MY NEXT CLASS SAT WAITING, each kid leaning forward, fuses lit. I asked if they"d had a good weekend. Then it started. Raising both hands to hold off the onslaught, I felt like a rookie goalie at hockey practice. “OK, OK, settle down. My first two classes heard my story, but they weren"t there. You were. So let"s go over what happened.” For the third time, I told the same story. The class listened, ready to pounce when I finished. I took as much time as I could to run down the classroom clock.
Jason raised his hand. “Mr. Russell, if that"s all true, how do you explain the blood I put my hand in? It was wet and kind of red, and it came off on the handkerchief.”
“You know, I thought about that myself, Jason. I haven"t spoken to my friend about that yet. That"s a really good question. Tell
