Subperior

Subperior: A tale of their survival and surrender.

If you walk down the corridors of Skater High, Juniper, Alabama and walk straight up the ramp designed for "wheelies", you will come across a door. That is not your destination. Following the door on the left is a narrow passageway to the second- floor terrace with a broom cupboard opposite the rooftop entry. That ain't your door too. Inside the terrace is a small room, an attic, where there is nothing but tin buckets, rusty locks, and some spiders. Well on ordinary school days, that is what it contains. On Wednesday evenings, that room is the meeting place of Subperior.

Now you may ask what it is. Curiosity is the tribal curse of humans. But I'll explain later.

According to the Subperior Charter (enacted 20th February, 1996), it is a group of "supernumerary personnel trained in the art of controlling the irritabilities of broods in the non-appearance of their educators". Simply put, a group of Substitute teachers.

On that day, the Major sat on his three-legged stool, smartly rapping a baton he had procured from the music room on the small table near him. He surveyed the people in front of him-  substitute teachers seated on all sorts of seats staring at him in rapture. "Silence", bellowed the Major in his military voice.

"Now ladies and gents, we're gathered here today to discuss the nature of the problems encountered with our insolent charges. Let us begin- Mr. Snot-Nose please take the stage."

The lean, lanky man who took the "stage" was not really called Snot-Nose. It was what his students called him on account of the fact that he had a constantly dripping nose. It was an unspoken rule at Subperior that the teachers would be addressed by these acronyms so that they would be encouraged to work harder to make the children respect them. The Major was called Birch-Cane, an ode to his ever-present wicker with which he sometimes castigated the children. He was the only one who was feared by the runts.

Snot-Nose coughed. "Last week's survey shows that only seven out of our ten substitutes were insulted -a definite improvement from last week's nine out of ten- the only major mishap being Mrs. Knobbles's dentures getting dipped in carbolic acid while the unfortunate lady inconveniently dozed off during one noisy period.

Mrs. Knobbles sniffed dejectedly in the background.

"-the main child causing all the trouble to the Subperiors is Clarence von Digg" -a mutter followed the name- "the little youngster insists on encouraging the other spiffs on throwing spit balls and putting gum in our hair. The Principal is a useless fellow- does nothing but snore all day and pilfer through his various lunchboxes-"

By now Snot-Nose's face had become purple, his nose and eyes a watery disposition, and with every angry word, spittle came out of his mouth.

"That'll do, old fellow. Now who amongst y'all want to speak next?", rapped Major.

Silence ensued. A slight cough issued from the farthest corner of the room. The Major peered at the handsome young man at the back row and said, "Oh yes, yes, let me introduce Mr. Potts, the newest addition to our society. Hellooooo!!!!!"

Mr. Potts was quite taken aback with this unusual welcome and coughed politely, "Hello everyone, I'm very happy to be amongst y'all and to be a substitute until I finish my educat'n degree- "

"Who said youse'll be 'appy around here? Ain't nothing but a hellhole prison where even the impron'ment of the Yankees seem heartless.", interrupted Curly Joe the janitor who sometimes substituted when the others had fled off.

"I will ask you kind sir-"

"Oh shut your gob!"

"Now now Curly Joe don't get too angry and let's get on.", said the Major sternly. "OK then. Clarence von Digg- what has the little urchin been up to now?"

"Oh Sir, he frightens me no end and only last week he smashed my glasses and put frog-spawn inside my canteen.", sobbed Mrs. Fish-Breath.

"Shuck the Digg laddie, he is forever doing things like that."

Mr. Potts, quite shocked, said, "But Sir, we must talk to him instead of letting him get on with these activities. After all, he is just a child and-"

"As if you are an impeccal authority on chilluns.", shouted Curly Joe.

"sir, I beg you not to interrupt me with your non-descript comments."

"Huh."

Mr. Potts had taken an instant dislike to Curly Joe who at that moment chose to dig his nose for treasure. Moreover, Curly Joe's language and grammar highly offended Mr. Potts, himself having received a convent education up in the North.

"Are youse implin' that we should listn' to a Yank like ya?"

By then a proper ruckus had started in the little attic room. Everyone had picked a side and was hurling insults at the other. Some old ladies like Mrs. Knobbles and Mrs. Clodpants sat in the corner looking frightened and sniffling into their large spotted handkerchiefs. The Major had grown purple in the face shouting for order.

No one noticed a little boy of ten slip in and light a firecracker under the Major's chair. This distraction was extremely fortunate for Clarence von Digg and he scurried out the door and hid in the broom cupboard, his ears stoppered up with his fingers.

BOOM!

The explosion shocked everyone in the "conference" room filling the air inside with thick smoke and dust. The men and women coughed. Curly Joe was the first to stumble out coughing violently and clutching at his neck. The others followed, sooty-faced and grimy.

The Major looked at his colleagues and throwing up his arms in disgust, said, "Oh come on. That little piece of Satan spawn outsmarted us all again. I give up. Let's go."

And thus, they all left one by one, leaving Mr. Potts staring dejectedly at the departing backs

"This group is going to the rats." And he followed them out.