Mr Spencer

It was a cold December afternoon, the day I left Pencey Prep. It was Saturday the day of a big deal around Pencey due to the football game with Saxon Hall which was the last game in the year. I remember it was about three o’clock and I was standing on the top of Thomson Hill. I was freezing because I had my coat and gloves stolen. Although quite a few guys from Pencey came from very wealthy families crooking wasn’t something unusual in this school. I didn’t watch the game with others as I was on my way to my history teacher’s house. Old Spencer had a grippe so he invited me to his house. He wanted to say goodbye because he knew I wasn’t going to come back to Pencey after Christmas vacation. He even left me a note saying he wanted to talk with me before I leave. When I reached Old Spencer’s house I rang the doorbell as fast as I could. I was so cold that I could hardly move my poor fingers. Finally Mr Spencer’s wife opened the door. She was a really nice woman. I think she even liked me and was glad to see me. When I came in I asked her how she was but she didn’t hear me asking due to her bad hearing. I think she was almost deaf. When she finally heard my question she said she was fine and told me to go to Mr Spencer’s room. His door was open but I decided to knock anyway as I wanted to be polite. He was wrapped up in his old Navajo blanket that together with his wife he had bought in Yellowstone Park from some Indians. He was sitting in a chair. It was big and leather. After few seconds he yelled that I can come in. It wasn’t something unusual or new because he was yelling very often outside class. Old Spencer was reading the Atlantic Monthly. It was very depressing to see all sorts of medicines around him. My teacher asked me to sit on his bed and then wanted to find out what had Dr Thurmer told me. I told him about the chat that we had had. Mr Spencer was nodding all the time. I guarantee you that none of you have ever seen someone nodding as often as my history teacher did. Then he started picking his nose. It was pretty disgusting to watch that old man pick his nose. I regretted that I came to visit him. Not only because of his weird behavior but also because of the smell of Vicks Nose Drops and the fact that he was wearing his pajamas. I don’t like the sight of old people’s legs and other parts of their bodies. Suddenly Mr Spencer asked me  how many subjects I had carried that term. He also wanted to make sure if I knew why he had flunked me in history. My teacher told me that he did it because I knew nothing and added that he doubted whether I have ever opened my textbook. He was right. My knowledge was pretty  poor and I had only glanced through my textbook. Then Mr Spencer read out loud my essay from exam paper. I didn’t want him to read it but he didn’t care. I am aware of the fact that my essay consisted of 5 sentences and wasn’t long at all nor good enough but it wasn’t necessary to read it! I will never forgive my history teacher for doing it! He also read the note that I drooped him at the bottom of the page. After reading my exam he asked me whether I blamed him for flunking me and how I felt about my current situation. He was also interested in my previous schools and plans for the future. While he was asking all these questions I was thinking about ducks living in Central Park. Finally I deiced to leave. I told my teacher that I really appreciate that he cared about my future and told him there was no need to worry about me. I lied that I had to pick up my equipment from the gym. We shook hands and said goodbye. After I shut the door I heard him yell ‘Good luck!’. I hope I was mistaken. I never tell anybody ‘Good luck!’ as it sounds terrible!

'Holden with Mr Spencer' author: Alicja Cwalina