THE ENFORCER - Final segment (Scroll down for earlier segments)

     One of Miss Hatchet’s hobbies was hovering.  She was always looking over your shoulder to see how your work was coming along.   This is probably why she was always telling me to sit up in my seat.  I would sit so low, trying to avoid her, she couldn’t find my shoulders.  She would just stop and stare at the small mass in my chair.   “Is that you, Mr. Maberry?” 

     “Yes, Miss Hatchet.”

     “Well, you need to sit up, so I can look over your shoulder.”

     “Yes, Miss Hatchet.”

     Between her iron hand and hovering, she was an overpowering presence.  At night, I would dream of her hovering over me, holding dripping, wet math papers that she had rescued from the irrigation ditch, where they had gone on a joy ride.  “Mr. Maberry, look what I found, with your name on them.”  I would bolt upright, with my heart in my mouth.  “I’m sorry Miss Hatchet!  They must have slipped out of my notebook when I was walking by the ditch.  Next time I will keep them under lock and key.”  Then I would awaken, to the terrible taste of heart in my mouth, realizing it was just a horrible nightmare.     

     “Is your work done, Mr. Maberry?”   I don’t know why Miss Hatchet asked me such a silly question.  Mine was always a work in progress…kind of like your tax dollars at work.   She expected me to have my schoolwork completed by the end of the day.  The problem was our differing views on the definition of “the end of the day”.  Miss Hatchet’s “end of day” was the school dismissal bell.  Mine was anytime beyond bedtime.  Her day didn’t allow me enough time to complete my work.  My day would have allowed enough time if I would have remembered it before the next morning.
 

      To strengthen my memory skills, Miss Hatchet would keep me after school, and use me for sport with math problems.  “Try this one…try that one…here’s a nice problem"…and on it went.  After several sessions, I became restless and decided it was time for a break, as in daring escape.  I waited until she walked the school bus kids out to their bus.  As soon as she went out the back door, I shot out the front door, completely ignoring the possibility of finding my picture tacked to a utility pole, with a sizeable bounty on my head.  I ran like the wind for home.  Actually, I think I passed the wind along the way.  Arriving home, I ran inside and quickly slammed the door, making sure to push the couch in front of it, in case the Enforcer tried to break it down.  All of a sudden she appeared, like an apparition, hovering at the door, motioning for me to come out.  I closed my eyes, and then opened them again, to see if the apparition was real.  It was.  I figured I might as well save the door, and walk out under my own power. 

     Getting into her car, I told her Mom wouldn’t want me riding around town with a young girl. (I was hoping flattery would save my life.)  “I’m sure your mom won’t mind you riding to school with an old lady,” said Miss Hatchet.  “Now, let’s get back and finish those math problems that are patiently waiting to be solved.”

     I questioned whether I could survive this overpowering presence until the end of the year.  To your good fortune, I survived.

     After a year with Miss Hatchet, summer never looked sweeter.  Skies were bluer, the birds chirped louder, the days were longer, there were no assignments to complete, and my wandering mind had rejoined me for a summer of fun.  It was a wonderful time to be alive.

     Years later, when I became a teacher, and my students had wandering minds and difficulty completing assignments, my time in The Enforcer’s class had prepared me for it.  I just hope kids didn’t hear the scratching inside the wall in the cloakroom.

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