by W. Arthur
Raymond Cutter, looking resplendent in his new khaki chinos and navy blue blazer, smiled broadly as he ascended the wide concrete steps leading up to Benjamin Harrison High School. In fact, it wasn't until he had actually cleared the massive bronze and glass door and began to smell the old, musty wood and linoleum inside that the memories of his misspent adolescence finally emerged.
Ten years ago he had hated this school and everything in it. But now he was back, tiptoeing through the cavernous hallways in search of the classroom he would occupy for the next nine months as the new tenth grade English teacher. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of seemingly directionless walking, he found his new home - room 264, an old, undecorated classroom at the end of a short hall on the second floor of the gigantic turn of the century school building.
Carefully, Raymond turned the knob on the wood and glass door, and reluctantly it creaked open. Inside, he found a near disaster. Everywhere desks were turned over; torn textbooks were piled high in a dusty corner and the chalkboard was hanging by one bolt. The young teacher smiled in spite of his chagrin over the condition of the room. "I see this place hasn't changed much," he said to himself.
He set down his new leather attaché case on one corner of the massive desk in the front of the room and began to pick up the chair desks. While he was so occupied, another man appeared in the doorway. The newcomer was middle aged and balding. "You must be the new guy," he greeted cheerily. "Welcome to Benjamin Harrison."
Raymond turned quickly, somewhat startled by the sudden intrusion. Immediately, he recognized the newcomer as George Ames, the veteran eleventh and twelfth grade history teacher. He finished aligning the first row of chair desks and walked over to greet his caller. "Thank you, Mr. Ames," he said, grasping the hand that was extended out for him. "It feels good to be back here."
George Ames stepped back and studied the new teacher. "Did you go to school here?" he asked finally.
Raymond smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir, ten years ago."
The veteran teacher still looked puzzled as he struggled to remember the face. "Were you ever in my classes?"
Raymond returned the nod. "Yes. Eleventh grade... American history."
"I thought I remembered most of my former students, especially the smart, ambitious ones," he said. "But you just don't look familiar."
The new teacher chuckled a little. "Well, I wasn't so smart and ambitious back in the eleventh grade," he rejoined. "And I didn't look much like I do now."
Ames continued to scan his former student. "Okay, son, you got me," he declared, throwing up his wrinkled hands. "What's your name?"
"Raymond Cutter," Cutter replied.
George took another step back. "Raymond Cutter. Raymond Cutter..." he sputtered. "Yes, I do remember you... as something of a troublemaker."
"I would say that I was a big troublemaker, sir," Raymond returned. "I was pretty messed up in high school."
"So what happened?" George asked. "I mean, you seem to have straightened up quite nicely. How did you end up back here at BH?"
Raymond thought for a moment. "Well, after you guys let me graduate, I bummed around for about a year, experimenting with drugs and flirting with disaster. I probably would have ended up doing hard time if my uncle hadn't picked me up off the streets and driven me to the army recruiting station. The army turned out to be the perfect solution to my problems, and I spent four years learning skills and discipline that I wished I'd had when I was a teenager. When I was discharged, I went to the community college for three years and decided that I wanted to be a teacher, so I went on and even got my masters degree. I wanted to come to Benjamin Harrison. I think part of me felt I needed to atone for all the problems I caused, and part of me wanted to show you guys that I got it together and made something of myself."
George clapped his hands with delight. "Well, glory be to God," he exclaimed. "Welcome back, Mr. Cutter. If you need any help with anything, I will be in 242."
Cutter smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Ames," he said, shaking the older man's hand again.
"It's okay to call me George, Cutter," Ames declared just before disappearing into the corridor outside.
The new teacher spent the rest of the morning cleaning, straightening, and organizing his new classroom. Thus, by afternoon, he was relatively pleased with his progress as the room now looked nearly ready for occupation, at least by the battle hardened students that attended this urban high school.
By day's end, he had met a few more of his fellow teachers, including three that, like George Ames, expressed great satisfaction in seeing him turn his life around. The last teacher he encountered, Sheila Payne, reminded him that he needed to stop by the library and discuss his book and magazine needs with the librarian. Raymond thanked Sheila for this reminder then asked, "The librarian isn't still Freda Waterman, is it?"
Sheila, a five year veteran of Benjamin Harrison, looked at her colleague with surprise. "Well, yes," she replied. "Is that a problem?"
Raymond managed a small, hopeful smile. "Only if she remembers me," he replied.
Sheila shook her head. "I don't understand."
Cutter's smile widened. "It's a long story. Let's just say that I didn't make a favorable impression on the librarian when I was a student here ten years ago."
Sheila shook her head again. "Well, good luck," she said.
"Thanks," Cutter replied. "Is she still here?"
Sheila nodded. "Yes, I don't think Miss Waterman ever leaves."
"Well, I might as well get this over with," he said.
Thirty minutes later, just before five o'clock, Raymond Cutter, the rookie English teacher, closed up his newly renovated classroom and began a slow walk through the now deserted halls toward the library. As he walked, he tried to remember exactly what he had done to the librarian that made him so afraid to face her now. But he couldn't remember. He had done so many stupid and hurtful things to so many people during his colorful four year high school career that they all just ran together in his mind. He wished that he could take them all back, but he knew he couldn't.
Still, as he neared the library door, he found himself hoping that Miss Waterman either wouldn't remember him or would, like all the other veteran teachers, be pleased with the way he was today.
The Benjamin Harrison High School library was a massive maze of long desks and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and magazines. In one corner was the traditional counter, and perched on a high stool behind it was the imposing frame of Freda Waterman, the venerable librarian. Raymond studied her from the safety of the door and realized at a glance that she looked exactly as he remembered. In fact, her appearance was so stereotypical he mused that her picture could be next to librarian in any dictionary.
Suddenly very nervous, Raymond squared his shoulders and tried to approach the counter with a confidence he had abandoned at the door. As he neared, Miss Waterman peered over the top of her reading glasses.
"May I help you?" she asked in a tone that was somewhere between curious and impatient.
Raymond cleared his throat in response to the question. "Yes," he began. "I'm the new tenth grade English teacher. I was told I needed to see you about my reading list."
"What's your name?" the librarian asked, scanning the young teacher.
This was the question he had been dreading. "Ray...Raymond Cutter," he replied, avoiding her piercing eyes.
Miss Waterman consulted a notebook on the counter. "Okay, Mr. Cutter, the list for your classes should be in this notebook," she said. She started to thumb through the notebook, then suddenly stopped and looked at her visitor again. "Raymond Cutter. Ray Cutter. I remember you -you used to be a student here, didn't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied nervously.
She continued to study him, seeming to remember the name but not the face. "It was about ten or eleven years ago, wasn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You didn't look like this in high school, did you?" the old librarian queried.
"No," he answered, again trying to avoid her gaze. "I had longer hair then."
Suddenly, the old librarian's eyes lit up with recognition. "Of course," she exclaimed. "Ray Cutter. You were responsible for a lot of aggravation, weren't you?"
Raymond shuddered a little. "Yes, I guess I was, unfortunately," he said.
Miss Waterman scowled at the new teacher. "Yes, I seem to recall that you had a particular dislike for librarians."
Raymond sighed. "Miss Waterman, I did a lot of stupid things when I was a student here. I was pretty messed up back then. Whatever I did that was particularly offensive to you, I honestly don't remember, but I apologize for it."
The librarian scanned him again. "Yes, I can see that you've made some progress," she said. "However, unfortunately I'm not so quick to forgive or forget. Come with me to my office. I want to show you something."
Mildly alarmed, Raymond took a step back away from the counter. "Look, Miss Waterman, I already apologized for whatever I did," he sputtered. "Now, it's pretty late and I still have a lot to do to get ready for classes..."
Miss Waterman climbed down off her stool and deftly maneuvered her heavy body out from behind the counter. She wasn't so much fat as she was tall and stocky. A smooth, square face, framed by short iron gray hair completed the picture. In an instant, she gripped Raymond's hand tightly. "I assure you that this will be instructive for you and beneficial for me. Besides, it isn't every day that I get a chance to confront a student who caused me so much aggravation. And you, Mr. Cutter, are a legend."
Then, without waiting for the astounded English teacher to reply, she urged him into a small office behind the counter. Once inside, she closed the door and picked up the phone. "Jane?" she said excitedly into the receiver. "You'll never believe who I have here in my office... Ray Cutter. That's right, that Ray Cutter... didn't you have some things you wanted to say to him?... I thought so. Well, this is your chance." She replaced the phone in its cradle and turned back to Raymond. "Jane Malinowski will be joining us."
Raymond, now extremely nervous, made a show of looking at his watch. "Look, Miss Waterman, I really am quite busy," he said, trying to sound confident and impatient, but not quite making it. "What did you want to show me?"
Miss Waterman flashed an evil smile, then turned and opened a file cabinet behind her. She extracted a wrinkled piece of paper and held it out to the new teacher. He took it and studied it; an instant later, his face flushed a deep crimson. The paper was a Xerox copy of a photograph of two naked older women kissing. In bold print, one of the women was labeled Miss Waterman, while the other was labeled Miss Malinowski. Below the photograph, in the same bold print, was written, Jane and Freda: two old bitches that define lesbianism.
Suddenly, the memory of it came rushing back to him in a torrent. He remembered that both the librarian and the choral music teacher had given him detention during the last week of his senior year. This action made him hunger for revenge. Thus, capitalizing on the rumors of the two veteran staff members being lesbian, he had found the photograph in a porn magazine, copied it, labeled the images, and wrote the inscription.
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