Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

It is not a ruler but a spear

Haya Fifkina, beware !

At recess, almost all the children gathered around the drawing, laughing and talking at the top of their voices. A few older boys elbowed their way to the front to get a better look, while several girls stood on tiptoe, shouting and pointing excitedly. One little girl in a blue frock and gray knitted stockings, standing near the drawing, twirling her braids, took it upon herself and for the benefit of all to read the words aloud, “It’s not a ruler, but a spear …” As she read, the children fell into an uproar. Enjoying the attention, just as she was about to start on the next line, suddenly Ohrimko appeared and charged toward her. He was red in the face and fuming with rage.

“Why don’t you just shut up!” he shouted at her. “You’re just a dumb old girl. It’s not funny!” Raising his arms, with all the force he could muster, he pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the head. When her nose started to bleed, horrified at the sight of blood, she picked herself up, and made for the door as fast as her little feet could carry her, down the corridor, straight to the headmaster’s office. Standing in the doorway, panting and gasping, wiping her tears with the cuffs of her blouse, she smeared blood all over her face.

Kulik saw her and leapt up in horror. “Good God,” he cried, “what on earth happened to you?” Before she could answer, he pulled her into the kitchen, filled the basin with warm water, and washed her hands and face. Later he applied poultices to her cuts. “Who’s responsible for this?”

The girl cried out, “Ohrimko Suchok!”

Kulik was shaken. Ohrimko Suchok was an incorrigible boy, hopeless; he was at a loss with what to do with him. He wanted to call the boy to his office at once, but he wasn’t sure how to handle him. Ohrimko had just been disciplined for attacking Haya Fifkina, and with no noticeable results. Finally, Kulik decided to wait until the end of the day, until classes ended, to allow himself time to think of a plan. He considered suspending him and sending him home, keeping him after school, giving him a good thrashing…. When the bell rang, he had come up with the perfect solution, one that had just popped into his head. It was rather unconventional, but he was confident it would have a positive effect. He sat at his desk, patiently waiting for Ohrimko to knock on the door.

“Come in, young man.” Kulik rose to his feet. His tone was calm and composed and there was even a smile on his face, which he didn’t attempt to hide.

The boy stared. He didn’t know what to make of this. He expected the headmaster to be enraged, fuming, but he certainly did not expect him to be smiling. He anticipated the worst and was very frightened. Any moment now, any second, he would get a flogging a thousand times worse than he had ever had before. Drawing a deep breath and standing without moving a muscle, he closed his eyes tight and waited for the onslaught to begin. But there came no sound of a switch, no pain to his palms, no heavy breathing of the headmaster over his head. There was only silence. Slowly opening his eyes, to his surprise he saw the headmaster sitting quietly at his desk with his hands folded, still with that same strange smile on his face. Ohrimko watched him closely, convinced he would spring on him at any moment.

Kulik motioned to him. “Come here, young man.” That his tone continued to be soft, even kindly, further confounded the boy.

Creeping timidly toward the desk, Ohrimko wanted only one thing: for the punishment to be over and done with. He suspected the headmaster was up to something and whatever plan he had for him he was certain would be brutal.

Kulik watched the boy but didn’t speak. He was thinking. As he was about to say something, before any words came out, to his great surprise, the boy burst into tears; his entire body trembled. He couldn’t stop crying.

“Ohrimko, what’s wrong?” Kulik was amazed to see the school bully in such a state of distress. He had expected defiance and anger from him, but not tears.

The boy continued to whimper. “It’s my legs. They’re sore. My father beat me last night, he beat me with a nettle switch and now I can barely move.” Rolling up his pants, he showed Kulik the cuts and bruises on his legs.

Kulik was deeply disturbed by what he saw. Even though Ohrimko was the biggest bully in the school and made life miserable for everyone, there was a kind of helpless sadness in his eye that had to arouse sympathy. For the first time he saw the boy not as a little monster out to create pain and misery for others, but as a lost, confused, lonely child trying to get attention.

The boy stood hesitating, rooted to the spot. The thought of getting another beating all but paralyzed him. Suddenly he saw the headmaster rise to his feet and come toward him. Any second now and everything would be over. He would grab him, strike him, finish him off right then and there. But instead Kulik took hold of his left ear. Pain shot through the boy and he let out a cry. He was guilty and now he was about to pay. He had beaten up a defenseless little girl and he deserved what was coming to him, and probably more. He waited for the flogging to begin. But instead of a flogging something completely unexpected happened. The headmaster made a very peculiar sound and his mouth twisted with disgust:

“Ugh! Ohrimko, this is completely unacceptable. We simply cannot allow this sort of thing to go on. Your ears are filthy!”

The boy stood dumbstruck. He turned red with shame and embarrassment. It was true he did not take kindly to soap and water and very rarely washed his face, let alone his ears. But why was the headmaster making a point of it now? Wasn’t he there to be punished? When the headmaster opened the top drawer of his desk, Ohrimko was sure he was going to take out a switch or something equally unforgiving. But instead he brought out a small parcel wrapped in newspaper and tied with brown string.

“Here, Ohrimko,” he said, “this is for you. I bought it in Pinsk. Something tells me that at heart you ‘re a good boy.”

For the longest time Ohrimko stood looking dazed, his eyes round with wonder. Edging toward the desk carefully, he leaned forward and grabbed the parcel. Peering inside, to his great astonishment he found half a dozen candies in thin paper wrappers, everyone a different color. He could hardly believe his eyes. No one had ever given him such a treat before, and straight from a candy store in Pinsk!

The headmaster urged him on. “Go ahead and take one.”

Ohrimko hesitated a moment and then popped an orange candy into his mouth, all the while keeping an eye on the headmaster. He was certain something big and painful was about to happen to him, and soon. No one received candy for punishment; that just did not happen. The headmaster was merely toying with him before moving in for the kill.

And sure enough, barely a minute had passed when, pacing the room, the headmaster all at once turned on him with a scowl. His tone was stern and abrupt.

“Ohrimko, do you enjoy being a bully? Do you enjoy teasing others and cracking their knuckles? Do you? Why don’t you answer me? Very well then, I’ll answer for you. I believe you do not. That’s why I want to discuss something with you today. I want to give you a job — a very important job. I realize everyone says you’re a troublemaker, but I disagree, I feel deep down you’re capable of better things, much better. And I’m willing to give you a chance. But first I must have your full cooperation. What I propose to do is make you chief of your class. Your job will be to make sure none of your classmates get out of hand, and if they do, you must report to me immediately. I want you to take this assignment very seriously. Do you think you can handle it?”