The cardinal sin, strange as it may seem in an institution of learning, is talking. There are others, of… — Bel Kaufman
The cardinal sin, strange as it may seem in an institution of learning, is talking. There are others, of course — sins, I mean, and I seem to have committed a good number. Yesterday I was playing my record of Gielgud reading Shakespeare. I had brought my own phonograph to school (no one could find the Requisition Forms for "Audio-Visual Aids" — that's the name for the school record player) and I had succeeded, I thought, in establishing a mood. I mean, I got them to be quiet, when — enter Admiral Ass, in full regalia, epaulettes quivering with indignation. He snapped his fingers for me to stop the phonograph, waited for the turntable to stop turning, and pronounced:
"There will be a series of three bells rung three times indicating Emergency Shelter Drill. Playing records does not encourage the orderly evacuation of the class."
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More from this book
A teacher is frequently the only adult in the pupil's environment who treats him with respect.
My words never reached him; I could almost hear them drop, one by one, like so many pebbles against a closed window.
How can I take seriously such mimeographed absurdities as "Lateness due to absence," "High under-achiever," and "Polio consent slips"?
—SylDear Syl,
I'll match yours any day with "Please disregard the following."
—Bea
