Writing in Reverse - Frank the Intelligent

Frank Ottaviani was having a terrible Friday evening. Scratch that, a terrible Friday. All week he had had to deal with an idiotic, unceasingly disobedient class of freshmen. Having taught at one of the more impoverished high schools in New York for 15 years, Frank oddly found himself continually surprised at the ever-present immaturity of 14 and 15 year old teenagers.

The subject that Frank felt he was chosen to teach is English, yet to his dismay, he often found at least 4 other languages spoken in his room, which flew this-a-way and that-a-way with the paper balls and planes. Although Frank found himself above the crude method of discipline, today he had no choice but to threaten the imbeciles he taught with Fs if they didn’t “Shut up and learn the art of words!”

This threat did not go well with a few of the rowdier boys in his morning class, and having 5 hours to let the displeasure boil over, the boys decided to take his nice leather coat after school. Stricken by grief at the loss of his jacket, the grief deepened when Frank could not call the police to return it to him. Frank lacked a cell phone, but to him they were a waste of money, what with the incessant blipping and booping that he heard when students used them in class.
Frank was angered even more by the fact that he would have to wait till Monday to attempt to get the boys expelled. What Frank did not realize is that this probably would not work, as the younger principal thought he was an angry middle aged man with superiority issues.

It had begun to drizzle.

With no car, and now no jacket, Frank had to walk as fast as his large belly would allow to the refuge that was the underground subway station. One might think Frank would have owned a car. But, his pay made no room for a car in his apartment complex’s minuscule garage. To Frank, there was no need for a car. He was too smart to contribute to global warming, a model citizen.

When he arrived at the subway station, he went through the turnstile and immediately sat on an uncomfortable bench. Under the fluorescent lighting, his skin appeared sallow, his expression was one of frustration, and now he smelled somewhat like a wet dog.

When the train finally showed up, he boarded and mentally prepared himself to sit next to the insane Baxter Cunningham, who rode the subway at the same time he did every day. Baxter went on for 15 slow minutes about all the trash he collected for his house and the recycling center that day, pulling out a few pieces of tacky, unidentifiable plastic. Frank compensated for the blabber with patient nods.

He has really desired to read his book on the subway home. But, “No matter,” he thought, “I can just read at home.”

Reading and watching re-runs of the show Pet Star on Animal Planet all weekend was all Frank had to look forward to, but he would rather have done that than attempt to be social with human beings he thought lesser than him. That would come Monday.