By M. Grubshtein

As a second grade pupil, I was living in the world of imagination, regarding life as the continuation of the beautiful things I read in fairy tales. One early morning of a summer day I was walking to school and was amazed to notice that I did not meet any other pupils on the streets.

My house was quite a distance from school and while walking I used to ponder over the questions occupying my mind. This time I chose to ponder over “who is the happiest person on earth?” My conclusion was: “the teacher”. My arguments for this conclusion were: nobody forces the teacher to go to school. If he wishes, some other teacher will substitute for him while he stays at home. If I, for example, ever want to stay at home and play with the black dog, nobody can substitute for me. My parents will force me to go to school after scolding me.

Also, teachers come to school only to teach, but do not have to prepare homework. What do they need homework for? It is easier to teach than to learn. I experienced being a teacher when my little brother did not understand something in his book and asked me to explain. I repeated my explanation twice. When again he did not understand, I shouted feigning anger, hit the table with my fist like my Hebrew teacher - tall and lean wearing dark rimmed glasses. When my “pupil” did not get smarter, I took out my notebook and in a very formal tone announced that he has just “one more second” and he should be sorry and even cry… My bother looked at me in astonishment, burst out laughing, ran away and did not want to listen any longer.

I kept thinking: When I grow up, I will be a teacher. The teacher’s rule is boundless. When he enters the classroom, all stand up. He signs and all sit down. He orders and everybody writes, he talks and all have to listen.

I cannot understand the Hebrew teacher in particular. Who tells him when somebody is whispering, or when one of us does not know his lesson. Very interestingly, he calls on me at such times and I am the one caught… His glance hovers over the whole class and I think he skips my face, and then suddenly he calls out my name…

Here my thoughts were interrupted because I noticed that I have reached the school building. Before going up the steps, I say to myself – almost aloud – in future I will be another kind of teacher and treat the pupils calmly and kindly, without anger.

How queer, it is so quiet here today. This is the first time in my life that I am the first one to arrive in school. I pass through all the rooms and they are empty. I sit down next to the teacher’s desk. I always like to sit there during recess and contemplate the rows of desks, yearning to see pupils sitting at these desks. I tried it once after the ringing of the bell but I was caught by the principal and the teacher reproached me. Now, sitting there I feel both pleasure and fear. I smell the branches of the acacia trees close to the windows and listen to the happy chirping of birds and. I am overwhelmed and drowsy. I feel my head dropping down and my eyes close.

… what is it? the classroom is full. All pupils look at me. I know all of them and none is absent. Who sit there at my usual place, After a while I recognize him as my Hebrew teacher. He wears the school uniform, his face is a boy’s face but his eyes are the same with the penetrating and shrewd. He does not have his black rimmed glasses. At that moment I feel the heaviness of glasses on my nose. Now I am sure that I am the teacher. Now everybody is standing up. They are they standing until I sign to them to sit down. I make the sign with my hand the same as he always does. They sit down. I decide to ask: “How does rain form?” At the desk, back of the class, I see two pupil. One half raises his hand as if he knows the answer. I see his eyes begging me not to call his name. The other sits quietly, does not raise his hand but his eyes express confidence.

At that moment the mystery was solved as to how he teacher knows whom to ask. I look at the “teacher” sitting at my desk, and see him smiling but he avoids meeting my eyes. I ask the first pupil to answer. He does not know it and the boy behind him tries to whisper to him. I pretend that I don’t see it. I look at the window. However, the moment I look him again, he repeats his whisper. The matter becomes very clear: he wants me to think that he knows the answer but he does not.

I start lecturing . the subjet matter is very clear to me but I cannot concentrate since every movement of a pupil confuses me. One pupil looks for something under his chair. I reprimand him and then I forget where I stopped my lecture. So I start from the beginning. A moment later two children at the first desk chat disregarding me. I would gladly let them speak but the humming of their chat disturbs me and I cannot compose my thougts. Again I start from the beginning. Now I feel that I am about to become angry. I look at “teacher” and now his smile is turned into loud laughter of jeer. My eyes fill with tears and start my lecture for the third time. Now the whole class is laughing and the “teacher” is watching me. I cannot take it any longer. I shout: ”You are to blame, You are responsible for all this”.

At that moment I woke up and saw children standing around me , laughing. They asked me: “who is to blame?” Why, “How come you don’t know?”, I wondered, regaining my composure. Suddenly the bell rang and the teacher with the black-rimmed glasses entered the classroom…

M. Grubshtein, 7 ^th grade