NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER
March, 2008
RUSKIN, NY
It was a Tuesday in March a week or so before the spring break, and I had just gotten out of a tough evening Study Hall. For those of you who aren't familiar with the concept, Study Hall is basically a big room filled with desks, chairs, and up to a hundred young men who don't particularly want to be there. You need to keep them in their seats and quiet enough so that those who really can be persuaded to study will get their homework done.
I'd had a battle with an unpopular senior, a rich Texan who usually didn't mess with the veteran faculty, reserving his scorn for the rookies and underclassmen. He was also one of my English students, which was just as strange. Kids don't often confront the guy whose pen is over their name in the grade book.