Now, however, going to Sunday School was like an hour in a communist reeducation camp. Years later I would joke to Marilyn that I used to be a real Bible thumper when I was a kid, but then I figured out the Devil made chocolate chip cookies, and I was a lost cause. She was a hard core Catholic, and this irked her to all get out. It was a Communion Sunday as well. Unlike the Catholics, we only did Communion once a month. On those days it was like a double dose - Sunday School followed by an hour plus of church. As we left, Pastor Joe asked if I wanted to become an altar boy, but I replied, "Only if I get put in charge of the wine." Pastor Joe and my father both laughed at this, but Mom gave me a huffy complaint and smacked the back of my head. I guess the agreement not to hit me anymore was null and void while standing in the House of God.
Monday at school, Mrs. Bakkley asked me to stay after class. She briefly said that we needed to talk, and asked if I could meet her in the classroom at lunchtime. She even gave me a hall pass. It sounded positive to me. If the answer was no, she would have just said that.
I swung by the cafeteria at lunchtime, but simply bought a couple of apples and stuck one in my pocket. I ate the other on the way back to Mrs. Bakkley's class. She was sitting at her desk grading some tests when I knocked on the open door and came in. She put down the test she was working on and looked up at me. "Grab a seat and bring it over here." She pointed at the side of the desk.
"Yes, ma'am." I pulled one out of the front row and sat down facing her.
She eyed me curiously for a second. "Let me make sure I understand you correctly. You want to go through both Algebra 1 and Algebra 2 this year, and then somehow take a high school level course next year. Is that correct?" I just nodded, and she continued, "Why? What brought this on? I have to tell you, your grades so far are average at best. What makes you think you can even do this?"
"I just decided to quit fooling around and do something with my life. I decided to stop goofing off so much."
"This isn't just stopping the goofing off. Taking two math classes in a single year is a lot more than that. And next year? Are you planning on actually attending class at Towson High? Are you planning on skipping a grade?"
"Not really. I figure that if I go over there and say that I managed to pull this off, they would have no reason not to let me do some kind of independent study. My understanding is that they have students already moving ahead in some cases, even taking some classes over at Towson State for dual credit. I want to do that.", I announced.
"Well!" She sat back and eyed me for a moment. "What brought this on?! Did your parents tell you to ask about this?"
I stared at her. That seemed totally out of left field. "My parents? They don't even know about this!"
"You haven't talked to them about doubling up in math?"
"God no! It will make life a lot simpler if I simply present this as a done deal, a fait accompli if you will. I will admit, though, my mom will be all in favor of it. I'll finally be living up to my potential. Why?"
She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've seen Little Johnny get an A on a test and the next day his parents come in thinking he's Sir Isaac Newton brought back to life." She waved it aside. "So, seriously, what brought this on? Does this have something to do with the fight on the bus the other day?" My eyes opened wide at that. "Yeah, I heard all about it. Do you think you can get out of here a year early and escape the bullies? Towson High will be even worse!"
I just shrugged. "It's a yes and no answer. It's more like I just turned thirteen and decided to do something, make something of myself. I want to take control of my life. Up until now everybody and their brother has been telling me what to do and when to do it and how to do it. No more! I want to be in control. Nobody's going to bully me anymore and I want to have some say in what classes I take. I think I can do this. Will you help me? Or not?"
"Hunh." She sat there stumped for a moment. "Well, I might, although if you think you can take control of your life, you are sorely mistaken. I don't think any of us are really in control of anything. Here's the deal. If we were to compress all of this year into half the year, this would be about the midpoint of the semester. Tomorrow, after school, I will give you a midterm test. It will cover not only what we have studied so far, but the topics I will be teaching up through Christmas. You take the test and I grade it. You do well and I will figure out how to do this. You fail, and you stay like now. This is it. One test, make or break. That's the deal. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am!", I said eagerly. "What chapters will the test cover?"
An eye raised at this, as if I was calling her bluff. She gave me the chapters to be covered. Then she said, "This is a one time shot. You will get one hour, no curve on the grade. I don't care how you finagle staying after class or how you plan to get home. This is your shot at glory. If you don't show up for any reason, it's all over. Are we in agreement?"
I stuck out my hand. "Yes, ma'am! Do we need to spit on our palms to make it official?"
She snorted in laughter at this. She simply took my hand and shook it. "I think we can avoid that."
I got up and left, pulling out my second apple and eating it on the way to my next class. I said nothing to any of my classmates, or to my parents that evening. It would be a lot simpler to keep them out of it until I had it locked up. I will admit that I studied those chapters awfully hard that night, reading the first half of the book twice and doing a bunch of problems at the end of each chapter, but it was still a snap. I spent more time writing the answers down than in figuring them out. The next day, I lingered after class and confirmed the time I was to show up in the classroom. I told my parents I was staying late to study in the library, and that I would walk home. It was only about a mile and a half from the school to home, so it wasn't a big deal.
The test was fifty problems, seemingly split evenly among each chapter of the book. I was done in about forty-five minutes, even though I had to ask for help twice, simply to make sure I understood what the problem was asking for. I handed Mrs. Bakkley my test and sat back down in my seat.
"Okay, you want the good news or the bad news now, huh?", she asked. I nodded. Suddenly my mouth was as dry as dust. "Alright, let's see." She pulled her answer key out of her briefcase and graded my test as I waited. She was using a red pen, and I felt an annoying sense of dread as she would make cryptic marks on the paper. It sure seemed like she was making a lot more marks on the test paper than could possibly be warranted. Finally she put down her pen and sat back, to look at me curiously. "Huh!" She wordlessly handed me the page.
My nerves were shot as I turned it to face me. 97! I stared at it, and then glanced up at her. It wasn't perfect. Was it good enough?
"I wrote that test harder than I would have for a normal class, and you just aced it!", she exclaimed.
"Is it good enough?", I asked, barely able to speak.
"Good enough and beyond. If you want to do this, I'll help."