by Todd Daley
“Well, these science apparatuses have been around as long as Curtis High School itself,” Tom replied. The St. George school was built around the turn of the century, as the formidable stone gargoyles on its facade indicated.
Barry raised his hand, and Tom got ready for a non sequitur. “When it comes to cereal, Wheaties and Cheerios come in different-size boxes. So how do you compare their prices?”
“That’s an excellent question. What’s the answer?”
Riner, a serious student, raised his hand. “I’d buy the larger box. It’s cheaper because companies save money on packaging.”
“That depends on the item. Sometimes the jumbo size is not cheaper. It’s a scam,” Lora exclaimed.
“You should buy the no-frills brand—they’re always cheaper,” said Marty, who seemed to know a lot about marketing and economics.
“Only cheapos buy no-frills stuff. I buy name brands like Wheaties, Skippy, Franco-American, Chock Full o’ Nuts, and Campbells,” Barry replied, reading the labels of the displayed items.
Marty mumbled something about welfare spendthrifts, and Barry got up from his seat and loomed over Marty, sitting at his desk. “What did you say about welfare? My family works for a living, chump!”
Tom sprang from his spot behind the teacher’s desk and inserted himself between Barry and Marty, the latter of whom remained seated but looked perplexed and intimidated. “Now sit down! Before I send you both to the dean.”
“Good. I’ll kick his ass on the way to the dean’s office,” Barry shouted.
“That’s your only answer to criticism—punching somebody in the face. Grow up already!” Lora yelled, shaking her bracelets and anklets loudly.
Tom wondered why the current crop of kids were so prone to fighting at the smallest provocation. He remembered his own high school days, when fisticuffs were rare occurrences. Of course, he was in the honors “x” class, where arguments were mostly verbal and concerned the merits of rival baseball teams and occasionally entered the political realm. With the backdrop of the raging Vietnam War, Tom’s generation seemed to be focused on peaceful means of settling differences. Notwithstanding teenage passions and rivalries, his classmates seemed to genuinely like one another. With the current racial, ethnic, class, and political differences wracking the country, social cohesion was notably absent in 1970s America.
Glancing at Mrs. Murray’s notes, Tom asked the class about unit price.
“It’s the price per pound,” Wendy answered.
“That’s correct,” Tom said, turning to write the unit price formula on the board: Unit Price = Price/Quantity.
Next, he placed several unit price problems on the blackboard:
Ex 1: Compute the unit price of a 12-ounce can of soda that costs 52 cents.
Ex 2: Compute the unit price of a 16-ounce can of soup costing 77 cents.
Ex 3: Compute the unit price of an 18-pound turkey that costs $11.69.
The class was given a few minutes to work out the solutions, and then Tom had Lora, Barry, and Wendy place the answers on the board:
Ex 1: 4.3 cents/oz
Ex 2: 4.8 cents/oz
Ex 3: $0.65/lb
“So what are you gonna do with those balance scales, weigh Lora?” Manny called out from the back of the room.
“How about weighing your balls? They’re probably weightless,” she responded, jangling her copper bracelets.
“Why don’t you come back here and see for yourself?” Manny responded with a snarl.
At that point, Tom dispatched Manny to the dean, incurring protests from the boys that he favored the girls—especially his pet, Lora. Ignoring the uproar, Tom wrote an algebraic equation on the board: 2X – 13 = 25.
“To solve this equation, we are going to use the principle of the balance scale—whatever you do to one side, you have to do the same thing to the other side.”
Tom demonstrated the principle of algebraic equivalence by adding a pound to one side and then adding the same weight to the other side to restore the balance. He further demonstrated the equivalence principle by removing equal weights from each side of the balance scale.
Lora raised her hand. “Can we weigh my copper bracelets and anklets on your balance scale?”
The skinny science teacher agreed, and the cute coed removed her bracelets and anklets with great ceremony, aware that all the boys’ eyes were riveted on her when she slipped them off her plump legs.
After prancing to the front of the room, she plopped them on the left balance scale while Tom carefully added weights until a balance was achieved.
“Altogether your copper bracelets and anklets come to 2.5 pounds,” Tom announced.
“Wow. That’s a lot of weight to carry around. You’re one strong girl,” Barry commented.
“Getting back to the algebraic equation: 2X - 13 = 25, how do we solve it?”
Riner raised his hand. “First, add 13 to both sides, and then divide by 2. So the answer is 19.”
Tom wrote a second equation on the board: 3X + 11 = 47 and asked the class to solve it.
Wendy raised her hand. “First, subtract 11 from both sides, and then divide by 3. The answer is 12.”
Tom was about to write a third equation on the board, when the bell rang, bringing the contentious lesson on unit price and algebraic equations to a close. As he gathered up his materials, he gave Barry the box of Wheaties, Ronnie the peanut butter, and Lora the two cans of soup.
“What about the soccer ball?” Barry asked.
“I was going to weigh the soccer ball with no air in it and then reweigh it fully inflated. It would weigh more with the air in it because air has weight.”
“Why don’t you show us now?”
Tom weighed the soccer ball empty, filled it with air, and then weighed it again. Sure enough, the air-filled ball weighed half a pound more.
“Way to go, man,” Barry squealed, shaking Tom’s hand.
“You’re the best, Mr. Haley. But I wanted to ask you when your friend Amon is coming to speak at Curtis,” the curly-haired Lora asked.
“Soon, because time is running out.”
“Why is that?” Lora inquired.
“I don’t know. I’m just repeating what Amon himself said to me last week.”
CHAPTER 62
Heartfelt Talk
Tom stood nervously next to Amon on the stage of the Curtis auditorium, looking at the congregation of students talking and fidgeting in their seats. It was a first for the skinny science teacher, who recalled the many times he had shepherded his homeroom class to assembly programs on the environment, science, current events, and the school’s clubs and teams. He remembered the “x” class boys rebellion refusing to attend assembly after their homeroom teacher, Mr. Gento, had excused the girls from that obligation. A stern lecture from his guidance counselor and a letter to his mom were the punishment for that particular transgression.
The school’s burly principal, Lou Stout, spoke briefly about the guest, as if he were an old acquaintance, taking credit for his contributions to the North Shore, as he had done when Tom started the holiday food basket program a few years earlier. Then, he nodded to Tom to “give the introduction for the Mariners Harbor Messiah.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tom began haltingly, startled by the sound of his voice reverberating in the large auditorium.
“Hey, Mr. Haley, why don’t you set off one of your match-head rockets?” Manny yelled from the audience.
“Not today, folks. Where were we? Ah, I first met Amon walking on Richmond Terrace more than two years ago, seeing him connecting some wires from his tugboat to a utility pole. I was stunned to see him fall from the that pole and land on the wooden pier without injuring himself. He is a skilled carpenter, housepainter, plumber, fisherman, stickball player, and faith healer. But the most impressive qualities of my frien
d are his kindness and compassion for the homeless, the poor, the sick, and those afflicted by alcoholism and drug addiction. Please give Amon a warm welcome.”
An extended period of applause and cheering followed, which surprised Tom as Amon looked over his notes, preparing to speak. Indeed, as a result of numerous articles in the Advocate, Amon had become a celebrity—on par with rock stars, baseball players, and movie actors.
“Thank you, everybody, for that warm welcome. Curtis High School was one of the first places I saw on Staten Island. I really admire those sandstone gargoyles on the front of your school, plus the great view of the New York City skyline.”
“Tell them about your rescue of that guy who jumped off the ferryboat,” Lora called out from the front row, rattling her copper bracelets and anklets so that the jangling could be heard throughout the large auditorium.
Smiling sheepishly, Amon proceeded. “Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers. I’m no superhero, no faith healer, no clairvoyant, no avatar, and certainly no messiah. I do live in Mariners Harbor on a tugboat off Richmond Terrace. You’re welcome to stop by and lend a hand. The city has given us another building in Mariners Harbor to fix up for those who have nowhere to live. Never look down on someone who is poor, for truly they are your brothers. Perhaps you can volunteer in your own neighborhoods—help shut-ins, disabled folks, and the needy. Give of yourself, and the rewards will be awesome. I am an ordinary man, faced with formidable tasks, limited resources, and little time left to accomplish these worthwhile goals.
“There is one rule which guides me in my everyday life—the golden rule stated by Jesus himself: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The dos and don’ts of your parents, the laws of our city and state, and our Constitution advise us to treat each other with mutual respect, regardless of our class, color, or creed. And remember, folks, errors of omission are as bad as errors of commission. Your teacher, Mr. Haley, informed me that the foundation of ethics originates with the ancient Roman stoics, like Epictetus. A Roman slave, Epictetus advocated a life of simplicity, sacrifice, austerity, and reason. He said the stoic is happy despite poverty, sickness, imprisonment, or impending death.”
The student audience reacted negatively to Amon’s description of Roman stoicism, causing him to pause. “Of course, this is an ideal picture of the virtuous life. Mr. Haley also mentioned the German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who stated the categorical imperative—a universal ethical principle that applies to all people, in all times, and across all societies. Such moral rules—such as do not lie, steal, or kill—are compelled by the will and by reason.”
“In Jesus’s own words: Blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek, the persecuted, the sick, the hungry, the workers, and the peacemakers. It’s the young people like yourselves, Curtis High School students, who are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. Do not answer violence with violence. If struck on the cheek, turn the other cheek, rather than retaliating with force. Do not be consumed with material wants, to the detriment of spiritual concerns. Judge not, and you won’t be judged. Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and it will be opened to you. In 1960, John Kennedy said we should not ask what America can do for us. Instead, we should ask what we can do for America. Ben Franklin urged us not to waste time, for time is the stuff life is made of. I feel my own time is coming to an end, and I need you—Curtis students—to carry on my work and do good in the world.”
The students burst forth in thunderous applause and cheering as Amon walked off the stage and headed down one of the aisles. Several students, including Lora and Barry, hugged the charismatic young man, whose face was overcome with emotion. There was a mixture of awe, happiness, and sadness in the crowd. And the feeling that Amon wouldn’t be around much longer was palpable to everyone sitting in the Curtis auditorium.
CHAPTER 63
Life Redux
Sitting on Tom’s desk were the following items: a potted geranium plant, a jar with a grasshopper amongst some weeds and crabgrass, a petri dish with bread mold, a log covered with moss, and a piece of coal. On the blackboard was a simple question: “What is life?”
As the skinny teacher’s class entered the room, Barry picked up the jar, examined it closely, and started to unscrew the lid. Taking the jar from his cantankerous student, he said, “We don’t want Jiminy Cricket to get loose.”
“But Jiminy can’t breathe, Mr. Haley. You’re killing the poor bugger!”
“Look at the lid—there are several pinholes in it.”
“Can the air get through those tiny holes?” Ronnie asked nervously.
“Normal atmospheric pressure is about fifteen pounds per square inch—sufficient for air to get in there,” Tom responded.
Showing the class the petri dish mold, the moss-covered log, and the piece of coal, Tom asked which item represented a living organism. Someone from the back of the room said they were all life forms except for the coal, which was a mineral formed from green plants living millions of years ago.
Concurring, Tom repeated his pivotal question: “What is life?”
“Anything that moves, breathes, eats food, and eliminates waste,” answered Riner, who was studious and methodical.
“You mean takes a dump,” Manny called out from the back of the room.
“I hate that expression,” said Lora, shaking her copper bracelets and anklets.
“Should I have said shits and pisses?” Manny snapped.
“You’re very crude. We are in a classroom, sir,” Barry chimed in with his falsetto voice.
Ignoring the irrelevant banter, Tom went to the board and wrote down the five conditions necessary for life. Through a series of questions, answers, and non sequiturs, they arrived at the following facts:
Conditions Necessary for Life
1.Oxygen: Except for anaerobic bacteria, all plants and animals require oxygen to oxidize food.
2.Water: All plants and animals need water. Our body cells are bathed in saltwater solution.
3.Food: Chemical energy is obtained by green plants through photosynthesis. Animals eat plants or other animals for growth and energy.
4.Moderate Temperature: Human beings can stand temperatures ranging from 30 °F to 100 °F.
5.Normal Atmospheric Pressure: Human beings require 14.7 lbs/sq in of air pressure in order to breathe.
Wendy raised her hand. “Why are our body cells bathed in salt water?”
“That fact originates with early life forms, which began in the sea. Human beings are 80 percent water by weight,” Tom answered.
“Stop drinking so much water, and you’ll lose most of your fat,” Barry said, smiling and squinting his eyes at Lora.
Lora held up both of her arms, extending them toward her tormenter, and rattled her copper bracelets.
“Hey, she’s casting an evil spell on me. I know about that stuff—it’s black magic,” Barry screamed in mock terror.
“I’m no gypsy. I don’t do black magic,” the cute curly-haired teenager replied.
“Yes, you are! Only gypsies wear those weird copper trinkets.”
“Fuck off! You’re the one giving off bad vibrations,” Lora exclaimed.
“Good, good—good vibrations. My baby gives good vibrations,” Barry chanted in his patented falsetto voice.
Moving on despite the bickering, Tom asked the class to define “food chain.”
“A food chain shows how food energy is passed from one animal to the next,” Wendy answered. Like most able students, she was able to ignore the many distractions occurring in the classroom and focus on the lesson itself.
“Excellent, Wendy.” Turning to the blackboard, the young science teacher had his students list some examples of food chains:
Man — Pig — Corn — Nitrates
Bear — Fox — Rabbit — Carrot
; Lion — Giraffe — Tree Leaves
Hawk — Frog — Grasshopper — Grass
Shark — Trout — Snail — Algae
“What is a food web?” Tom inquired.
Again, Wendy raised her hand. “A food web is interconnecting food chains.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to say it’s a network of food chains?” Barry interjected.
“Both definitions are correct. And ecology is the study of the interactions of plants and animals in their food chains and food networks,” Tom replied.
“You always favor the girls, Mr. Haley,” Barry complained.
“Girls are smarter than boys—that’s clear,” Tom snapped as the bell rang, ending the lesson on the conditions necessary for life.
Tom recalled that he had given a similar lesson early in the school year—something that had eluded his students. He understood that repetition was a necessity in teaching and in everyday life.
Helping Tom gather his materials together, Lora asked if he really felt that girls were smarter than boys.
“Absolutely. My mom is the smartest person I know.”
“Do you think we’ll ever have a woman president?” she asked.
“Sure. It’s only a matter of time,” Tom asserted.
Smiling, Lora left the room, her copper bracelets and anklets jingling and making good vibrations all the way down the hall.
As Tom walked wearily along Curtis’s dark third-floor hallway, he bumped into his old friend Tony Tumali.
“You’re looking gloomy today. Are the kids getting to you?”
“Sometimes they can be a pain the ass,” the skinny science teacher replied.
“I give pop quizzes when things get out of hand,” Tony offered.
Just then, Dick Grimsby hobbled by. Tom was dismayed that the congenial colleague was back to wearing his steel leg brace. Were Amon’s healing powers on the wane?
“Maybe you should have them recite the Common Prayer before each class: Lord, forgive me for not doing what I should have done, and for doing what I shouldn’t have done,” Dick replied.