Chapter Twenty-Five
While Ella was excited as she and Zack approached Martin Luther King Middle School, Zack yawned and stretched.
“Why aren’t you excited, Zack?”
“I hate starting anew. Only a handful of our friends transferred here, and the teachers, and staff—they won’t know us from noth’n.”
Ella grasped Zack’s arm. “You’ll do well here, just like you do everywhere else.”
At first, Zack liked his class schedule, but for the most part, his classes themselves were boring. Zack had heard good things about the advanced math teacher, Mr. Potter. He remained hopeful.
Potter looked across the class. “Before we get into Riemann’s Prime Number Theory, let’s review prime numbers in general. Potter had filled the blackboard with a series of numbers. As he droned on explaining prime numbers, Zack and a number of other students were nodding off. When Potter looked out over the classroom, he walked up to Zack and shook him. “Am I boring you, Mr. Berg?”
Zack startled and sat upright in his chair. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Perhaps you need to go to bed earlier or see your doctor. In any case, if you can’t pay attention, you’re wasting my time, your time, and the class’ time.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Potter shook his head in disgust. “Perhaps you can go to the board and circle the prime numbers for the class.”
“Thank you, sir. That won’t be necessary. I understand prime numbers perfectly.”
Potter grabbed Zack by the arm, pulled him from the chair, and handed him the chalk. “Perfectly, eh,” he sneered. “I’m not asking you, Berg. I’m telling you. Circle them,” he demanded.
Zack walked slowly to the blackboard, stared at the numbers for ten seconds, and raised the chalk.”
“Not so easy, is it, mister?”
Zack stared at Potter, and then in twelve seconds, circled twenty numbers. He smiled and walked back to his seat.
Potter grabbed a sheet of paper and compared those circled on the blackboard to his notes. He frowned and turned to Zack. “Nice little trick, Berg. See me after school today.”
At 3:15, Zack, with Gabe by his side, walked toward Potter’s room.
“This isn’t necessary, Daddy. I just came out to tell you I’d be a few minutes late.”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary, Zack. Whatever saint genes we have in our family, they all went to you.”
Zack sighed. “But, you’re embarrassing me.”
“Embarrassing my children is part of the job description.”
Potter was sitting at his desk glancing at the door. When Zack entered, Potter stood and pointed at the clock. “I said after school, Berg. Doesn’t time…” he stopped as Gabe followed behind his son.
As Gabe approached, Potter sat back in his chair. “You’re having some sort of problem with my son, Zack, Mr. Potter?”
Potter paled. “No real problem, Mr. Berg. We just need to straighten out a few things.”
“What things?” Gabe asked.
“I’ve reviewed Zack’s records, and they’re remarkable, but that doesn’t excuse Zack from being inattentive in class. We all have something to learn.”
“Does he understand the material?”
“Of course.”
“How’s he doing on your quizzes?” Gabe asked.
“He’s perfect, but this trick with prime numbers…I can’t let him get away with it.”
Zack had his arms crossed in anger. “What trick?”
“Anyone studying that series of numbers could learn the primes. My objective is to have students understand, not recite from rote.”
Gabe stood and pointed his finger at Potter. “Take your calculator and write a series of prime and non-prime numbers on the board. Make them 5 or 6 digits long.”
Potter reddened in anger. “I don’t have time for games, Mr. Berg.”
Gabe walked up to Potter and shoved a piece of chalk into his chest. “Write, dammit.”
Potter’s eyes widened. He sat as his desk and worked his calculator. He stood and wrote ten numbers on the board, and then he sat down.”
Gabe nodded to his son.
Zack went to the board and circled four numbers.
“Want to check them out, Mr. Potter?”
Potter shook his head in defeat.
“Why can’t you get it through your thick head that Zack’s extraordinarily talented? You have a golden opportunity to work with him, and if you screw around with my son, I’ll see that you live to regret it.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Berg?”
“No threats—just a father’s solemn promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ella and Zack walked slowly down the corridor at MLK Middle School to English class. This was the second week and both were unhappy with their teacher, Bernadette Baribeau.
“She’s so into French tradition that she insists that we call her Madame Baribeau.” Ella said. “That sucks.”
“It's more than that,” Zack said. “Dealing with her is a pain in the ass. She has something to prove.”
“You don’t like her.”
“Very perceptive, Ella. No, I don’t, and she doesn’t like the class at all. It's as if she has been putting up with us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“How?” she asked.
“It's obvious that she’s a brilliant woman. Teaching English when it's not your primary language takes some doing. Her speech is so precise that she’s almost a walking dictionary of English and grammar. Kids just don’t speak that way, and frankly, I’m not sure who does.”
Ella faced Zack. “What’s with you and Baribeau? You normally don’t let people like her get to you. She’s a hater. Get over it.”
“Look, Ella, I sense things about her that you can’t know. Precision may be a good idea for a class at this level, and I would applaud it if the woman wasn’t destructive and insensitive.”
Ella and Zack entered a noisy classroom, but when Bernadette followed, all the students sat quickly, placed their clasped hands on the desk, and remained silent. Bernadette placed her worn leather briefcase on her desk and extracted a stack of paper. She held them up, and said, “I can’t believe that some of you have gotten this far and it amazes me that you can speak the lingua franca at all. You certainly have laid out my work for me.”
As she passed the papers to the students, a few smiled, but most gasped with the profusion of red corrections, the C’s, D’s and F’s. Heather, Ella’s friend, stared at her paper and began to cry.
Ella turned to Zack. “She’s dyslexic. We all know that she’s dyslexic. English, especially English with Bernadette is killing her.”
Bernadette pointed to Zack and Ella. “If you have something important to say, why don’t you share it with the class?”
“Sorry,” Ella murmured.
Bernadette returned her attention to Heather. “You better grow up fast, or we’re both going to have a bad semester.”
“I’m sorry,” Heather whispered.
“Sorry won’t help, Heather. You have heard of a dictionary, haven’t you? It's used to look up words for their meaning and their correct spelling.”
Zack’s fists tightened and he felt flushed. He whispered. “What in hell’s wrong with that woman?”
“Don’t Zack,” Ella said. “You’ll only make things worse.”
Bernadette turned abruptly to face Zack and Ella. “What’s the matter with you two? I told you no talking in class.”
Zack stood. “May I have a word with you in private, Ms. Baribeau? I don’t like what’s going on here.”
As Bernadette peered over her desk, she held her fists clenched white. “I know you, Berg. You’re a troublemaker. Sit down and shut up.”
“This is a classroom, not a prison, and I assure you that you don’t work in a vacuum.”
“Mr. Berg. I want you out
of here, now. You know the principal’s office, don’t you?”
Zack walked up to Bernadette’s desk and gazed across at her. “Thank you. I’m happy to share my observations with the principal. You’re not fit to teach here or anywhere else. You’re uncaring, and all you do is destroy. You know, or you should have known know that Heather is dyslexic. Most decent teachers would have tried to help her, but not you—you enjoy inflicting pain. We may be hard up for teachers, but not hard-up enough for the likes of you.”
Bernadette pointed at the door. “That’s enough! Get out,” she shouted.
As she escorted Zack to the door, he turned back for a moment. Many students had both thumbs up, but they lowered them quickly as Bernadette turned back.
Zack sat in the principal’s outer office. He had been on the phone and signaled that Zack should join him in the office.
“Zack,” he paused. “What’s got into you?”
Zack sat in a chair across from the principal’s desk. He took a deep breath, and said, “You have a problem, sir.”
“This better be good, Zack.”
Zack spoke for fifteen minutes while the principal listened carefully. From time to time, he’d shake his head. His forehead furrowed with concern.
“Coming from anyone, but you, Zack, I might just write this off. If I can confirm this with the other students, and especially with parents, I’ll try to make a change.” He paused. “That won’t be easy, you know.”
“Thank you, sir,” Zack said. “You have a good school here. Don’t let one rotten tomato screw things up for everyone.”
Zack and Ella bounded into his home after school. Denise was on the phone. After she hung up, she turned to Zack. “That was the fifth call in the last hour. We may live near Berkeley, but that doesn’t make you a revolutionary.”
“Neither you or Dad would have put up with that teacher.”
“You exaggerate,” Denise said.
Zack started to pull up his shirt. “Want to see my lash marks?”
“Very funny.”
“Trust me, Mother, if Ms. Baribeau could get away with using the lash, she would. She’s everything a teacher shouldn’t be.”
“Well, my young friend, from the phone calls I just received, she may not be around for long,” she paused, “and, you have become a local hero.”
Zack’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
“You did what almost every kid in that class wanted to do—you called out an unfit teacher.”
“Zack was great,” Ella said. “The kids were with him from the start.”
“You’re a shrink, Mother. Why are kids so passive? I don’t get it.”
“Authority figures are powerful in our culture. Religion teaches respect for authority, warranted or not. What you did, Zack, takes courage.”
“Or stupidity. I remember Daddy quoting Leonardo da Vinci: “Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.’”
“Your father is a smart guy. Remember, the older you get, the smarter he’ll seem.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zack peddled up Centennial Drive to the Lawrence Hall of Science. He’d been coming here for a month, two or three days a week. His leg muscles were finally getting used to the climb. He locked his bike in the rack near the striking DNA jungle gym and walked through the front door. The guard waved Zack into the hall.
A sixth grade class from a local elementary school was walking away as Zeru Ibarra had just finished their guided tour.
Zack smiled at her and said, “Aspaldiko.”
“I love it…long time, no see. Where did you find that one?”
“Where else, the Internet. A Basque slang site.”
“Be careful with the Basque phrases you choose…a little knowledge can be dangerous.”
“Basque profanity has a charm to it. Want to hear some?”
“No thanks.”
“Putasemea,” Zack said.
Zeru laughed uncontrollably. “You’re right, that sounds a lot better than son-of-a-bitch.” She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “Do as well with verb conjugations and I’ll be a happy woman.”
They carried on their conversation as much as possible in Basque.
“What do you have for me today?”
“Well, Zack, today you have one of two choices: teaching genetics and evolution or electronic circuitry. Whatever one you pick, I’ll teach the other.”
“I’d love to do genetics, but you’re so much better at it.”
“At this level, Zack, it won’t make any difference.”
“Maybe so, but I remember my days with the Radio Shack Electronics Learning Laboratory…how great and exciting it was. Teaching that and seeing their faces light up…hell, I’m addicted. Okay, I’ll teach electronic circuitry.”
“If it's okay, Adam Conner is going to sit in. Eventually, I want him to teach this material.”
“Adam knows that material backwards and forwards.”
“Maybe so,” Zeru said, but he could sure learn from you about teaching it. You have a rare gift, Zack. Adam can learn from you.”
Zack and Adam entered the electronic lab. Fifteen fifth graders were waiting. He introduced himself and Adam. “We’re going to have fun today.”
Zack gave them a ten minutes speech on serial and parallel circuits, and then sat each student at a lab station with a bare circuit board, and multiple electronic components including transistors, diodes, wire, resisters, capacitors, a variety of LED lights, light emitting diodes, and an analog meter. “We’re going to electrocute the first one to blow a fuse,” Zack said.
As Zack and Adam moved around the room, the kids were grinning and laughing as they finished their simple circuits.”
After the kids left, Adam sat beside Zack. “God, you really have the knack with them. I’ve never seen a group of ten year olds so involved and joyful. I wish I could do that.”
“You can. I know you can.”
“Maybe. Want to bike up to Inspiration Point when we’re done?”
“Sure,” Zack said smiling. “It’ll be downhill all the way back.”
As they stood at Inspiration Point overlooking the East Bay and San Francisco in the distance, Adam said, “It's amazing.”
“Yes, beautiful.”
“No. I’m talking about you Zack. You’ve worked your way into the group. It's as if you were one of us from the start.”
“Yes, I feel it. The class has become family to me. It's weird, but I love it. I’ve noticed,” Zack said, “that you and two other boys leave the Saturday class for three hours. What’s going on?”
“We’re involved in a special program, but I pledged, under penalty of death,” he laughed, “not to say a word. It wouldn’t surprise me, if Jorge puts you into this program as well. You seem right for it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s how I intended it.”
When Zack got home, Denise was preparing for dinner.
“Kaixo.”
“Kaixo, to you, too, Zack. ‘Hello’ is about all I can say in Basque. How were things at the lab today?”
“Zeru had me working with Adam today.”
“You can learn a lot from him. I understand that he’s brilliant.”
“No, you don’t understand. He was monitoring my class for a few pointers about how to teach fifth graders.”
“Zeru must trust you a lot,” Gabe said.”
Zack sat between his parents. “I’ve always wanted to have a brother, but I came to understand that it was not to be. Adam is like that brother to me. I have similar feelings for the rest of the group, but not as strong as I have with Adam…it's visceral…almost as if he really were my brother, my big brother.”
Denise put her arm across Zack’s shoulder. “We’re so glad that this is working out for you. A friend, almost an equal. Both of you are lucky.”
“Egun on izan dezala.”
Denise shook her head. “Egun on izan dezala, to you, too.”
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“Thanks, Mom. I will have a nice day.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Zack entered the classroom at the Denisovan School, he walked up to Adam Conner. They high fived, laughed, and then sat next to each other as Bernardo Alonso entered. All at once, the room was silent.
“Zack,” Bernardo said.
“Yes, sir,” Zack said and he stood.
“As a newcomer you’re way behind in our study of Basque history.”
“I’ve done a lot of reading, sir,” Zack said.
“Revisionist history, I’m afraid.” He placed two thick books on his desk. “Here’s a little light reading for you…the history of the Basque struggle against Spain. Read them with a critical eye, Zack, knowing that these books have a distinctly Basque bias. When you’re ready, we’ll be continuing our discussion of the controversy.”
After class, Zack walked outside with Adam and sat at a bench waiting for Gabe to pick him up. “How long have you been with Dr. Moneo?”
“This is my third year.”
“And?”
“And what?” Adam responded.
When Zack stared into Adam’s eyes, he sensed his resistance. Normally, Zack was good at reading people, but he got little from Adam. “It's a simple question. I’m here. I just want to know what to expect. I might as well hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Nothing’s as simple as it seems, Zack. When I get to know you better, I’ll lay it out for you.”
“Sounds mysterious.”
“That depends on your perspective. Take this one idea to the bank, a school oriented toward gifted Basque children is a response to years of violent oppression of our culture going back to Franco.”
Zack paused. “I know the history of the ETA and the violence that’s lead the world to condemn them as a terrorist group. Some of what I read sickened me.”
“The ETA has disavowed further violence,” Adam said, “but they continue to support Basque liberation. We’ll talk about it more when you’re finished reading a true history of the struggle.”
Hybrid (Brier Hospital Series Book 7) Page 10