Soul Mates (8 page)

On test day, students were allowed to use their notes on the unit exam, although they could only use what they could fit on both sides of an index card. Mr. Colabza would walk around the room during the test and make check marks on the student’s pages of notes that they took in class that week (or more), for what purpose, the students didn’t really know, although they suspected it was just to see how they utilized their forty minutes in his classroom each day.

Many veteran teachers would scoff at the idea of allowing students to make a cheat-sheet for a unit exam, and perhaps there was some validity to their disinclination, but there was a gray area, and it was this: It had been proven time and time again that students who took the time to draw up a cheat-sheet for the unit exam had reported that they almost 
never
 needed to refer to it during the test. How? Why? Reinforcement is the answer.

“We give homework to reinforce what the students had hopefully learned in class,” Jim would debate with his colleagues who adored him. “So, essentially, what they are doing when they draw up cheat-sheets is reinforcing the information, whether they realize it or not. They’re seeing the information and processing it another time since they took the notes in class, and it is penetrating their subconscious.” Jim could tell that some of his colleagues would never see it his way, and he was more than fine with that, but he could also see that some of them believed that he was really onto something. He went on to explain, “So, it reinforces the information for students who learn by repetition, but it also assists the students who learn visually. I’ve been using this method of teaching for over twenty years, and every year, without fail, I have students who are 
visual 
learners tell me that this method also works for them and they 
also
 seldom look at their cheat-sheet because when they are crafting them, they can actually recall where on the card they wrote certain facts. They can see it clearly in their heads. I’ve heard this testimony from literally hundreds of students with a wide spectrum of ability.”

Jim Colabza went on to explain other theories about how making a funny gesture or putting on a silly voice when delivering information to a student would help them remember that point in time during the test and recall exactly what was said. “Hey, you hear kids quoting movie lines all the time, don’t you? Why not school material, as long as it’s delivered in an unforgettable or notable manner?” he explained to his colleagues. Now, even some of the colleagues who were right with him step by step when he was explaining his previous teaching methods weren’t quite grasping 
this
 particular method. Jim Colabza was a thinker, man. He had the long hair and love of beatnik rock and roll and Volkswagen Beetles to prove it too. Far out, man.

If you recall, Tyler was worried back in seventh grade about not having reviewed his notes while on the bus on the way to school. That was because Tyler was the type of student who prided himself on doing good and honest work. Even though the cheat-sheets were permitted by his instructor, Tyler couldn’t get over the fact that they were called cheat-sheets. He was the type of boy who would never use the cheat codes for his new video games that he would find online, or hold his place in his timeworn Choose-Your-Own-Adventure books that his father had found for him at a garage sale last summer to make sure there was a positive outcome before he committed. Cheat-sheet: It sounded so dirty, so impure, so tainted, so unfair, that he would rather do poorly on the exam, having not studied enough, than succeed with such a filthy tool. Some would call that foolish and stubborn. Perhaps, but on some level, it is also to be commended. 

The loquacious point being, Tyler was well liked by Mr. Colabza and he was concerned. Not only were his grades slipping a bit, but when Jim Colabza would be in team meetings with his other teachers, which were held every Tuesday and Thursday during period three, they had some unpleasant things to report.

“He’s turned into a little Bastard, Jim,” Bud Kreig had told Jim Colabza one Tuesday as Bud funneled peanuts through his fist into his mouth.

“He really has, hasn’t he? I thought he was just having a bad day or two, but he really 
is
 turning into a little shit,” Linda O’Callahan, Tyler’s science teacher confirmed. 

Of course, Jim Colabza defended Tyler, but he was starting to witness this atypical behavior himself, and felt that perhaps a little talk like in the old days was in order. That would have to wait until his 7th period Participation in Government class; the one that Tyler and Lilith shared together. It was true that Lilith was two years older than Tyler, but she had flunked PIG the previous year so that she would be able to take it with Tyler, her new pet. This was made especially evident when she refused to attend summer school to make up the class.

For the entire class, Tyler had his chin resting in his hand, which was supported by his elbow, which was resting languidly on his desk. His gaze was affixed not on Mr. Colabza or even the blackboard behind him, but across the room, where Lilith was sitting, lightly tonguing her pen while she looked intently at the notes on the blackboard. Her seat had been moved months earlier when Mr. Colabza decided that he had a little too much competition for Tyler’s attention. As is evident, it did not help. Lilith was aware of Tyler’s gaze though, yes she was. Whose benefit do you think the pen-licking and sucking was for? Tyler thought about Lilit
h–
these periods of thought were affectionately referred to by both Tyler and Lilith as his “reflecting time
”–
but what was the change with that? He had been silently obsessing about her for the last five years…ever since the Sure-Fire air gun was taken from him that day. He never asked for it back, to his parent’s befuddlement an
d–
let’s face i
t–
utter relief, and he considered it forgotten. So, they junked it. Maybe Herman the Hobo rescued it from the trash.

If Lilith had charmed him to come over to her in the middle of class with a sly and seductive crook of her finger, hell, in the middle of the Pledge of Allegiance, Tyler would have gotten up from his desk so fast and without forethought, that the desk would have followed the rest of him and raise into the air with his knees as he fell on his face in front of the whole class (although, if it was during the Pledge, he’d already be standing, but his zeal would still manage to trip him up somehow.) Yes, he would do it, but not only would thy will be done, it would be done 
gratefully
. That was the worrisome part. He thought about that tongue and not only what she had already done to him with it, but what she had yet to do to him with it. He thought about th
e
–

“Tyler!” boomed from the front of the class room.

“Hmm?” His head whipped around like the quintessential overnight security guard who was caught dozing by his supervisor.

Mr. Colabza was 
disappointed
.  “See me after class Tyler.” This lead to the typical sophomoric jeer from the rest of the class, save for Lilith: The cacophonous blend of “ooooo’s,” as if to say, “You’re in troublllllllllle!” That sound is irritating to anyone and Jim Colabza was no exception.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Colabza thundered. The students shut their mouths at once, for if Mr. Colabza was yelling, they know that they surely screwed the pooch...and royally. Jim Colabza used his roars like a gunslinger uses his bullets…that is to say, sparingly. While each cartridge of lead that is slung packs the same punch, no matter how many are fired, when a man who almost never yells finally lets one fly, you 
know
 you’ve transgressed that fine line in the sand. 

Just in time to break the deafening silence, the bell rang and the period was over. There was a little extra giddy-up in the steps of Mr. Colabza’s seventh period PIG students this day. Instead of lingering a bit and having a quick friendly word with their teacher as usual, they were out the door in a flash; well, except for Tyler…and Lilith. 

“Lilith, you can go to your next class, I only need to speak with Tyler,” he said.

“No, I think I’ll wait for Tyler,” Lilith countered.

“
No
, Lilith; what I need to speak with him about is between him and I. If he wants to share with you later, that’s up to him. Now please go to your next class.” She gave her teacher a glare and then did as he requested…well, sort of. She left the room, yes, but instead of moving along to her physics class, she stood against the wall right outside of the class room door so she could eavesdrop. Mr. Colabza followed her as far as the door and closed it after her, realizing what she was 
probably
 doing, but choosing to pick his battles. He knew Tyler would be no match for Lilith’s interrogation as to what she had missed earlier anyway. So, he moved on and got down to business with Tyler. 

“Ty,” his teacher began. Tyler just looked back at his teacher, who at this point in his life he had known for five years. “Ty, remember the only other time I asked you to stay after class? Back in seventh grade?” 

Tyler nodded. 

As he asked this, Jim Colabza thought back to the memory of the barely-teen version of Tyler, the seventh grade Tyler, sitting in the same area of the class room which he had always chosen (near the windows) in his casual, but neat outfit that his mother would lay out for him the night before. In the instant it took for Tyler to nod at him in acknowledgment, he compared the overall look of the Tyler who was before him five years earlier to this one, and didn’t like what he saw. It wasn’t that Tyler was dressed like a dirt-bag or even dressed ratty; he wasn’t. Tyler had shed his baby-fat and was now a very handsome young man with surprisingly blemish-free skin. Instead of Tyler and Lilith looking like a comical mismatch, they now looked like they 
belonged
 together. 
That
 is what frightened Mr. Colabza the most, in the end. There was something odd about Lilith, anyone could see that, but it was a feeling much darker than simple oddity or eccentricity; but what did he know? Teens could be, and often were “little shits” for the duration of their teens, and sometimes longer. Perhaps he was overreacting. 

“What’s going on with you? I remember last time we had this talk, you told me that you were having trouble concentrating. You used to be an “A” and “B” student, but since our talk, you’ve been a “B” and “C” student.

“How do you know 
that
?” Tyler asked with a pinch of agitation. 

“Because, believe it or not, your teachers care about you, just like we do the rest of the students. We get together and try to decide how to better teach you material, but we also clue each other in on any issues we may be having with our students so that we can help.”

Tyler just stared blankly at his teacher and counted the seconds until he would be reunited with his girlfriend.

*   *   *

 
            
 
Ray and Cindy had noticed the drop in Tyler’s grades as well. They also noticed that this dip in his GPA had taken place right around the time he had been seeing more of Lilith. They noticed the grades drop, then go back to normal, and then drop again. Furthermore, Cindy had noticed that this was right around “the day the Superman poster came down,” as she referred to it. Cindy cleaned the house on her days off while Ray was at work and while Tyler was at school, like many part-time homemakers do. When she went into Tyler’s room to dust, vacuum, and straighten up a bit, she noticed the Superman poster, a gift from one of the leaders at his church’s youth-group, crumpled in his wastebasket next to his desk. When she first noticed this, she thought it was cute; that here little boy was growing up. She discussed this with Ray when he came home from work, who, while he thought there was nothing wrong with a boy Tyler’s age admiring Superman, was also more than willing to see it go. 

“Our boy’s growing up. That’s all,” Ray comforted, along with a wink, confirming his wife’s suspicion. 

Ray and Cindy had discussed Tyler’s infatuation for Lilith, dismissing it as nothing more than classic school-house puppy-love, like the song says. As far as the grades declining, of course they were concerned, but just when the apprehensions reached their proverbial flash-point, his grades would improve…with eerie timeliness. 

As the years passed and high school graduation crept closer and closer, Tyler had mentioned his desire to apply to take civil service exams in order to become a police officer…the words that 
no
 parent ever wants to hear, solely out of trepidation. Perhaps, according to parents, it was even worse than hearing that their child wants to join the military. After all, the military is only dangerous during times of war; and while anything could change at any time, the country was currently enjoying a period of peace and prosperity under President Patrelco, an Independent (moderately Republican) from Arizona. 

Truth be told, Tyler’s parents had hoped that he would become some type of scientist or a teacher; an academic.

Ray and Cindy agreed that growing up, Tyler took enough licks from his peers and that while they would remind their son that it was important to work up to his potential, they would cut him some slack. Many would agree that this is not an area in which a parent should concede and give a degree of latitude, but parents pick and choose their battles like anyone else and live with the consequences of those choices.