MINT
      CONDITION
     
    
   
   
    
     
      (An
      excerpt
      from
      a
      story)
     
    
   
   
    
     
      By
      Richard
      Lemm
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Tony
      stands
      in
      the
      doorway
      of
      his
      first
      period
      class
      and
      scans
      the
     
     
      scene.
      He's
      punch
      drunk
      from
      a
      late
      night
      of
      marking
      reports,
      and
      his
     
     
      brain's
      translating
      the
      tumult
      of
      sound
      into
      a
      visual
      of
      geysering
      voices,
     
     
      pubescent
      energy
      spouting
      from
      most
      of
      the
      desks.
      At
      the
      quiet
      desks,
      a
     
     
      couple
      heads
      have
      fallen
      asleep
      on
      pillows
      of
      arms,
      Fertig
      and
      Whyte
      -
     
     
      have
      no
      doubt
      smoked
      up
      on
      the
      way
      to
      school
      and
      slouch
      into
      their
     
     
      merry
      jane
      stone,
      his
      four
      native
      girls
      whisper
      softly
      in
      the
      back
      of
      the
     
     
      room,
      and
      a
      few
      others
      are
      withdrawn
      into
      early
      adolescent
      misery
      or,
     
     
      amazingly,
      studiousness
      or
      even
      a
      love
      of
      learning.
     
    

    
     
      Most
      mornings,
      Tony
      clears
      his
      head
      in
      the
      doorway--
      whether
     
     
      from
      marking
      and
      class
      prep
      or
      sipping
      a
      single
      malt
      in
      front
      of
      a
      ball
     
     
      game
      or
      late
      night
      movie--
      and
      realizes
      that
      he
      likes
      every
      kid
      in
      that
     
     
      room,
      or
      nearly
      all
      of
      them
      except
      for
      the
      one
      or
      two
      who'd
      hung
      them-
     
     
      selves
      the
      day
      before
      with
      the
      rope
      he'd
      given
      them.
      And
      he
      would
      like
     
     
      them
      too
      again
      by
      the
      end
      of
      period,
      if
      they
      smartened
      half-way
      up.
     
    

    
     
      At
      first,
      his
      students
      thought
      it
      was
      weird,
      the
      way
      he
      stood
      in
      the
     
     
      doorway,
      leaned
      on
      the
      doorframe,
      and
      slowly
      panned
      the
      room.
      Now,
     
     
      they're
      used
      to
      it.
      The
      kids
      x-ray
      all
      the
      new
      teachers
      for
      their
      rituals
      and
     
     
      eccentricities,
      and
      anything
      goes
      as
      long
      as
      it's
      harmless
      to
      their
      vulnera-
     
    
   
   
    
     
      [20]
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ble
      egos
      and
      social
      well-being.
      They've
      decided
      that
      Mr.
      Brancato
      is
     
     
      good-natured
      enough,
      that
      the
      hint
      of
      orneriness
      or
      resentment
      at
      the
      cor-
     
     
      ners
      of
      his
      mouth
      and
      the
      occasional
      sarcasm
      in
      his
      voice
      have
      nothing
      to
     
     
      do
      with
      them.
     
    

    
     
      With
      their
      finely-tuned
      antennae,
      they
      can
      detect
      some
      uncertainty
     
     
      about
      whether
      Tony
      really
      wants
      to
      cross
      the
      threshold
      and
      do
      this,
      face
     
     
      thirty-five
      kids
      whose
      interest
      in
      history
      is
      mostly
      confined
      to
      who
      wore
     
     
      what
      to
      the
      party,
      who
      lost
      a
      tooth
      in
      a
      hockey
      fight,
      and
      who
      felt
      up
      or
     
     
      put
      down
      whom.
      But
      they
      can
      also
      sense
      his
      own
      love
      of
      history,
      and
      they
     
     
      respect
      that.
      Too
      many
      teachers
      don't
      love
      their
      subject,
      they
      love
      the
      job,
     
     
      the
      salary,
      the
      status
      and
      power.
      Mr.
      Brancato
      doesn't
      seem
      to
      give
      a
      shit
     
     
      about
      that,
      Fertig
      and
      Whyte
      have
      told
      him,
      the
      status
      and
      power,
      that
      is.
     
     
      ‘And
      they
      can
      sense
      how
      much
      he
      wants
      to
      want
      to
      be
      in
      that
      classroom,
     
     
      how
      he
      tries
      to
      leave
      whatever
      bugs
      him
      behind
      in
      the
      hallway
      and
      enter
     
     
      the
      fray
      a
      laid-back,
      caring
      kind
      of
      guy.
      Dedicated,
      that's
      the
      word
      he
     
     
      would
      like
      to
      hear--
      think--
      about
      himself.
      Not
      to
      the
      job,
      not
      just
      to
      the
     
     
      subject,
      certainly
      not
      to
      that
      dry-walled
      abstraction
      ‘education,’
      but
      to
      the
     
     
      students.
      :
     
    

    
     
      He
      helps
      himself
      cross
      the
      threshold
      by
      thinking
      about
      certain
      stu-
     
     
      dents.
      Not
      only
      the
      lovers-of-learning,
      like
      Nora
      Broadmore
      who's
     
     
      immersed
      herself
      in
      Medieval
      and
      Renaissance
      Europe
      as
      if
      she's
      been
     
     
      called
      to
      the
      historians'
      priesthood.
      But
      also
      Duncan,
      smart-ass
      hockey
     
     
      thug
      and
      grade
      ten
      repeater,
      whose
      brain
      came
      alive
      writing
      a
      report
      on
     
     
      the
      '72
      series
      with
      the
      Russians
      and
      Paul
      Henderson's
      goal.
      Or
      the
      native
     
     
      girls
      who
      did
      a
      group
      report
      on
      their
      tribal
      history.
      Or
      Grace
     
     
      Dombkiewicz,
      who
      was
      roused
      from
      her
      stupor
      when
      Tony
      told
      the
      class
     
    
   
   
    
     
      he'd
      seen
      Joni
      Mitchell
      live
      in
      concert.
      Most
      of
      the
      class
      yawned
      or
     
    
   
   
    
     
      groaned.
      But
      Grace
      came
      up
      after
      class
      and
      asked
      to
      do
      her
      first
      report
      on
     
     
      Mitchell.
      Grace
      even
      wrote
      Joni
      a
      letter
      full
      of
      questions,
      and
      received
      a
     
     
      helpful
      reply
      from
      Mitchell's
      agent,
      and
      a
      photo
      of
      Joni
      personally
      auto-
     
     
      graphed
      to
      Grace.
     
    

    
     
      "I
      hear
      you're
      getting
      your
      Canadian
      history
      students
      to
      write
     
     
      reports
      on
      hockey
      players
      and
      rock
      stars,"
      the
      principal
      asked
      Tony
      in
      the
     
     
      staff
      room,
      his
      tone
      part
      curious,
      part
      waiting
      for
      a
      reason
      to
      disapprove.
     
    

    
     
      "No.
      They're
      researching
      famous
      Canadians
      and
      their
      nation-build-
     
     
      ing
      achievements,
      some
      of
      which
      happened
      after
      the
      age
      of
      far
      and
      canoe.
     
     
      Why,
      is
      hockey
      not
      a
      worthwhile
      achievement?"
     
    

    
     
      Tony
      knows
      you're
      not
      sapposed
      to
      sound
      sarcastic
      to
      your
      princi-
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ~
      pal
      during
      your
      first-year,
      when
      you're
      on
      probation.
      The
      part
      of
      him
     
    
   
   
    
     
      which
      is
      disappointed
      with
      himself
      for
      winding
      up
      a
      junior
      high
      teacher
      in
     
     
      Grasmere
      is
      behind
      that
      sarcasm.
      A
      part
      which
      wouldn't
      mind
      being
      let
      go