, high blood pressure or dizzy spells?'

Barry Bagsley rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘Trying to scare me off won't work.'

‘I don't want to scare you off, Barry. I just want to be on the safe side, and I also want you to know that if you don't wish to go through with this, you can return to your seat now and no one will think any less of you.'

We all knew she was bluffing, of course. She was a teacher. She was responsible. She was a girl, for crying out loud. She wouldn't do anything dangerous … would she?

Barry moved to the front of the chair. He looked out over the class, sneered, and sat down defiantly.

‘Right,' said Miss Tarango, her voice suddenly as cold and expressionless as a prison guard's. ‘As I said, I won't speak to you or make contact with you in any way, but before I walk around the chair three times you will be off. You must face the front at all times. If you look behind you, the challenge is lost. Do you accept that?'

Barry Bagsley nodded his head, but with a little less of his former arrogance.

Miss Tarango continued as if she were preparing Barry Bagsley for execution. This was no time for dimples. ‘Now listen carefully, because
this
is the challenge. I will start at this point here,' she said, stepping in front of Barry Bagsley's knees. ‘When I return to this point, that will be one circle and so on. By the time the third circle is completed, if you are still on the chair, you win. If, however, as will most definitely be the case, the third circle is completed, and you and the chair have parted company, then I win. Are you ready to begin?'

‘What prize do I get when I win?'

‘If you win, Barry,' Miss Tarango said happily, ‘you can have the rest of the day off.'

The room bubbled as if someone had just turned the air jets on in a spa. What? She couldn't do that. You can't just let people go home. Only the Principal, Brother Jerome, could do that. Why would she say something ridiculous like that? She's mad … unless, of course, she knew that she couldn't lose …

‘Tell you what, Barry.' Miss Tarango smiled sweetly. ‘I'm feeling generous. If you win, why don't you take the rest of the
week
off?' The spa was switched to turbo. ‘Boys, boys–thank you–quieten down now. What's all the hubbub about? Thank you. Now, Barry, are you ready to rock and roll?'

‘I'm ready,' said Barry Bagsley with a forced smile as his fingers tightened round the arms of the chair.

Miss Tarango surveyed the area around the chair. She frowned and shook her head slightly. A strange silence settled in the room. ‘Can you boys in the front row just move your desks back a little … a bit more … a bit more … That should
be all right, but I usually like more space. We'll just have to hope for the best. Let's get started.'

With that, Miss Tarango walked slowly in a clockwise direction until she was standing behind the chair. There she stopped and looked down at her hands. We couldn't see exactly what she was looking at because Barry Bagsley was in the way. Miss Tarango stood absolutely still for a few seconds before completing the first circle.

‘That's one,' she said flatly.

‘Getting worried now, Miss? You're gonna lose ya bet.'

Miss Tarango continued as if Barry Bagsley hadn't spoken and didn't exist. Her breathing had become noticeably deeper and slower. She moved around behind the chair for a second time. Again she stopped and glanced down towards her hands. Then she completed the second circle.

‘That's two.'

I looked at Barry Bagsley's face. It was set hard, and he gripped the chair as if he were rocketing towards the loop of a roller coaster. There was no way that he would leave that chair. Miss Tarango was doomed to fail. What was she thinking? She glanced nervously at the front row of desks and muttered something about workplace health and safety. The boys there automatically edged further back. She stepped behind Barry Bagsley and began writing on the board.

For a moment only the soft squeaking and tapping of a whiteboard marker filled the room as the entire class peered past Barry Bagsley's head to the words being formed in Miss Tarango's neat even handwriting. Barry Bagsley's eyes danced
and swivelled in their sockets as if at any minute they would spin around like symbols on a poker machine and reappear at the back of his head.

‘Eyes to the front,' Miss Tarango said coolly just as Barry Bagsley's head began to turn slightly behind her back. Miss Tarango finished writing and stepped a little to the side.

We all read what she had written. We all frowned.

Then Miss Tarango stood directly behind Barry Bagsley She had only one half-circle to complete. She looked once again to her hidden hands and then slowly raised her left arm into the air.

Barry Bagsley watched mesmerised while all the eyes in the class moved to a point just above his head. The boys in the front row sat with mouths gaping, like a row of clowns in sideshow alley. Behind Barry Bagsley, Miss Tarango had the cold stare of the Terminator as her fingers closed into a fist.

We knew she was bluffing, of course. But then again … maybe she realised Barry Bagsley had beaten her. Maybe she was desperate now and didn't know what she was doing. Maybe she was a fake. What did we really know about her, anyway? She could be a totally insane lunatic who had escaped from an asylum and was just pretending to be a teacher!

Miss Tarango's fist hovered over Barry Bagsley's head. She took in a deep breath. She seemed to be expanding so that her slight frame towered over the rigid form seated below her. Her eyes drifted up from Barry Bagsley's head to her fist. I held my breath, not knowing if I wanted her to do it or not. Then, when the tension was almost unbearable, Miss Tarango rotated
her wrist, looked at her watch and turned to the class with a radiant double-dimpled smile.

When the end-of-lesson bell blared through the intercom, the whole class was jolted, as if they'd been stuck with electric cattle prods. Some boys gasped out loud. I was one of the gaspers. Bill Kingsley let out a squeal that would have been right at home in
Night of the Living Dead.

Even Barry Bagsley flinched. But he didn't budge from his seat.

Suddenly Miss Tarango was her old self again. ‘Well, boys, we're all out of time, so we'll have to continue this tomorrow. Don't forget your English text for next lesson and your workbooks. Now pack up quickly and …'

But she was drowned out by a howl of objections.

Miss Tarango looked bewildered. ‘What's the problem?'

Barry Bagsley broke in rudely. ‘You haven't finished the last circle. You have to finish the third circle and then I win. You can't pike out now.'

‘But it's lunchtime, Barry. I don't want to hold up the rest of the class. We can do it tomorrow or perhaps another day. Good morning, everyone.'

Barry Bagsley looked astounded. ‘What am I supposed to do?' he whined. ‘Sit here all night?'

Miss Tarango smiled pleasantly. ‘Well, yes, Barry, I suppose you do, because
that
was the challenge you accepted. If you don't believe me, it's right here on the board. You can turn around now and have a look if you want to.'

Barry Bagsley swivelled around but maintained his grip on
the arms of the chair. On the board was what Miss Tarango had written a few minutes ago–
Before I walk around the chair three times you will be off.

‘You see, Barry,
this
is the key word here,' she said, cheerfully underlining the word ‘before' heavily. ‘Now, my part of the deal was to walk around the chair three times. I didn't say how
long
I would take to do that or
when
it would be completed. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow, maybe the next day or the day after that-maybe next year, who knows? And naturally, if you are still on the chair at the time, then you win. I promise you though,
one
day before I die, I will complete that last circle because, as I said, that's
my
part of the deal.' Then Miss Tarango leant in closer to Barry Bagsley and looked him right in the eyes. ‘Now
your
part of the deal is to
stay
on that seat
until
I do.'

A groundswell of realisation rumbled around the class like a Mexican wave. When even Bill Kingsley's face eventually lit up in a rare display of comprehension, Barry Bagsley knew he was beaten.

‘You see how powerful language can be, boys? Even a little word like “before” can hurt you if you don't treat it with respect and listen carefully. Now,
before
we all head off for lunch, let's give Barry here a
big
round of applause for having the courage to volunteer today and help with the demonstration.'

Cheer and jeers mixed with laughter and clapping as everyone spilled noisily from the room. Miss Tarango had won more than just a challenge; she had won over the class-all except for Barry Bagsley, of course. He sat glowering in the
teacher's seat while everyone filed out so that no one would see his unavoidable surrender.

Supplementary Amazing Fact: After just one day I knew she would be the best teacher I ever had.