A Clover’s Luck - by **-=NaT=-** - CH 1
Chapter 1
The classroom was filling up. Allyson took her seat next to Shannon and said “Hey. How are ya? “, but in French. It was a French school. A French Public High School. It sounded as “Salut! Sa va?”. They normally conversed in English, but being in a French school, certain things quickly became automatic.
- “Nothing really. Did you do the homework? I had a late night yesterday; there was a nice movie on TV. One of those scary ones, you know, about Freddy Krueger. It still scares me, you know, but not nearly as much as before. I used to be really frightened when his claw popped out from the chair. You know, it’s quite a bad situation, if you find yourself driving in the middle of the night and a claw rips through your car seat. And it was a guy too, so imagine how that would look after he is done. But this time it looked so fake!
Anyhow, what was the homework?”
- “He said to do problem 3 and 7 in chapter 2. They were pretty long, but I hate not having it ready in his class. You should seriously focus, Shannon, math is important. You should be glad you made it into math 436, with your French and all!”
- “But you know I will do fine!!! I am natural with this math-stuff! I just don’t like studying at home! “
Allyson handed Shannon her homework. She was looking it over when Mr. Tambot walked in. Mr. Tambot was quite strict about students who come unprepared for class. He would collect homework whenever he felt like it and he would ask questions at random. An hour and a half class felt like forever, even though he was a pretty good teacher. When Allyson looks back at it now, she realizes he was a good teacher. Back then, she perceived him more as a demanding, tough teacher. The kind that is fascinated by intelligence, but greatly annoyed by ignorance.
Shannon launched a square piece of paper with a message. She said they should cut class and go downtown. It was Moral Education and Phys. Ed. after lunch, so nothing would be really lost. Allyson thought that it was risky, if her mom found out, but she also felt like those classes didn’t bring much in her life.
Moral Education teacher, Mr. Katoumba, was an odd African man. He talked with a heavy accent and always had red eyes. Sometimes he would put on his glasses, but most often you would have to look straight into his bloody shut eyes. He had a problem with one of his feet, so he limped when he walked. It almost looked like he was dancing; so much his hip was moving when he walked. The students had Moral Education notebooks, where they would have to fill blanks, write sentences or circle things. There was nothing moral about what was happening to the education system, especially considering people paid taxes to fund those things. Allyson still liked to listen to the teacher slowly inquiring amongst the students for the right answers. They, most often than not, had the right answers. If someone read the book and filled them out, copying someone’s answers was a piece of cake! She still thought she might learn something, a few new words, a few new concepts. Still by the end of the class, the feeling of a time wasted would come up to the surface. She was glad to know the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, but without proper context, it was just memorized words compiled into a pyramid. The teacher of a subject should be excited about his subject; he should be the embodiment of that subject. Merely regurgitating well compiled information on the subject is just not enough. Maybe it is enough to some, but Allyson couldn’t get into it if the teacher did not have the passion. Maybe that is why she never skipped those math classes. Mr. Tambot talked about mathematics as something fascinating, as something that is the basis of most of the world we know, as something that has to be understood. It is not a choice, even though you might think it is. Surely you can survive without understanding limits, but your comprehension of the world would be limited. Mathematics is a whole language in itself, it is a universal language. It is an unbiased language. You can’t express everything in it, but what you express has no race, no colour, no gender.
Physical Education was no better. In some ways it was worse. The teacher, Mr. Abrazi, certainly did care for the fitness of the students. In fact, she has never had a crazier Phys. Ed. teacher before. All of a sudden, starting the fourth year of Secondary, this freak took over a bunch of smoking, overweight or out-of-shape kids. He would make them run laps, some wouldn’t make it. But he would run in the head of the pack. He was way passed fifty, but he would run with the best guys in the class. He would tease the students too, about how out of shape they were. His exams would consist of numerical measures. That is when Allyson liked mathematics less. It was easy for some kids to do thirty push-ups, but not for everyone. And worse of all, there was no effort to make it fun. It was competitive spirit in the air all the time. You would see the same six-seven people shine in all the games the teacher would select – soccer, basketball, volleyball, and even tennis. Many argue that it shouldn’t be fun. That in High Schools you should learn how to be the best, that education is key and you should learn who determines it too. That you are there to work and not to amuse yourself. But how is it possible to keep any love for education when it is force-fed to you in packages pre-approved by people who can no longer remember their first ten birthdays. It was impossible for girls to try to stop a ball kicked by the competitive Joe. Some Joes try to go for the girl’s face, just for the heck of it. Not to say that girls shouldn’t play sports, not at all, but having such unequal forces and promoting the law of the jungle tends to bring the worst in people. When girls and guys would play separately, it would go smoother. But then Mr. Abrazi never spent nearly as much time helping the girls learn, as he did with the guys.
The prospect of a moral lecture and being pushed around by guys and girls didn’t sound all that good to Allyson right now, so she nodded to Shannon.
Mr. Tambot glanced at the two:
- “Shannon, would you mind telling me what you did in problem 3?”
- “Ugh… Yeah… That’s the one with the 90 degree triangle?”
Few crackled, few whispered.
- “Yes, Shannon, that’s the one. The short side is 40 cm and the hypotenuse is 100 cm, how do we calculate the other side?”
She gave Allyson a terrified glimpse, unable to see the answers from that far.
- “Would you mind coming to the desk, Shannon?”
Shannon picked up the book and walked towards the board, trying to find Chapter 2, problem 3 as fast as possible. The class was silent, most felt for their classmate, but did not want to be the ones up there either. She started by writing out the facts and drawing the triangle. This was still a recap class, there was still a chance she could pull it off. She knew it had something to do with sinuses and cosinuses. Then the panic came. Even if she figures it out, she can’t start punching in the numbers in the calculator without the teacher knowing. If she would have done it, she would have the numbers. She turned to the teacher.
- “Sit down Shannon. I wonder, why the rest of you are so quite?... I want you all to give me your homework. If you arrive to the class unprepared – I have nothing to teach you!”
The class started bubbling, the panic has spread. Mr. Tambot was certainly living up to his reputation. It was just the third class of the semester and he was already trying to curtail shirking. About sixty percent had their work done. Shannon felt less excluded all of a sudden, even though she received many nasty glimpses from those who were caught because of her. Mr. Tambot said he will do these problems next class after everyone has tried it. That the material will be used to build on this year’s material, therefore everyone needs to know it. He was really tough, but caring too.
He started to talk about theorems and everyone started writing.
It was lunch break after, and they met in their usual spot. Caroline and Arina also came. They had a different schedule, but we had French and English classes together. Allyson, Caroline and Arina were all from the same Foyer 402. 402 meant not quite number one, really, almost made it. Foyers were rated by knowledge of French, so it was not surprising. Shannon’s French was quite crappy, so she ended up in Foyer 405.
- “Wanna cut class? Go downtown?” – said Sharron.
- “You are going, Allya?” – Arina asked Allyson. Arina called Allyson the Russian way, Allya.
- “Yeah, we have Phys. Ed and Moral after, and it’s Friday, best day to do it!”
- “I’m gonna come” – said Caroline. She was always up for some adventure. Caroline was normally the one suggesting it, indeed. She was a problematic teen, but something bonded these four girls. Somehow Allyson felt that, maybe if Caroline hanged out with them more often she would stay out of trouble.
- “I need to go get lunch” – Arina said. “I am on coupons. Only have two bucks too, so I think I’m gonna pass…”
Allyson remembered the times when she used to be on coupons. Sounds like you are poor and can’t afford it, but in reality it is worse when you are off coupons. Mom didn’t have the money nowadays, so she would give 2.60$, exactly enough to cover the meal at the school cafeteria. Those meals were awful, but, especially in winter, one does not have much choice. But now that Allyson was working in a restaurant, she had plenty of money from working there on the weekends. Not like she had in summer, but still enough to afford a life.
- “Come, I’ll give you 10$” – said Allyson.
- “I think I better stay. I want to go out on the weekends and I only got a twenty.”
- “Suit yourself!” – barked Shannon.
- “Look what I have got!” – said Caroline. She unrolled her sleeve and caught a joint in her hand.
They haven’t smoked since last spring together, and even then they only tried a few times. It was always so fun, but they could hardly remember what they were laughing about in the beginning. Allyson smiled. They decided to go further from the school to smoke. Arina also came; she didn’t want to leave just yet. They found a back alley private enough for that sort of thing and sparked the joint. Giggling and laughing they smoked the thing split four ways, hurrying each other not to let it burn.
Next thing she remembered, they were in the bus 66 going downtown. The early autumn sun was beaming through the windows. The recycled French bus was shaking as it climbed Mount Royal, the girls were installed comfortably in an almost empty back. The sunlight was falling on their faces and they all felt like this is the life that is worth living for.
They got off at Guy and walked to the pizza joint. It was cheap and pretty crappy pizza, but it was the best thing you can eat on a three dollar budget. Allyson had money for something more substantial, but she didn’t know how the rest were doing on money, so she didn’t offer. The thing is money would come and go to each and you could never guess who was in trouble, until they were forced to tell you. Teens are like that.
[ Continued in the next post ]
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