Rosco parked in his usual spot close to the front of the school. It was a good spot that allowed him to get out quickly when he left at lunch to go to work. He had a class called "Work Experience" in the afternoon that allowed him to go to work in the at lunch and get elective credit towards graduation. It was the greatest class he had ever had. He would meet once a month with the teacher and have his boss fill out some paperwork, he usually did it himself, and he would get an easy "A." Everything was going good today he thought. He got to run an errand for his photography teacher, which got him out of school for a short time. He had a highly coveted "off-campus" parking pass because of his work-experience class and occasionally he would run errands for Mr. Anderson, the teacher in charge of the print shop and all of the photography classes at the school. Steve had taken photography since his first year at WAHS and had become a teacher's aide since his junior year.
Steve loved photography and aspired one day to become a professional photographer who travelled the world in search of the perfect picture. "Someday," he thought, "I'll be taking pictures for National Geographic." In the meantime, Steve had a much simpler plan. He wanted to have fun and live a lifestyle appropriate for a person of his intelligence, character and sensitivity. He admitted to himself that at times he was "overly sensitive," or as Spanky used to say, "a bitch." He knew Spanky was right. The incident with Gator earlier in the morning had been his fault. He had been just trying to impress Suzy. But it didn't seem to be working. "Just as well, " he thought. "She lives right down the street from me and if we ever broke up it would be torture driving by her house everyday." He decided from that point not to pursue her any longer and he'd probably start accepting the gas money she offered him too. That would patch things up with Spanky and Gator. After all, as annoying as they could be sometimes they were his best friends.
Steve walked from the parking lot to the industrial arts building where the photo lab and classroom were located. Mr. Anderson was teaching a Photography I class there right now. Steve walked into the class of mostly sophomores and juniors with the look of disdain on his face. He truly detested underclassmen, with a few exceptions of course. As he walked in he didn't notice Gator sitting in the back by the door. He strolled in with his nose in the air, clearly superior to everyone in the class. After all that was why he was the teacher's aide. He slowly walked by the first desk without noticing who was sitting there. Gator stuck out his foot to trip him. Steve briefly tripped over it but caught himself before falling down. He laughed and said," okay Gator now we are even." Gator laughed and nodded. Most of the class didn't even notice as Mr. Anderson was in the front of the room showing prints from previous year's projects. Mr. Anderson called attention to the fact that a guest ahd arrived in the class.
"Steve here has done a great job with black and white work. Those are some of his shots posted over there on the wall, " he said. He seemed happy to segway the opportunity into his lecture for the day.
Mr. Anderson was one of the most respected teachers on campus. He was one of the rare teachers who had lived a "real" life before going into teaching. He had been a grunt in Vietnam, then worked as a photographer and as a graphics technician. He was physically imposing at six foot two and thickly muscled. He proudly sported a thick moustache and long-hair down the sides of his head. He had a typical 40's chrome-dome which gave him the appearance of a monk. He had a good sense of humor and was highly regarded by his students because he taught an elective class and all of the students who were in his classes wanted to be there. It was very apparent by his matter of fact manner that he didn't care much for the educational bureaucracy but he seemed to love his students. His class was always a hive of activity with students creating projects and learning valuable printing skills and how to develop an artistic eye.
"So Steve," Anderson said in his deep baritone voice, "Tell the class how you made those prints on the wall over there."
Steve was momentarily taken aback by the sudden spotlight but his love of his work quickly cut through any embarassment he was feeling and he walked over to the wall and pointed to his photos.
"Well it was pretty simple really," he said in his best self-depricating manner. "The one on the far side there of the trees is a half-tone set onto a flat paper. It was then cropped ot fit into the mount. It was originally a color slide that we made into a black and white negetive and then shot the final print."
"Nice work Steve," Anderson said.
"Thanks," he said nodding. "If you guys pay attention in here you will learn how to do that process in the next few weeks. Mr. Anderson taught me everything I know about photography."
With that Steve dropped the supplies on Mr. Anderson's desk and headed back towards the front of the room where he liked to perch himself next to the teacher's desk. He was blushing ever so slightly from the compliments he received and the brief eye contact he had made with a girl named Misty in the back row.
Gator thought about Steve's explanation of his work and was impressed with it. He had to give credit to Rosco: when it came to photography he really knew his stuff. Gator thought momentarily about this class and the ideas that it gave him about his future. He liked the class a lot especially the creative part of it and the fact that Mr. Anderson always tried to bring out the best in each of his students. While he didn't necessarily see himself as a photographer he had learned enough about photography to have an appreciation for it. Could he see himself as a photographer for a career? Perhaps not but he was happy to have the chance to learn about it. He felt like he was on the brink of some important discovery about himself but wasn't sure what it was related to. He knew he wanted to be a writer. Maybe somehow this class was a step in that direction. It was strange to him that he was even having these kinds of thoughts. At his old school he had many different classes that taught him concrete skills like woodshop, metalshop, ceramics, and electronics. None of those really peaked his interest like this class had. Gator liked photography class. He liked Mr. Anderson's no-nonsense approach to teaching. He had something the students were after and they all wanted to be there so they followed his strict rules and matter of fact method of classroom management. Gator daydreamed briefly about what it would be like to be a world famous photographer and to have photos in museums or on the cover of Time or The Rolling Stone. "That would be cool," he thought, "meeting and photographing all of those famous people." He acknowledged to himself that it would be a nice gig, but somehow not a good fit for him.
The bell rang and Mr. Anderson reminded everyone that their nature black and white projects were due next class. "Class dismissed," he said. Steve was talking to Mr. Anderson at his desk when everyone except Gator was gone.
"What can I do for you Noah," Mr. Anderson asked.
"Uh, nothing thanks I'm just waiting for Steve," he answered.
"Oh you know Noah?" Mr. Anderson asked Steve intrigued at the connection out of context.
"Yeah he lives down the street from me," Steve said. "He's a pretty good kid." Steve looked at Gator with a smirk. He knew Gator hated being referred to as a "kid" so he gave him a little bit of snarkiness to mess with him a bit.
Gator looked at him and smiled. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Payback is a bitch," he said to himself.
Mr. Anderson picked up one of the half-tones from the folder in front of him on the desk.
"Here's one of his best works," he said handing it to Steve.
"Not bad," Steve said, "for a rookie of course," they both laughed.
Mr. Anderson stood up from the stool he was sitting on and said, "well I'd love to stay and chat with you two but I've got Togo's wating for me in my office."
"That's cold," Gator said.
"No actually its hot pastrami, at least for the moment. You two amscre." Anderson said.
Steve and Gator walked out the door and as soon as the door shut Noah pushed Steve into the wall and laughing said, "you got me that time. You are a real dick sometimes."
"Yeah I know," Steve laughed. "Hey do you guys want to go to the drive-in toinght? The Cobras are all going and it should be a blast."
"I'll check with Ronnie and see. But it sounds good to me. You driving?" He asked.
"Yeah I'll drive," he said.
"How much do we need to pay for gas?" Gator said laughing.
"Nothing just bring some buds dude. I know you have some you stoner." Steve laughed.
"Yeah, I got some primo from my bro's up north." He bragged. It was always a source of pride for him that he could get good weed from his friends in his old neighborhood. It was a mark of distinction being able to present the goods and to share them with others. Gator was a very generous sort of person and didn't mind sharing what he had with most people.
"Cool." Steve said.
"Cool." Gator said.
No comments:
Post a Comment