Conrad and the Ink Well (Cont.)
Screen 3 of 4What to do at a time like this? This question had to be answered immediately. I had been taught that good teachers never get angry. Especially must they never deal angrily with children, my college professor had emphasized.
And yet in the heat of this situation my anger made me forget those cautions, and before I realized it I had reached across the aisle and soundly slapped Conrad on the side of the head. Instinctively, I had not hit his ear. I must have remembered unconsciously what I had read about the possibility of serious damage from a blow to a child's ear.
The slap--right or wrong--had been decisive. No doubt about that. Everyone in the room had distinctly heard it. Most saw it, I suppose. The resulting silence was awesome. Every child seemed to be frozen in his seat, either in astonishment or fear. Not knowing what to do in this unexpected situation, I somehow blurted out, "Time for recess; everyone is excused!" I didn't even think to tell Conrad he was not to leave. So he made a quick exit, along with all the other pupils. His older brother, Carl, was the last to leave, hesitating at the door as though he wanted to say something. But he only glowered at me silently and sulked away, closing the door behind him with more than the necessary push.
**************** After recess, one of the sixth graders told me Conrad had gone home.
"Well, perhaps he should go home," I replied, "if he can't behave properly here at school."
"But he said he wuz goin' to bring his pappy back here to see you," a fifth-grade boy smilingly said to me, as though he might be looking forward with pleasure to what Mr. Binford might do when he came.
"That's all right," I ventured somewhat more weakly. "I hope Conrad's father does come. I would like to meet him and tell him what Conrad has done." I was trying to appear calm and confident, but I felt sure my words were not hiding my concern and apprehension. And I became aware of how really serious the situation was becoming when another pupil announced with wide stretched eyes, "But, Mr. Travelstead, you probably don't know who Mr. Binford is. He's a famous bootlegger, and he's done shot three men he didn' like. One uv 'em died and the other two moved to North Carolina."
All the children could see this news worried me. One of them told me later my face was as white as chalk.
But again I tried to put up a strong front, even though my heart must have been beating at an alarming rate.
"Let's don't worry about that now," I heard some voice saying in the distance, not realizing for the moment it was my own voice. Collecting myself quickly, I repeated that I would talk with Mr. Binford if he came and then said almost as if nothing had happened, "And now we'll have the fifth-grade geography lesson."
With this we followed our usual schedule through the lunch period and into the early afternoon.
At about two o'clock when we were in the midst of the "current events" period with the fifth and sixth grades combined, a young girl from the principal's office appeared at the door,. apologized briefly for interrupting, and then announced so all could hear that "there is a man out front who wants to see you." She was looking directly at me as she delivered this last part of the message.
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