"FOURTEEN" PART TWO: VOULEZ-VOUS?

VOULEZ-VOUS?

Richard F. Seldin was as formidable as Craig’s parents. He was tall, had a slight build and wore fashionable glasses that matched with his equally fashionable, yet not self-conscious or garish, hairstyle which recalled Sting during his tenure in The Police. Born and raised in Kentucky, he spoke with the heaviest of Southern accents but when he spoke a foreign language, one could easily take him for a native of whichever land the language originated. He spoke French, Spanish, German, Italian and Russian fluently and flawlessly. Tales about his teaching and practices were legendary throughout the Lab School hallways, with most students praying they would never have him as a teacher but expounding praise and graciousness at their good fortune by year’s end.

Craig’s introduction to Mr. Richard F. Seldin was an auspicious one the previous year in seventh grade. Craig was sitting in the stairwell between classes, eyes gazing over his Biology text book (his weakest subject much to the chagrin of his parents, once Chemistry majors), listening to Genesis’ “Duke” album on his headphones. In a flash, his (usually) ever-present baseball cap was swiped from his scalp by Terrence Bateman, a classmate who found such annoyances the highest of comedy. Terrence, after grabbing the cap from behind, leapt several steps to the ground, bolted around the stairwell down the hallway with Craig soon on foot. Despite Craig’s girth, his anger fueled his feet as he neared closer and closer to Terrence when as sudden and clipped as several gunshots, the boys heard the words, “YOU TWO! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!” It didn’t matter that the hallway was now fairly full with students leaving one period on their way to the next. Craig and Terrence knew exactly to whom the “YOU TWO” was directed. They both stopped on their obligatory dimes, and slowly turned to see the source of the command. Somewhat unsurprised, it was Mr. Richard F. Seldin, standing in the doorway of the Foreign Language office, with a laser-beam stare which pulled the boys to him like the Death Star Tractor Beam. 

“Just what in the hell do the two of you think you were doing?” Mr. Seldin asked incredulously. “Were the two of you raised in a barn? You must’ve been seeing as how you were running like freshly decapitated chickens! What in the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea where you are?” Mr. Seldin continued rapidly. Craig wondered if this man ever asked questions he intended for anyone to answer. “You better form your lips to say something to me when I ask you a question!” said Mr. Seldin, answering Craig’s thought.  Craig and Terrence began to open their mouths from whence only hoarse guttural sounds became audible. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll all be the worst, most poorly formed and executed commode of crap I’ve ever heard in my days,” ended Mr. Seldin. 

“Well, let me tell you something,” began Mr. Seldin again. “I detest statements that are poorly formed and executed. I despise bullshit. It is intolerable. So what you will do for me, in order to redeem yourselves, is to write for me a one-page essay about what it means to be a responsible student at the Lab Schools. I want it tomorrow. I want it typed. I have more than enough to do than sit around and attempt to decipher your decapitated chicken scratch. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” answered Craig and Terrence feebly.

“I want it the second you place a toe into this building tomorrow morning. And if you’re not here,” he warned, “I will find you. Now go!” And with that, Mr. Seldin vanished into his office as Craig and Terrence stood motionless as if they had been slapped so severely they ended up paralyzed.

That evening, Craig promptly wrote two drafts of his paper, typed it and when he found a spelling error, he destroyed his copy and re-typed it, fearing that White-Out would look sloppy. If his parents taught him anything, it was to present himself as an intelligent, well-prepared, professional student. If Mr. Seldin initially taught him anything, it was that fear is one hell of a motivator.

The next morning, after Thelonious Hughes dropped his son off to school, Craig raced immediately to the Foreign Language office, being so careful as not to run in the hallways. His hopes of Mr. Seldin perhaps being ill for the morning, having car trouble, or just having forgotten about the incident were squashed when he heard, “So where’s your sidekick?”

“I…I…I just got here, Mr. Seldin,” Craig stammered. “I came right here. I haven’t even seen anybody yet.”

“Fine. Do you have something for me?”

Craig pulled from his backpack his essay, encased in a clear, plastic folder. While trying to see if Mr. Seldin was visibly impressed with the presentation, he was dismissed with a curt, “Thank you”.

Later that afternoon, as Craig was switching books in his locker, he heard that same sudden, clipped voice again. This time, in his ear. “Well thought. Well executed. Well written. Good job. Don’t make me come after you again.” Mr. Seldin vanished, as quickly as he arrived, with Craig remaining in his paralyzed “slapped-silly” state once again. Needless to say, Craig was stricken with fear the summer before eighth grade when after receiving his class assignments and teachers, he saw the name, “Mr. Richard F. Seldin” attached to his French class. His parents had asked him what seemed to be the matter to which Craig feigned ignorance. The last thing he needed was his parents to know about the incident in the hallways, the tongue lashing and the essay he wrote to redeem himself. If they knew about that, Craig thought, they’ll invite this man to dinner!

     Mr. Seldin lived up to the whispers in the school halls. He seldom spoke English in his class, unlike other Foreign Language teachers who seemed to conduct their classes exclusively in English. In fact, Craig estimated that 98 percent of the first class on the first day of school was entirely in French. And, students could only answer in French and if the correct words were not handy, Mr. Seldin would fire them at his students in his flawless barrage, daring them to keep up. He was uncompromising. He was demanding in a way no one was accustomed to. While his homework assignments and exams were not unreasonable, it was obvious that if you didn’t prepare yourselves, you would easily fail and then suffer the humiliation of having your parents sign the failed exam to return to Mr. Seldin. 

     There were surprises in Mr. Seldin’s demeanor. He was no monster. He had a wicked sense of humor, and was easy to give praise when praise was due. Yet, like Craig’s parents, apathy was inexcusable, and when apathy reared its’ ugly head every so often, Mr. Seldin would fly into a rage. One particular morning, one that Craig would never forget for the rest of his life, was the sight of Mr. Seldin furiously exiting his own classroom after berating two students for not having a homework assignment ready to turn in. After his rant in which he exclaimed that he would, “toss them so far out of the window that Walter Jacobson would arrive on the scene and later report on the evening news, ‘Two French Class Students Mysteriously Thrown From Classroom Window. Mr. Richard F. Seldin Knows Nothing’,” he stormed out, never to return that day. Even with 30 minutes remaining in the class period, none of the students were brave enough in attempting to even speak, leave or breathe. During those 30 endless minutes, Craig realized something about Mr. Seldin. He loved his job. He loved language and loved teaching it to kids. He loved making it come alive, and showing how it was useful in the world outside of the school or “the glass bubble” as Mr. Seldin referred to it at times. There was a purpose. Mr. Seldin made the language tangible and by using fear as an initial motivator, this man had gotten his students to challenge and amaze themselves. He had them begin to appreciate the language as they had not previously. While doing homework at night, Craig marveled at how he would end up even thinking in French! This simply was not a class to take and place on a transcript. It was a series of valuable instructions and lessons which provided the students with their first real glimpse of life beyond Hyde Park, the university and for some, their tenured parents with nothing left to prove.

     It then dawned on Craig that when they failed, it was as if they failed Mr. Seldin as well and it hurt. Mr. Seldin’s outbursts were not of a dramatic nature. It truly pained him to see his students not living up to the potential he believed and knew all of them had. It was the occasional teenage apathy, which frustrated Craig’s mother and disheartened Craig’s father, which skulked its unwanted way into his students’ minds and hearts. And as far as Mr. Seldin was concerned, this evil spirit must be exorcised. Mr. Seldin’s disappointment was devastating to see, and more importantly, to feel. During moments like these, it was obvious that Mr. Seldin was a teacher who was not robotically claiming a paycheck bi-weekly. This was a man who cared, who would seemingly lay down his life for the advancement of his students. Once that message became clear, students seldomly failed him and crucially, themselves again. The knowledge to be gained by learning a foreign language from Mr. Seldin was not an easy undertaking but a journey he would never abandon them on.

     Craig Hughes ended his year of Mr. Seldin’s French class with a mark of “Excellent,” the highest ranking. He had received straight “A”s on all quizzes, homework assignments and exams and the earning of Mr. Seldin’s respect was a personal triumph. Even during his high school years, Mr. Seldin would occasionally catch Craig in the hallways and engage him in conversation (entirely in French of course). This continued even after Craig’s less than successful sophomore year, in which apathy led to an unexplainable case of melancholy and malaise. But, in June 1983, Craig discovered that striving, working and having something to believe in was not a source of naiveté or parental rhetoric. He had proven himself to Mr. Seldin. He had proven himself to himself. But knowing his parents would somehow miss this success and focus solely on his failures, he could never enjoy it. 
     Craig often felt like a failure to his parents, always noticing the sorrowful look of displeasure in their eyes. Craig theoretically knew that you were only as good as your last success, and there would always be someone better. The reality of that theory made Craig stress over “what-ifs,” and others’ perceptions of him. His ability to cope with these issues had always been shaky and they would only grow more unsteady as he got older. Despite Mr. Seldin’s continued support throughout the unfortunate sophomore year and finally, his successful graduation in 1987, Craig could not help but to see that same sorrowful look of displeasure in his eyes, or so he thought. If Craig could only see Mr. Seldin’s obvious admiration instead of the imagined discontent, he would’ve been better off. It was a compulsive behavior of Craig’s, to reflect the worst of himself in the eyes of his teachers and his peers. He didn’t have a need for everyone to like him. Just the ones that mattered most, from his parents to people he would occasionally encounter throughout his life. People he prayed would see that he was a valuable and worthy individual. And like the most romantic of pop songs he loved, he desperately wished for a girl to stop, and take notice of something she hadn’t quite seen before and realize it was Craig that she wanted and loved.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.