Bloomington High School South, The Gothic, 1983, Page 73

Description:	T~At best an immovable manUpon entering Room 224, I found anempty seat, sat down, and opened myfolder to get out paper and pencil. Thebell was just about to ring, and I wantedto be ready. Over in the corner I couldsee Frances and Anne, who were motioning for me to move to the seat whichthey had been saving and which I hadnot seen. But I decided that at least fortoday, I had better stay where I was; foreveryone was now positioned and comfortable, and Mr. Sorrels was coming into the room.Sorrels was at best an immovableman. His thoughts, actions, and appearances were demanding; and hischaracter, no less enchanting. At leastthat is what I had heard from myclassmates. He was rough, coarse, andunbending when it came to grades; andfrom all my recollections, my most fittingdescription of him would be one ofobstinance.Dawn FarisAll too often people had reminded meof his quirks and idiosyncrasies and hadwarned me to drop humanities and savethe trouble which they had gonethrough. I suppose I would have, if itwere not for the fact that I likedhumanities and wanted to take it,despite the teacher and the rumorsassociated with him. Anyway, almosteveryone who decided to go into thefield I was interested in neededhumanities.So, with as firm a voice as I couldmuster, I answered him as he camestrolling up to my desk. His questionsseemed endless; and my answers, unsatisfying. He just could not understandwhy anyone would transfer classes midway in the grading term. I attempted toexplain, but he rebuffed my answers asthough they were lint on his shirt.Later, as I was working on myhomework, he caught me off guard; andI could not answer the problem he wasaddressing to me. From that, he assumed I had not done the rest of myhomework and threw it away. I wasshocked and terrified but mostly distressed. I did not know what to do but recalled my mothers teaching and so refusedto show any of my feelings.The bell rang; and as I heard thegeneral flow of the class filing out, I feltsomeone tapping my shoulder. Apprehensively, I looked up. But it was anunfamiliar face —one of a woman andtherefore certainly not that of Mr. Sorrels, whom I was expecting. Distantly, Iheard her complaining. She was muttering—about me, about my inatten-tiveness, and about my inability to listen.I asked her where Mr. Sorrels was;and when she explained that she was asubstitute and that he was sick, I couldnot help but laugh. I had not even methim yet. I had been daydreaming.FirelightBeth SteinMimicking shadows weave togetherIn a graceful dance.Radiant showers are cast outBy towering, twisted rainbows,Giving a golden performance.Tempo increasing,Frenzied violet ragesWithin glowing caverns.Exhausted dancers drop likeshimmering jewelsInto the ever-deepening afterglow.Nels BoernerCreativity 73
Source:	http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloomsouth/id/2015
Collection:	Bloomington High School South

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