His classroom always smells of freshly brewed coffee.

His classroom always smells of freshly brewed coffee. He keeps the lights off, brushstrokes of an unfinished Tintoretto.   There is the sexual montage festooned across the back of the wall with beautiful humans, scantily clad, forming pissed off and pensive expressions with their lips. He sits on his desk as we go over vocab. Occasionally his legs rattle as if he has ingested to much caffeine, as if he is kicking  the petal to a kick drum. Every Friday during the perfunctory vocab test he plays music. The first two weeks it is classical. He plays Mozart and Bach’s Brandenburg’s concerto. He plays jazz, talking with fondness about Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. He plays new age. He plays excerpts from Madame Butterfly and Aida.  He lays Pavarotti's singing Nesum Dorma., elucidating that Italian stating that the song is about a dude in love with a Princess, stating that if he fails to answer three riddles he will not only not get laid but he will also meet death.
  Later in the semester he plays Andrew Lloyd Weber. He says that every human who has the opportunity should see Phantom of the Opera.  It should be a priority.

 

He makes jokes that are Pg -13. He talks about nurse Nancy downstairs giving out crackers and jests that crackers can be used for contraceptives and pretends to place a saltine wafer between the caps of knees. He laughs uncontrollably. He has a high-pitched laugh which is contagious. He is into critical thinking and word puzzles.   He has two seniors who look like they can be J. Crew models sit in the class, reading the Journal Star, clipping out articles. He  writes reference letters to past valedictorians applying to MIT and West Point. He hosts a Bridge club after school, stating that it is an intellectually stimulating game.  He expects greatness of his top students. He has season tickets to the symphony. 

When he teaches Romeo & Juliet instead of biting his thumb in the first scene he lifts his middle finger and flips off the class, stating that this is what Sampson is signaling when he bites his thumb.

He uses curse words as acronyms to remember stuff ins debate. He uses the word SHITS as an acronym  meaning Subject History Integrity Truth Significance.

When he teaches Chaucer he notes in the wife of Bath how Medieval women with gap teeth were pretty good at giving a mean Blowjob.  

I sit next to Patrick still reeking of nicotine. We break for lunch. I tell Patrick if it were not for Coach Mann and Larry Reents I have no clue how I would survive mornings.

Atlunch I can’t stop talking about Angelina Lighthouse.
 

Patrick says that he remembers her from second grade when he was at Whittier.

“She’s always been a little hottie. She always used to have her mom French braid her hair and one time I got in trouble because I said that her French braid looked like a whip and I asked her where her chains were baby.”

“How old were you?”

“Patrick shrugs and says I dunno. Maybe nine.

“How did you learn about ess-en-em at such a young age?” I inquire.

 

“Cable,” He says, shrugging his neck from shoulder blade to opposite shoulder blade like a teeter-totter. While tithing a toothy grin.

 Later at lunch that day three people who I don’t even know come over to Patrick addressing him as PAM.

 His lunch tray is shaking seismically.

 

I grapple his wrist in an effort to assuage him. In attempt to get him to calm down.