“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?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open. He had expected a lot of things, a thrashing, expulsion, but class chief? Drawing a long, deep breath, he scrambled to respond. Things couldn’t have turned out better. Of course he would be class chief, and of course he would make a good one, probably the best. Why, he already had a considerable following among both boys and girls, and to keep them all in line would not only be easy, but great fun. Hah, if someone dared not to listen to him, he’d show them! And suddenly he began to think of himself as rather important. There was no one who even came close to rivaling his qualities in strength and leadership. He thought, The headmaster sees I’m strong and I have the power to make everyone afraid of me. I already have the class under my thumb, so I’m the natural choice for class chief.
“Well, Ohrimko.” The headmaster looked at him from under his brows. “What will it be?”
“Yes, I can do it,” he shouted.
Kulik smiled slightly at the boy, pleased his plan was starting to take effect. “I knew you would agree to my proposition, young man. Keep in mind, being chief is no easy matter. You must set a good example to the rest of the class at all times. You must be the paramount influence. For example, you can’t get into any more fights, or beat up girls, or cause trouble for the teacher. It’s important for you to listen and show respect to Haya Sruleyevna. You are not to threaten her in any way. Don’t hang your head, young man, we all learn from our mistakes. And one last thing: you are behind in your lessons. You must work hard to catch up to the rest of the children. Why, little Tolik already knows the entire alphabet, and by heart. If you apply yourself you can overtake him easily. Chief of the class must surpass everyone in all respects.”
Ohrimko screwed up his mouth and gulped hard. The headmaster’s plan was beginning to take on a sour note — it was definitely more than he had bargained for. True, he looked forward to keeping his classmates in line, but the part about doing his homework didn’t appeal to him one bit. On even his better days, he didn’t enjoy listening to what was going on around him in class, and he had no desire to work through his arithmetic or spelling drills. Suddenly, being class chief didn’t look as appealing as it had a moment ago.
When the recess bell rang, the headmaster called all the second graders together and made his announcement: Ohrimko Suchok was to become class chief. Shocked and shaken, the boys and girls banded together to raise their objections. Desperately they pleaded with the headmaster to reconsider. They argued it was completely unfair to grant Ohrimko the upper hand; it would only give him license to terrorize them, without being held accountable by anyone but himself.
When this news reached Haya Fifkina, she couldn’t believe her ears. She was completely beside herself with anger. After having launched a formal complaint to the People’s Commissariat against Ohrimko Suchok and before even receiving a response from them, she was furious to learn that the headmaster had gone and appointed him class chief. Ohrimko was a belligerent child, her worst pupil, and if anything, deserved a good thrashing, certainly not a pat on the back. She was convinced this was all some kind of plot to drive her out of the school for good. She vowed to take this additional information to the authorities in Pinsk, in the hope that it would strengthen her case against Kulik.
The very next day, entering her classroom, prepared for disaster, Haya Fifkina was completely taken aback to see that the children were not shoving and lunging at one another or yelling in rough, teasing voices — they were lined up behind their desks, their hands folded before them, shouting in unison, “Good morning, Citizen Haya Fifkina!” Haya stared at them suspiciously, then walked over to Ohrimko and looked him straight in the eye. Obviously this impish little brat, who for some reason was pretending to be a model pupil, was responsible for this. He definitely had something up his sleeve. She turned to look at the blackboard. It had not only been scrubbed clean but even polished. On the ledge lay a neatly folded damp cloth and next to it a row of chalk. She didn’t know what to make of any of this.
“Well, well, children.” She put her hands on her hips. “What a delightful surprise. Thank you. Now please, take your seats.” Feeling immensely pleased, she reached for an exercise book on the far side of her desk, ready to begin the first lesson of the day. Looking up briefly to ensure that order still reigned, she found Ohrimko on the edge of his seat, eagerly waving his hand. He looked confused.
“Yes, Ohrimko?”
“Citizen Sruleyevna, I would like to ask you a question, um … er …”
“Come on, come out with it, boy. Don’t drag your tongue. What is it?”
“Well, about your lessons. Why can’t you teach us in Ukrainian? We don’t understand anything you say. If you taught us in our own language, then things would be easier for us all.”