Chapter 17: Strange Utterances

It's not just that she used the Grandi's series, along with paradoxes regarding functions Euler treated in the eighteenth century. What troubled me the most is that she used negatives. I didn't teach negatives. I had been struggling for a month to make them grasp the concept of natural numbers and here, in front of me, I had a ten year old who was manipulating the concept of 'infinities' with a robustness that would make the entire Department of Physics at Courant shit their pants.

'What's wrong, teacher?', I heard mini-wrestler ask.

'Nothing is wrong. That's the thing. It's right.'

'So what do we write as true on our papers? That 'n' thing or minus...one on top of twelve?

'Both. We write them both.'

I stood there for a while and let the raindrops hitting the windows do the talking, while I contemplated how to proceed further.

When the bell rang, I asked Melinda if she could remember what she had said yesterday in church. It seemed like a long shot, given she'd forgotten everything by the time the sermon finished, but, to my surprise, I saw her open her mouth in a more exacerbated way than usual, and let out what I could only make out as 'Saaah'. She elongated the vowel and finished with a glottal 'H', making the sound appear Arabic.

'How do you spell that?'

She took out the blue fountain pen on her desk and wrote down 'SAH' on the piece of paper in front of her.

'What is Sah, Melinda?'

'The Three Kings.'

'The Three kings?'

'Yes, you know. Father Mitchell asked what the name of The Three Kings were. And I told him but he didn't listen. Why ask a question then, if you don't wait for the answer?

I spent the rest of the morning in the teachers' lounge, trying to gather as much information I could about this. I googled 'Sah' and the 'Three Kings' but that led nowhere. 'Sah and The Bible', 'Arabic Sah', and 'Conspiracy Sah Jesus' were other fruitless attempts. A part of me was admonishing myself for how ridiculous I was to spend hours googling the fabrications of a ten-year old, but, then again, this is a ten year old who solved advanced mathematical equations and appeared to be able to mimic the Arabic accent to perfection.

I wished I had asked the History teacher what the meaning behind Sah was. I was in a school, after all. But that would have been a tall order for Mr Gamboccini, who apparently wanted a return favor for any petty question asked of him. That included questions asked by students, parents and teachers alike. Principal Bale once said he wouldn't hand in his half-term report for the parent-teacher meeting when asked to do it slightly ahead of time. His reply was: 'Yeah, but what's in it for me?' I seriously doubt he would have known the answer anyway.

I texted Audrey to let her know about this morning's developments. Bad news. Her father was still feeling ill and said she was going stay by his side for the day.

'Is there anything I can do?', I texted back.

'Maybe we'll see each other later. I'll update you during the day.

'I could come in an hour or so.' Actually, this would have been a stretch. I was supposed to do my share of 'community service' for the school, which involved sorting second-rate books donated to the school through the Salvation Army. Mr Gamboccini's catch phrase was 'What's in it for me?' When I asked Principal Bale whether we could ask charities for used books and stationary, her answer was: 'That's a very good idea. Maybe you could be in charge of that'. And that is her catch phrase for anyone suggesting improvements to the system.

'Take your time. The doctor is gonna drop by soon. And he won't allow anyone but family, anyway.

'Let's stay in touch, then.'

I wanted to tell her about Melinda, but thought this would be better suited for a face-to-face. The whole thing was nagging me, and I realized the nagging would only be amplified until my next class with the girl. When the school year started I had been given a portfolio with all the details about my students: age, address, allergies, behavioral problems and so forth. I had chucked it somewhere deep in my rucksack and, messy as I am, feared I had either lost it or left it at home. But it was there, folded at the back of a "Collection of Maths Problems for Middle School" I had been carrying all this time and hadn't used once. Melinda Hoakes. There was a phone number. My excitement was cut short by a strong slap on the back that made my whole frame push forward and snap out of my mind with a jolt.

'How are you adjusting to life in school, Sarpaulis?'

I turned to be greeted by the aquiline nose and pirate-like smirk of Jeremy Crath. Jeremy Crath, science teacher. By that, I mean he explains natural phenomena to ten year olds. He looks more like a stalker or killer than a teacher, and I heard he had once duct-taped the mouth of a boy and made him stand in a corner because he was too noisy in class.

Maybe he wasn't the best person to confide in with what Melinda had done in class, or maybe I was too pumped up and needed to tell someone about it, but there he was, asking how things were, so I found myself describing everything to him, with the enthusiasm of a kid spoiling a movie he liked to his best mates. Crath listened with a firm gaze that made his wrinkles and facial features appear edgier than usual, and then, when I'd finished the story, he waved his hand and dismissed it with ease.

'I wouldn't read too much into this. Kids watch TV or read things on the internet and steal information all the time. I have students who copy entire pages off Wikipedia. You ask them "what is rain?" or "how are tsunamis formed?" and they come with some smart-ass answer they nicked off the internet or had been told by their smart-ass dads. Once they open their mouths in class, I can read the shit they're spewing out only too well. They can't string two words together, let alone pronounce some of the words they "borrow" off the internet.'

True. Only that Melinda seemed poised and articulate. Maybe he was right though. All she did could have easily been taken off the internet. I asked her about it and maybe she lied. When you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how unlikely it is, is the truth.

'And the Arabic pronunciation?' I went on to ask.

"What? That "Sah"? I can do the same. Look: Saaahhh!' and I could hear the gurgle and smell the digested coffee he'd ingurgitated this morning 'See? Easy!'

Only that it didn't sound like a cartoon python when she'd done it. It'd sounded natural coming from her.

'Don't lose any sleep about it! Listen to me! These raccoons are getting smarter by the day and it's our job to keep them on a leash. You need to keep a tight reign on them.', and poor Jeremy wanted so bad to play in a gangster movie. Only that here in school, he had no opposition for his wrath. Most of my kids may be disinterested, but they're hardly vocal or disruptive.