The Secret Life of Ms. Finkleman by Ben H. Winters Read Free Book Online Page A

to be called on.
    The voice in Ms. Finkleman’s head returned, with new urgency.
Run,
it said.
Run like the wind!
    “Yes, Todd?” she said.
    “I just wanna make sure I’m getting what’s going on with the words, here,” Todd said, squinting at the sheet music open in his lap. “It’s all about how this guy is really into this girl, and they’re hanging out and stuff? ”
    “Yes, that’s correct.”
    “But then at this end part it goes, ‘Thou wouldst not love me.’ Meaning, what? Like, she’s not into it. Right?”
    “Why, yes, Todd. That’s correct,” said Ms. Finkleman again.
    “Oh, man. It’s so … emo.”
    When Todd said that little word,
emo,
there was a response from the students. It was a slight response, nearly imperceptible, but Ms. Finkleman felt it distinctly.Twenty-four children leaning slightly forward in their seats, twenty-four pairs of eyes widening just the slightest bit. Ms. Finkleman had the sudden uncomfortable sensation of being examined like a piece of meat in a case. She regarded Todd carefully for a moment before answering.
    “Emo?” she said finally. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term.”
    “You’re not? ” Todd looked momentarily mystified, but then he smiled.
    “Ohhhhhh. Sure you’re not, Ms. Finkleman,” Todd said with a devilish hyena’s grin.
“Sure
you’re not.”
    Then—it just got stranger and stranger—he
winked
at her.
    The voice in Ms. Finkleman’s head came back, fervently entreating her:
Go! Flee! Seek cover!
In her mind’s eye, an agouti zipped under a bush and hid, trembling, from a pair of circling hawks.
    But Ms. Finkleman just tapped her baton three times on her music stand and signaled the class to begin.
    By the time the children got to the end of the first refrain of “Greensleeves,” Ms. Finkleman was astonished all over again. Because they were doing something they never did, a behavior even more unusual than payingattention: They were
trying.
    “I have been ready at your hand,” they sang. “To grant whatever you would crave.”
    They sat with their hands folded on laps, peering closely at their music, singing full voiced and energetically.
    “I have both wagered life and land, your love and good will for to have.”
    As her class plowed forward, the wariness that had possessed Ms. Finkleman since the beginning of the period began to melt away. She half closed her eyes and waved her baton gently, immersing herself in the familiar pleasure of “Greensleeves” and its enchanting, centuries-old melody.
    The children sang. “Ah, Greensleeves now farewell, adieu! To God I pray to prosper thee!”
    When they got to the end of the song, Ms. Finkleman tapped her baton, gave a few small corrections, and took them back to the beginning.
    And so sixth period progressed, and soon Ms. Finkleman forgot about the little voice and about the agouti hiding beneath the bush. It no longer mattered to her what dreadful surprise lay in wait. It didn’t matter if all this respectful attention was an elaborate setup and at the end of the period she would face a fusillade ofspitballs or a bucket of crickets dumped on her head. It was all worth it. This experience, this moment, this classroom full of enthusiastic children doing their best and respecting the music, was worth whatever price she might have to pay.
    The kids practiced “Greensleeves” again, and then again, and it got better and better, just like a piece of music is
supposed
to when you practice it. The Schwartz sisters, in the center of the alto section, hit their harmonies. With a little help from Kevin McKelvey at the piano, plunking out the notes when needed, Victor Glebe sang his solo (almost) perfectly. Natasha Belinsky figured out how to sing in rounds, a skill that had long eluded her. Braxton Lashey did not fall out of his chair—not even once. Even those students who were usually good, like Bethesda Fielding and Pamela Preston, were downright
great
today.
    “For I am