The iCandidate Read Online Free PDF Page A

teacher handed a copy of my quiz on the American Revolution to the principal because he was so upset. Since there is no love-loss between myself and Principal Howell, he smugly pronounced the short test too advanced for the high school level. He even added his own doubts about being able to pass the quiz. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the average grade was an eighty-seven and not a single student failed. Okay, I actually had more than enough heart to tell him, with plenty left over to remind him a half-dozen times since.
    I roll my desk chair over to the middle of the stage, coffee and attendance book in hand as students begin poring over their quizzes. Fifteen minutes later, it’s apparent by the smiles on their faces that they aced this one. As I collect them, a Barbie doll-looking blonde with bright red fingernails and trendy clothes raises her hand.
    “ Yes, Miss Rasner?
    “ What'd ya do this weekend, Mister B?” Apparently Peyton thinks my social life is pretty active, because she asks the same question every Monday. It’s challenging to come up with new answers.
    “ The same thing I do every weekend Peyton, try to take over the world.” Since the students actually chuckle, my confidence on their quiz performance is confirmed.
    “ How'd that work for you?” queries Amanda, a girl born to be an accountant. I am pretty sure she could do my taxes in ten minutes and get me a better refund than any tax service can manage. Ten years from now, she will enchant guys in bars, only to send them fleeing for their lives when they find out she’s an auditor for the IRS or something.
    “Well, I am not sitting on a throne, not carrying a scepter, and most importantly, I’m still here, right?”
    “ So, not so good?” Peyton asks, persistent in trying to pry some details out of me.
    “Don’t fret Peyton, there are plenty of weekends left for me to try.” Everyone smiles, but I am sure they are thinking they would rue the day I was ever dictator of anything. Running this class is bad enough for them. “Where did we leave off on Friday?” I add, changing the subject.
    “ We were talking about the European power's failing to restrain Hitler's ambitions in Europe,” Chelsea is quick to explain. Many teachers will pretend they don’t have favorite students. They fear the admission can be perceived as granting special treatment, even if it’s not the case. I harbor no such sensitivity. I am honest with myself about having favorites, and Chelsea Stanton is one of them.
    “ And what did you learn?”
    “ That some things never change.” Not hard to figure out why I like her. She’s sharp.
    The students nod their heads in agreement. I scan their faces for a moment, looking for my next target. I settle on Xavier, the only African-American student in the class. Millfield High is not a bastion of diversity. Tall and athletic, Xavier likes to play the role of uncaring teenager. Truth is, this kid will not only go to college on a scholarship in any one of three sports, he’ll undoubtedly be an academic All-American.
    “ What does she mean, Xavier?”
    “ Talk is cheap. And all anyone ever seems to do is run their mouths,” he says.
    “ Then or now, X?” Yeah, I call him X. With the only possible exception being Q, it is the coolest letter to start your name with.
    “ Both!”
    I spent all year focusing on causality, because it makes history interesting to students who would otherwise have no interest in learning. Knowing the American Revolution started in 1775 and the Union won the Civil War is important, but convincing young minds it’s actually relevant for more than just an exam is the hardest part of teaching. Getting them to relate the past to the present not only keeps their interest, it exercises the critical thinking skills they will need someday.
    “ You all know what question is coming next. Why? Vanessa?”
    It is game day for Vanessa and the team she captains, so she is dressed in her jersey. A