The Nine Times Table continued
9 x 6 = 54 5 + 4 = 9
The teacher removes her glasses and rubs her bloodshot eyes. Does anyone else know the answer, since she will not even try? Speak up! A titter of laughter from the back of the classroom. A boy carves a mouth on his face with the point of a compass. An eraser glances off your arm, thrown at a 70 degree angle of elevation. Remember, class, at night at night all cats are grey and any answer will suit the day…The teacher heaves her arms to the ceiling and the students sing-song her words in chorus. At night all cats are grey, but you will see greater things someday, oh the things you shall see, if you only learn to be…You remain on the podium, afraid to move. A shadow darkens the frosted window of the closed door. The room grows colder. You will go to the principal, young lady. You will see the principal before dark and she will set you straight…The teacher pulls the string of a light bulb which dies in a flutter of sparks. Stifling curses she climbs the ladder to change the bulb as you leave the room. How many teachers does it take…Nine, no doubt. And the sum of the digits of the multiples of nine is also nine…
9 x 7 = 63 6 + 3 = 9
The principal preserves herself in a tub of brine where a wilted houseplant trails its roots into the yellowbrown water. On the ledge is a dried piece of toast indented by three half-moon bites. The principal (she's your P-A-L) lifts her cellulite-pocked arms from the water and tilts your head forward. The clouded water obscures her naked flesh. I still believe in phrenology, one of the few true believers left. It got me to where I am now. The rest are fools, charlatans, afraid to call a spade a spade…She examines your skull with pincers and a protractor, tracing the raised white lines of your scars with her shriveled fingertips. Measure me as I measure you…Your hands dip into the tepid water to reach the rough skin below her hairline. There are soft patches, like rotten fruit. Feel my bumps? Marks of character, young lady. Determination, perseverance, mastery of metaphysics. Yours are the bumps of guile, obstinacy, mimicry. You cannot sense depth and connectedness. You cannot understand how it all equals itself in the end.
9 x 8 = 72 7 + 2 = 9
The principal points the pincers at your eyes, shakes them in repeated emphasis. In my day we had to memorize it all. Build from scratch. With only a table of values and a book of ratios. Now it's just a push of a button, flick of a switch. The pupils do not understand a thing. Contemptuous spittle from her pendant lips flecks your face. But you will stay in this school. There is nothing else for someone like you but to learn what we teach you…The water drips plinkplinkplink from the principal's elbows, echoing in the dampness. On the hard tiles your feet swell like bread dough.
9 x 9 = 81 8 + 1 = 9
Now the classroom is empty except for the ladder that leans into the mirror at a 45 degree angle, creating a letter A. You did not hear anyone leaving. How did they leave? The surface of the mirror is as unyielding as ice. The bare light bulb emits a dull electric hum. Were they ever there? After completing your test, for which you have finally found all the correct answers, you let your pencil fall onto the floor where it rolls into the mirror and is swallowed up. The sun is sinking fast, like the fast-forward button had been pushed on the sky. You lower the window shade. Once more you fall asleep sitting in your wooden desk, your forever home.
END