Perfect Class

He stood in front of the class and looked at them and was frankly revolted by what he saw. Nine students, eight boys and one girl. It was the last class of the day - the one he most dreaded. Small by any standard, there were only thirteen if all of them came, but that almost never happened. Attendance was unspeakably bad. Discipline was almost impossible to maintain. The students showed no interest at all in the mysteries of American History - all of them had failed the class at least once - just as they had failed other classes and been held back in school and then promoted whether they understood the material or not. 

They were all seniors - eighteen and nineteen year-olds - two of them were actually twenty years old - taking a sophomore class, and without it they would not graduate - not that any of them would graduate anyway. It was not what Marcus Kopetski had imagined when he decided to become a teacher, and not what he had hoped for when he secured his first job at an inner-city high school. At twenty-four, he was only a few years older than some of the students. He was six months into his first position, and he hated it - every minute of it. And this last class of the day was the worst.

They were studying the Civil War. Not that any of them actually understood what the Civil War was all about - or when it happened, or who won. That was well beyond the grasp of any of the nine who sat with blank expressions listening to Mr. Kopetski, who all of them called simply ‘Mr. K,’ drone on about slavery and states’ rights and other concepts that might just as well have come directly from Mars.

”Now,” Marcus said hopefully, “Did any of you read the text book assignment last night?”

Hesitating, two students, one of the boys and the girl, sort-of raised their hands.

”It was hard,” complained the girl. “I didn’t understand nothin’.”

”I had a question,” said the boy.

Marcus noted that the others were watching more closely than usual.

”Yeah,” said the teacher wondering what was coming next. “Go ahead.”

”Well,” he said opening the book which he had actually brought with him. “It says here that a favorite punishment among the armies of the North and the South during the Civil War was something called ‘bucking and gagging.’ What was that? I don’t understand.”

Marcus stood still for a second. This was a favorite ploy of the students - when they did anything at all - one of them would find some obscure word or fact and ask him about it. Then all of them waited for him to confess that he didn’t know the answer. The students loved it, and they frequently tortured him with such esoteric questions. “I don’t know,” he said finally. 
”But” he hurried to add seeing the smug looks on all the faces, “I’m sure we can find out.”

”Mr. K,” said one of the boys, “If we can find the answer, can we get extra credit?”

”Sure,” he offered.

”Can we do a demonstration?” asked another boy.

”Why not?” said Marcus, happy to be off the hook.

The rest of the class was back to normal. Finally, to the relief of all, the bell rang and the nine left.  Marcus Kopetski picked up his things and walked out of his classroom, beaten again by the blatant indifference of passive-resistive students. It was a lost cause, he told himself. He was wasting his time. He had a date that night with his fiancé. That, at least, was something to look forward to. A bright spot in his life.

The evening went well, but the next day it was back in the classroom and the same torture all over again. He marched through the classes, the lunchroom duty, his prep period, and finally that horrific last period class. Amazingly, almost everyone was there that day. Only one student, who was probably in jail, wasn’t there. Marcus started the class by reviewing a few facts about the Civil War when one boy interrupted him.

”Mr. K, we have a report to give about our question that we asked you yesterday.”

”What was the question?” he said having dismissed the whole thing.

”We wanted to know what ‘bucking and gagging’ meant.”

”And did you find out?”

”Sure,” said the young man standing. “We looked it up on the internet in the library. We found almost thirty sites that talk about it. Can we show you what we found?”

”Why not,” said Marcus, delighted that the students had done something for a change.

Two boys walked to the front of the room while the rest sat carefully watching. One of the boys had a sheet of paper. He looked at Marcus and said, “As I read, Jose here will demonstrate. Can we use you as a model Mr. K?

”Sure.”

He showed Mr. K a paper with the text and the web site address
(http://www.olde-towne.net/vssa/archive/Paxton97.txt)
and then he began to read, “This form of punishment consisted of tying a soldier’s hands and wrists....”

The second boy produced a piece or rope and went up to Marcus. Marcus obliged by holding out his hands which the boy tied in front of him. 

”Now, Mr. K, you need to sit up here on the table for this,” said the second boy. Somewhat reluctant, but with his hands tied, Marcus perched himself on the table in front of the class.

The first boy continued, “...slipping his hands over his knees...”

The second boy helped Marcus put his arms down around his bent knees, his tied wrists in front of his ankles. 

”...and then placing a rifle or stick under the knees and over the elbows.”

The second boy picked up a rod that he had near his desk, walked back and stuck it under Marcus’ knees and over his bent elbows.

”Another stick or bayonet was placed in the soldier’s mouth and fastened securely with rope.”

The second boy walked back to his desk and picked up a second rod and rope, and returned to Mr. Kopetski.

”I don’t think we need to demonstrate the gag,” said Marcus.

”You said we could show what bucking and gagging meant,” insisted the boy. “Now cooperate.”

Kopetski reluctantly opened his mouth and the boy drew in the rod between his teeth, then used the rope to secure it in place firmly tying it around and around his head.

”Bucking and gagging was carried out for an entire day or over the course of several successive days,” said the reader putting down the paper and looking at his teacher who was now sitting ‘bucked and gagged’ on the table. “What do you think, Mr. K, do we get extra credit?”

Kopetski nodded his head.

Turning to the class, the boy who had read the paper asked, “Should he remain bucked and gagged for a day or for several days?”

Kopetski turned ashen as the class all agreed, ”Several days!”

”Arggggg gggrrrrrr grrrr,” Marcus managed through the wooden gag.

”We don’t understand, Mr. K,” laughed the boy. “But you’ll be happy to know that there is more. We found another web site that says they actually sang songs to the men who were bucked and gagged.
(http://www.ku.edu/carrie/kancoll/khq/1932/32_3_root.htm
Here, I’ll read what it said” The boy went to his desk and brought up another piece of paper. “It is titled ‘BUCKING AND GAGGING.’ Come, all Yankee soldiers, give ear to my song; It is a short ditty, it will not keep you long; It’s of no use to fret on account of your luck, We can laugh, drink and sing yet in spite of the buck.”

The boy turned and looked at Mr. K who was watching wondering what would come nest.

”They actually had a chorus and verses,” he smiled.  ”Here’s the Chorus which doesn’t make much sense: ’Dary down, dary down, dary down day.’”

”Then there’s another verse: ‘Sergeant, buck him and gag him, our officers cry, For such trifling offenses they happen to spy; Till with bucking and gagging of Dick, Tom and Bill, Faith! the Mexican ranks they have helped to fill.’”

”Then they sang the chorus again.”

”Here’s the last verse: ‘The treatment they give us, as all of us know, Is bucking and gagging for whipping the foe; They buck us and they gag us for malice or for spite, And they never release us despite our poor plight’ chorus again, and ‘A poor soldier’s tied up in the sun or the rain With a gag in his mouth till he’s tortured with pain; Why, I’m blest! if the eagle we wear on our flag In its claws shouldn’t carry a buck and a gag.’ and then they sang the chorus one more time.”

”Isn’t that neat?” asked the boy who had actually bound Mr. K.

”Arrggggg,” managed Marcus nodding his head.

The two boys returned to their seats leaving their teacher ‘bucked and gagged on the table in front of the room. One of them finally said, “Mr. K, why don’t you tell us what you think of this punishment?”

Marcus grunted into the gag that they should untie him, but they all just sat there and stared at him. They sat until the bell rang and then they left the room, turned off the lights and closed the door behind them.

Marcus Kopetski sat on the table afraid to squirm around much for fear of falling. The gag hurt his mouth. The boy had tied his hands well, he couldn’t reach the knots, his legs were pinned between his arms, and despite efforts on his part, he could not dislodge the rod that held them there. The room grew dark and night came. Since the cut-backs in custodians, nobody cleaned the rooms in the evening, so Kopetski sat there waiting for what - for students to return the next day? Then, when he resigned himself to the torture of a night bound up in his classroom, the door opened and Sandra walked in.

”Marcus,” she shouted when she turned on the lights and saw him on the table. 

Quickly she released the gag and pulled out the rod. He was stiff, but managed to get off the table and walk around loosening his joints. She explained that when he didn’t show up at her parents for dinner that night, she had gone looking for him. Checking the school to see if he had forgotten the date and was working late was her last stop.

”I hate them,” he said again and again. “The worthless little bastards set me up and then left me all tied up. I hate them. I’m going to quit this damn job.”

”You should,” she said. “I’ve told you that again and again. Come to work with my father - he’s said many times he would have a good job for you.”

”I guess I will,” said Marcus, “but first, it’s get even time. And tomorrow you’re going to help me. It will be my finale with this worthless bunch.”

All day long the next day students looked at Mr. K and smirked - the story of how the last class had tied him up had circulated for sure, and the young teacher was clearly the butt of many jokes. When the final period arrived, Marcus Kopetski sat in the chair at the front of the class as the students came into the room.  Sandra sat in a chair in the back corner. The students noticed the stranger, but didn’t say much.

When everyone was there, and again oddly all of the class arrived except the boy who remained in jail, Marcus stood and introduced Sandra. She stood and moved to the door where she stood quietly. 

”Now,” said Marcus, “we need to discuss yesterday.”

The students snickered.

”You will note that Sandra is holding a gun, and so am I.”

The snickering stopped. The room was quiet except for heavy breathing.

”On your feet, boys. You girls stay seated.”

Nine boys stood while two girls sat quietly, fear showing on their faces. Had the teacher gone mad?  Would he shoot them? There had been so many school shootings and nobody knew what it would take to push someone over the edge.

”Boys, strip!”

They looked at him blankly, not understanding.

”I said, strip. Take off all of your clothes.”

Slowly all nine boys removed their clothes until they stood there naked.

Marcus opened a bag and brought out lengths of rope.  He slowly tied each boy’s wrists while Sandra held the gun steadily pointing it at them and warning everyone to stand still or she was quite prepared to shoot.  There was a ladder by the side of the room. Marcus set it up near the first boys, took the rope from one of their wrists and stretched it up to the light fixture in the ceiling causing the boy to raise his arms up over his head. Moving from one to the other, soon Marcus had all nine boys standing with his arms tied to the ceiling fixtures. Next, Marcus took duct tape and taped their mouths, wrapping each head with multiple layers of the sticky silver tape. Satisfied that the boys were securely bound, he carefully took all of their clothes and threw them out the window to the ground one floor below. Finally, he took more rope and started with the boy on the end, tied his ankle to that of the boy next to him. He continued until all nine had one or both of their ankles secured causing them to stand with their legs wide apart. The end boys had their outer ankles tied to chairs at the side of the room.

Next Marcus and Sandra sat the two girls in chairs facing the bound nude boys. They tied the girls to the chairs securely, and taped their mouths.

”It’s been fun working with you,” said Marcus when the job was done. “I do hope you will remember me and all that I taught you about American History. This is my last day here. I’m sure that when you are freed, eventually, none of you will complain about this. If you do, I’ll have to press charges over what happened yesterday, and all of us will lose. Now we’re even, so to speak.”

Marcus and Sandra stood looking at the eleven students. Nine naked boys strung up, bound, and gagged and fully exposed in front of two girls. What a humiliation for them - their machismo demolished completely. Although tied up, it was somewhat clear that the girls were enjoying the event. They would tell everyone in the school how much fun it was seeing the jerks embarrased that way.

”I hate to leave,” said Marcus to Sandra. “This is certainly the perfect class.” He never went back, and he never heard anything more about it which was just fine with him.
 
 

08.05.02