BooksBarbecue
Back Different Class Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Part One
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Part Two
  17. Chapter 1
  18. Chapter 2
  19. Chapter 3
  20. Chapter 4
  21. Chapter 5
  22. Chapter 6
  23. Chapter 7
  24. Chapter 8
  25. Chapter 9
  26. Chapter 10
  27. Chapter 11
  28. Chapter 12
  29. Part Three
  30. Chapter 1
  31. Chapter 2
  32. Chapter 3
  33. Chapter 4
  34. Chapter 5
  35. Chapter 6
  36. Chapter 7
  37. Part Four
  38. Chapter 1
  39. Chapter 2
  40. Chapter 3
  41. Chapter 4
  42. Chapter 5
  43. Chapter 6
  44. Chapter 7
  45. Chapter 8
  46. Chapter 9
  47. Part Five
  48. Chapter 1
  49. Chapter 2
  50. Chapter 3
  51. Chapter 4
  52. Chapter 5
  53. Chapter 6
  54. Chapter 7
  55. Chapter 8
  56. Chapter 9
  57. Chapter 10
  58. Chapter 11
  59. Part Six
  60. Chapter 1
  61. Chapter 2
  62. Chapter 3
  63. Chapter 4
  64. Chapter 5
  65. Chapter 6
  66. Chapter 7
  67. Part Seven
  68. Chapter 1
  69. Chapter 2
  70. Chapter 3
  71. Chapter 4
  72. Chapter 5
  73. Chapter 6
  74. Chapter 7
  75. Chapter 8
  76. Chapter 9
  77. Chapter 10
  78. Chapter 11
  79. Part Eight
  80. Chapter 1
  81. Chapter 2
  82. Chapter 3
  83. Chapter 4
  84. Chapter 5
  85. Chapter 6
  86. Chapter 7
  87. Chapter 8
  88. Chapter 9
  89. Epilogue
  90. Acknowledgments
  91. Reading Group Guide
  92. About the Author
  93. Copyright

I smiled reassuringly and went on. “You’ll find that School and life have a lot in common,” I said. “If you like, School is life with training wheels, a safe environment in which to learn, not just the subjects on the curriculum, but the way to deal with people and ideas you have never met before. Now, the ostrich, we’re told, when faced with a new idea, simply sticks its head in the sand. This may work for the ostrich”—I looked at my watch and rose from my chair—“but on the whole,” I said, “you don’t see many of those applying to university.”

Now, Harrington was a clever boy. His face, bland as it was, nevertheless told me that he’d understood perfectly what I was trying to say. A slight flush marbled his cheek; his spine seemed straighter than ever, and his inevitable Sir!—when it finally came—was as cold and expressionless as a pebble.

“What I’m trying to say—as a teacher and, I hope, a friend”—it wasn’t true, but I wanted to take some of the sting from my words—“is that School isn’t the place to impose one’s ideas. It’s a privileged environment in which you will be exposed to many, many new ideas—some of which will reflect your own, others not. You may reject them—but only when you have studied them. And remember, a man with his head in the sand has only one other orifice left with which to communicate with the rest of the world.”

With any other boy, that might have raised a smile. Not Harrington, though. He simply nodded as if marking me for later ­extermination, picked up his satchel, and exited the room, leaving me to fear that, instead of making a connection with the boy, I might instead have made an enemy for life.

Chapter 5

5

Michaelmas Term, 1981

Dear Mousey,

I don’t like Mr. Straitley. He doesn’t like me either. He teaches Latin like it’s a joke that only he can understand. Well, I’ll give him merda. (See what I did there? Merda. Murder. And everyone keeps telling me I have no sense of humor.)

It’s funny, since I arrived here, lots of things have been different. At home, I’m the same as I ever was. Mum and Dad aren’t fans of change. They only ever notice I’m there when something awful happens. At Church, I’m patient and polite. At meetings, I try to cooperate. Sometimes I bring up sins to confess. Little sins. The rest stay put. No one wants to hear about those.