Hugh's first english lesson

Hugh picked up his books from his carol. For the first english lesson he needed only his file.

It was not far to the English block. The small timid boy walked through the stone archway that lead to the corridoor and then throught the wooden swing doors into the corridoor itself. An acrid smell rose into his nostrils, the smell of the lavatories that were opposite the classroom. The smell of the blue squares of deodorising chemical that sat in the urinals was pungent and yet mixed with the odour of decay and menace that only can exist in the male loos of an institution.

Hugh walked further on the corridoor passing the second set of doors that led to these loos (there was a door at either end of these particular loos) until he located classroom 6 where he was due to have his first lesson.

Inside this room a man was sitting at the front. He was neither tall nor small. He was not fat nor slight. Yet he was striking. The room was silent. Boys who might have been bositerous in other classes sat quietly at their place at the tables.

Most striking was his face and then his posture. His face was pock marked and greasy. A complacent, half mocking smile spread across his features. A smirk might better describe it. Over his eyes were a pair of rectangular glasses. His eyes bulged out from these. From behind his smirk a menacing authority seem to hang in the room. He looked a little like a man who might have been in the Gestapo - "we have ways of making you talk".

In his chair he leaned back, both hands were behind his head with the palms inwards, fingers interlinked. His right leg was crossed over his right but with the shoe close to this left knee. The look in his eye, the language of his body seemed to say, "I know everything, you know nothing, you little worm".

The last boy came into the class. no one was late. The man's reputation preceeded him.

Silence.

The master did not rise from his seat but suddenly his voice rung out with a crystal authority, much more impressive to Hugh than if the man had jumped up and shouted.

"I am Mr. Runner. You will not talk in my class unless I ask you to. You will not eat. You will not drink. You will not whisper. You will not spit. You will not chew. You will not smoke. These are the rules. if you disobey them you will be punished." The last he said with a smile full of threat. No-one spoke. "is that clear?" the question was evidently not to be answered. No one did so. "Good" he said.

"Right, tell me your names."

Then he covered off the admin - with each pupil in turn coming under his questioning. He asked mostly admin questions:

"Name?" -

"Brown, Sir"

"House and Number? Just give the initial of the house"

"B 617, Sir"

"You a scholar?"

"Yes, Sir"

"Which one?"

"4th Scholar, Sir"

"Tutor?..."

"Mr. Lennox, Sir"

And so it continued. When he came to one large heavy featured black haired boy he paused after asking him the usual questions.

"Are you a Yank, Metzig?" he said

"No, Sir," said the large boy in a North American accent, "I am canadian"

"Good. As long as you are not a yank. Can't stand Yanks."

The admin over, Mr Runner turned to the class.

"Clever boys are you, eh?" he began, "well I have a task for you. For next lesson you will write me an essay. I want you to write me an essay on nothing"

Pause. an intake of breath. a nervous boy put up his hand,

"Yes," said Runner fully aware that such a bizarre statement would bring about this reaction.

"Sorry, Sir, I don't understand the title."

But there was to be no mercy. "Nothing," he said. "Write an essay on Nothing."

A second shimmer of disorientation ran through the assembled pupils. Another hand rose, "how long should it be, Sir?"

"How long is a piece of string?" came the rejoinder.

And Mr Runner strode out of the room, the harsh electric bell ringing in the ears of the boys. The same complacent grin was on his face. "I know everything, you know nothing."