“Don’t know. Just is.”
“Don’t give average answers,” Mr. Vernon said. “You’re better than that. I can tell. Try to be articulate. You can do it. You’re smarter than you think. All of you are. Trust me.”
Danielle squinted at him.
“Is it safe to assume that everyone found the idea of a pop test on the first day of class unpleasant?”
We all began glancing around the room.
“Don’t be such sheep!” he yelled. “Think for yourself. That’s the problem. Consensus kills art and intellectual progress! I could see it in your eyes. You were all terrified by the word test. Just four little letters. Ridiculous. But let me ask you this question: Have you ever taken one of my tests before? No, you haven’t. So how would you know what that experience entails, let alone if you would like it? Why did you all think it was going to be a bad experience?”
James Hallaran called out without raising his hand. “We assumed it would be a bad experience because all of the tests we’ve been taking since kindergarten have sucked—emphatically.”
Mr. Vernon smiled and nodded. “I like your use of the word emphatically. Yes, I do. But if you are going to use sexual metaphors in my class, Mr. Hallaran, please be more original. Also, raise your hand when you want to speak, okay?”
James nodded back, and I noticed that he too was smiling. I could tell he liked Mr. Vernon, and it was then—right at that very moment—that I began to realize we all were going to like him. That he was in complete control, and he had tricked us. James Hallaran was the first to figure it out. Maybe I was the second.
Mr. Vernon slowly waved his index finger over the class. “You limit yourself with a bad attitude. Those of you who are lazy will blame the system. You’ve been conditioned to retch at the word test, no matter what the actual testing may involve. But it’s a choice too. You don’t really want to be Pavlov’s dog, do you? And that’s the point of today. When was the last time you got to make paper airplanes in class and then throw those airplanes out the window?”
He looked around at us, but no one raised a hand.
We were on unfamiliar ground, and while most of us were smiling at this point, we were still reluctant to speak before we knew what sort of game was being played here.
“How many of you wrote scathing reviews of your plane and its flight? Even worse—how many of you envisioned your planes crashing and burning before you even gave them a test flight?”
He seemed to be searching all of our eyes at once, scanning us for lies.
“You gotta believe once in a while, kids. That’s what I’m trying to tell you here. The world will try to crush that belief out of you. It will try its damnedest. ‘If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.’ Does anyone know who wrote that?”
I raised my hand before I could stop myself. “Ernest Hemingway. It’s from A Farewell to Arms. We read it sophomore year.”
“Very good. And do you believe that the world wants to break you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is your senior year, Ms. Kane. Next year you will be squarely in the real world. It’s important for you to understand these things. Imperative.”
“What things?”
“The cost of being strong.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You will,” he said, looking directly into my eyes. “You will, Ms. Kane. I promise. You all will,” he said to the class. “And I know before I even begin that many of you will be consensus people. Herd members who will cower at the word test. People who look around the room before speaking or doing anything. But you can free yourself. There’s still time, kids. To be free. To tell Pavlov that you are not a dog. Do you want to be free? Do you?”
Mr. Vernon paused too long—it made all of us feel uncomfortable. You could hear the red second hand ticking on the standard school clock hanging next to the American flag.
“You all scored one hundred on your tests today. Every one of you starts the year with one hundred percent. And I’m a man of my word. That’s twenty-five percent of your grade already perfect. No homework tonight either. And no boring average predictable syllabus outlining what we may or may not do. Instead I offer you adventure. Who knows what lies around the curve for us? I promise you one thing only—it won’t be boring.”
The bell rang, but no one made a move for the door.
“When your head hits the pillow tonight, when you close your eyes, just before you drift off into your dreams, I want you to ask yourself these two questions, and answer honestly: Doesn’t Mr. Vernon give the best tests? And if day one was so interesting, what the hell will the rest of the school year be like? What was that word you used earlier, Mr. Hallaran? Assume? Makes an ass out of u and me, is the old cliché. Check your assumptions at the door tomorrow before you enter my domain. Ms. Kane, see me after class. The rest of you are dismissed!”
I swallowed hard and remained seated as the rest of my classmates filed out.
Mr. Vernon walked over toward me slowly, and then, with the fingertips of his right hand resting on my desk, he said, “Are you a fan of Greek drama?”