FIRST PLACE : FLASH FICTION
Streetcars , School and Saturday Matinees
FIRST PLACE : FLASH FICTION
BY ALLAN MACRAE
During my elementary school years , streetcars rattled past our classroom windows ; and those who dared Mr . Tinker ’ s wrath could watch them swing into the curve by the entrance to the teachers ’ parking lot . Mr . Tinker — Mr . T ., as he was known to his Grade Five pupils — had two firm beliefs . His first , good behaviour , was of paramount importance if civilization was to flourish . That we understood . But his second , that we were the barbarian hordes threatening that civilization was most puzzling !
It was not that we were intent on misbehaving . Rather , it was that no matter how good our intentions , our performance was marred and inevitably brought us before Mr . T .
And so it was that our experiments with streetcars far exceeded our expectations , although Mr . T . preferred to credit us with a Machiavellian ability far beyond our years ...
It was late October and we were under the spell of glorious Indian summer . The sky was a limitless vault of blue ; the days were shirtsleeve warm , yet
a hint of crispness hovered in air so clear that even the distant mountains stood out in hard definition . We were filled to bursting with super-charged energy . Even Mr . T . seemed strangely invigorated as he announced at assembly that for an indefinite period the boys ’ playground was off limits . Five of us glanced around surreptitiously . What had happened ? We were sure — well , pretty sure — that we weren ’ t guilty . We were now told that the boys were to be confined to one section of the girls ’ playground . Groans of dismay filled the hall .
Mr . Tinker raised a hand . Silence fell . We were not to , in any manner whatsoever , trouble , tease or torment the girls . We were guests on their playground and would act accordingly . Pausing , he looked down at the assembled boys , lingering for some moments , I felt , on me . Immediately , my face reflected what I hoped would pass as a saintly , beatific glow . Still looking at me and in that special tone employed by principals and preachers to instill a dreadful sense of moral obligation , he asked
news & views WINTER 2016 | 43