No Bounds
My last entry reminded me of a minor act of educational disobedience I committed my sophomore year in high school. I thought I was so incredibly smart at the time.
The required reading for that year’s Honors English class included John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. The main lessons were carpe diem (of course) and non-conformity. After finishing the novel, our teacher asked us to write an essay on conformity/non-conformity. Being obnoxious, while believing I was clever, I opted to skip the essay and write a poem instead. My reasoning? What could be more non-conformist than intentionally ignoring the teacher’s instructions while still giving him what he wanted? Two pages, typed, double-spaced.
I handed in the paper with consummate smugness. If I passed, cool. If I failed, my cynicism toward the ability of a haughty-public-school English teacher trying to teach non-conformity would be overly justified.
Mr. Bounds posted our grades on a list hanging in the class room. Our grades were tied to our student ID numbers and not our names, but in Honors English we all knew who was who. And there I had it – a big fat glaring red F next to my number. I was pissed yet soaring. Aha! This sealed everything I tried to prove by writing a poem instead of an essay in the first place. However, there was an asterisk next to my F. At the bottom of the grades list, I saw the asterisk had an instruction to ‘See Me’ to discuss my grade.
Great. Now I’d have to try and defend what I thought was so obvious to this dinosaur of an English instructor.
Face to face with Mr. Bounds, his scary intense blue eyes and waxy bald head were distracting beyond imagination. He did not waste any time with me and asked me straight up why I wrote a poem instead of following his instructions. I asked him if he really didn’t see how what I did was glaringly obvious. His scary face broke into an even scarier smile, which was an attempt to be friendly. Of course he saw what I was up to. He then advised me that I was not going to receive an F, but rather an A. He then pulled out his grade book and showed me in person, my big red A. He then told me that this was between him and me and that if I told any one he would change it to a real F. He didn’t want copycatters, would have ruined the fun for both of us.
I guess it’s OK I tell you beachcombers this now. I don’t think Mr. Bounds can retract my A at this point. I honestly don’t even know if the man is still alive. I really didn’t like him much sophomore year, but aging can be so fine in so many ways. I relish what I did and I relish even more that Mr. Bounds ‘got it.’ Cheers to you, Mr. Bounds, wherever you are.