In late spring, I also had the craziest of things happen to me. I gained a photo groupie. A girl was hanging around after school, in Mr. Schwarz's classroom and really didn't see her in any of his classes. They talked for a while ,and then I asked what class she was in.

"Well, I'm in a Fundamentals of Art Class, but I am here to find out about Mike's Magic Darkroom."

"What?"

"That's what they call the darkroom here. 'Mike's Magic Darkroom;" and it seems that you do have girls coming in and out. People think things are happening with them there."

This totally be fettled me, if there was make-out magic going on that I was responsible for, I should have been the first to know. It sort of hurt my feelings, I had to think about what she was talking about, with girls walking in and out.

"Oh, the girls that come in and out are models that I talk to. When the darkroom is not used, I more or less use it as an office to plan shoots with the models. Really, the only darkroom magic that happens is what happens to the photographic paper itself."

She replied, "Well, I don't believe it. I still think there is magic going on with you and the models. I heard them indicate that. I have never been in a darkroom and would love to see what you mean about photographic magic"

"Who?" She wouldn't tell me. "I have no problem showing you what the darkroom is all about. I'm not doing anything today in there, but you can come back tomorrow and I will show you what I mean about darkroom magic." She agreed to come back tomorrow.

The next day, she popped in and I gave her a brief description about how film is processed, and then set up one of my negative strips in the enlarger. "Mike's Magic Darkroom," was also getting the best of me and I started setting up for that demonstration.

I went though how to use a grain magnifier for focus, cropping the print and making the test strip to determine exposure. During this she didn't catch me taping a piece of paper to the underside of the counter and down the drawers. To her, it was the neatest thing to put a white piece of paper in the smelly chemicals and have an image suddenly appear.

Now it was time to make the print, so I let her press the button. It was here that the other piece of the taped paper was now taped to my leg as well. I interrupted with, "You mentioned that you wanted to experience Mike's Magic Darkroom and now you will."

She had the strangest look on her face. "All I have to do is look deep into your eyes, get excited and I don't even need to use my hands for my zipper." I sort of had that Hannibal Lector hand movement in front of my face like he had when he talked about his liver and Fava beans. With that I took a step sideways and tore the piece of paper, making a loud ripping sound.

She fell down on the floor laughing, and when she finally got up, proclaimed, "Now I know that nothing is happening in here, you just too much a funny person for anything to happen." Now that statement totally baffled me. We continued on processing the print.

Outside at the sink as we washed the print, she just started chatting. "I can't believe that you aren't doing anything with the models, you have the perfect opportunity. Why don't you?"

"Well, there's someone in my life I really like and if I did that, I know that she wouldn't go out with me."

"Who is she?"

I know that the look of sheer terror came upon my face."I can't tell you, because every time I tell somebody, bad things seem to happen to keep us apart."

"You seem to really like her."

"Well actually, I am head over heels in love with her. My problem is, I get within two feet of her and completely fall apart. The big problem is, she does to."

"Working with the models and not doing anything ..."

"Can be a complete torture at times. I don't rule out spending time with them, but there has to be some real feelings for me to want to do that."

"That's neat. Mike, do you mind if I pop in from time to time and check up on you to see what you are doing?"

"Sure! Pop in any time that you like." I was shocked that her skepticism was now replaced with total admiration. She did just that, come in check things out from time to time, and we would chat for a while. I never understood this or why as her presence totally had me baffled. It would be fifteen years later that I found out though a friend; she was Jean's best friend.



I loved the teacher's assistant aspect of my school life, but hated when I had to cross over the line and become a teacher myself. Ms. Margolas was a new Fundamentals of Art teacher who was involved in a serious car accident before the start of the school year.

Substituting in her place was Mrs. Taylor, who was up to the task as she was helped with the curriculum and lesson plans that were supplied to her. To make her life easier, her classes were never told that she was actually a long-term substitute teacher and her classes were kept well behaved.

Ms. Margolas was in good enough shape to start teaching in the spring of the year. Mr. Schwarz sort of had a sick laugh and told me, "Hey, Mr. Mike. I don't envy her, for coming in. Her classes are going to be mad to find out that their teacher was a substitute and they are going take it out on her."

I felt Mr. Schwarz overstated things, but it was obvious after the first day, her classes were not only misbehaving, they were completely out of control. Ms. Margolas was an attractive teacher that was small and frail in build. The total combination, led to the perfect storm of rebellion, one she couldn't reign in.

In fact, I had more command over the class. Less than a week later, I walked into the darkroom and noticed three boys, futzing with tempera paint by the sink. Inside the darkroom, I pulled out one of my photography books and was seated, facing the door when one of the kids opened the darkroom door. Suddenly, the light trapping curtains opened and a bowl of tempera paint flung into the darkroom.

I made eye contact with the kid, who had a, "Oops," look on his face and split. I immediately got up and the boys were now seated, sitting like angels. I grabbed the ring leader by the shirt and pulled him out of the chair. Pointing at the other two, I yelled, "You're all coming with me to fix your fuck up!"

The boy in my hand yelled out, "Hey! You can't do this to me, you'll get into trouble."

I pulled him closer and with my face to his, yelled back, "Who the hell do you think I am, a teacher that can get fired. I'm a student that you pissed off and I'll only get suspended. When I come back, I will have fucked you up so much that I still will be able to admire my handy work."

Ms Margolas immediately walked up to me and wanted to know what happened. Not knowing her, I was afraid that she would handle this like the book and report the incident. "Ms. Margolas, they threw tempera paint into my darkroom and now they are going to clean it up. All things considering, I don't feel that any further action is required."

I took the kid in my hands and threw him into the darkroom; his friends had the instinct to join him. Following them in, were many sponges that I tossed at them, but I decided to carry in the buckets of water and soap. I made them clean the entire mess, except for the paint that made in on and in my favorite enlarger.

I stood over them like a Roman Overlord, until they completely cleaned up the paint. While I think they got my message, I told them, "I think I made my point with you guys and the class, but if you piss me off. There isn't going to be a warning." It took me another hour to clean the enlargers. I got a kick out of the boys explaining to me that they expected a darkroom to be dark.

The next time, I checked on the class that period, the boys were seated and looking like, spanked puppies. Ms Margolas showed me a nice, simple smile. After that I made an effort to make frequent appearances and watch them. I think it helped Ms. Margolas out quite a bit.

But the next month was her first evaluation and I knew to stay out of it. There was the Art Department Chairman, Mr. Pfeiffer and two people from the county. Right from the start, the class had a brutality about them, and was being completely difficult.

It was obvious that Ms. Margolas was panicking inside and the evaluators were not happy. I remained in the darkroom for part of the class, seething over this. However things got much worse, and I stormed out and stood in front of the class and yelled, "Hey, I want everybody to tone it down and start working on your class projects. Remember how I was two weeks ago." Everyone looked back at the evaluators.

"Don't look at them, I'm your problem now!" I sat on the radiator in the front of the class for most of the remaining period. I think the evaluators were looking at me more than the class or Ms. Margolis. I felt like crap and figured that I ruined her evaluation, so I approached the evaluators and asked to talk with all of them after class.

When the bell rang, they had us go into the next classroom. "I want to make sure that you all know Ms. Margolis' story. She was due to teach in the beginning of the year, but suffered a car accident and the class had a long term substitute."

"When she returned, the class got pissed off, and has been rebelling ever since. Now, normally they are not this bad, but I think today, they want to blow her evaluation. I think it is best to discard this evaluation and check her out again next year, when she has her own class."

"Well, you seem to have control over the class. How do you do it?"

"Two weeks ago, tempera paint came into my darkroom and I walked out and grabbed the kid who did it, and under threat of being beaten up, I made them clean it. They told me that I couldn't do that, but I reminded them I wasn't a teacher and even if suspended, I will still be able to come back and admire my handiwork."

"I know that is not the way that teachers are allowed to handle things, but I am the Senior Patrol Leader of my Troop, and although rare, sometimes situations have to be handled in this manner. I keep a watch over her class to make life better for her. Just let Ms. Margolas get though this year. She's had it tough enough already."


One aspect of my school relationship was uncomfortable with was with my quasi teacher's assistant position. I got a lot of personal information on both teachers and students, all of which I kept under wraps. In the morning, Mr. Schwarz informed Ms. Margolas that a student of hers had lost his mother and most likely, will be out of sorts.

Later that day, I was walking down the hall to another class and saw this boy who was in near tears. It struck me it was the boy who lost his mother, now made particularly harsh as the other students picked up on his vibes and were now avoiding him, now leaving him in a physical bubble as well.

To my utter astonishment, that bubble was broken by a person walking through it and grabbing the boys hand. It was Jean! Though not a lip reader, she asked him a couple of questions and the boy started crying. Without hesitation, she pulled him to her and buried his head in her breasts.

I thought to myself, "There's no way, you're going to let a rug rat be where you should be!" I approached from behind, as if to rip that kid from limb to limb. Maybe Jean knew me too well, she watched me, but didn't bat an eye.

I got within three feet of the boy, and couldn't hold the persona anymore. I busted out into a huge smile and gave Jean the thumbs up! Jean gave me a quick smile and motioned me to back off. I followed her advice, backed off and simply watched in admiration.

It was the funniest thing to me, when the boy emerged; he was still crying, but had this shit eaten grin that not even God would be able to wipe out! The next time in class, I couldn't help but view Jean in a new light. I spent the entire English class, mentally writing and memorizing the wonderful speech in her honor.

After class, I walked up to her and softly said, "Jean."

She turned around, damn if I didn't take one look at her lips and I forget everything that I was going to say. There was no way in hell, I was going to walk away defeated so I buried my head into her breasts, but only for a split second. It was if, someone had turned on a switch and filled Jean with electricity.

She was now standing there, vibrating with her index finger in the air, a v-shaped smile and fire in her eyes. Finally some words came to me, "Jean, I just want to know that what you did for that boy was a great thing. I always considered you one of the very few ladies in this school, but now I know you are!"

Jean just stood there, wrapped in a glow and a smile of subtle acknowledgement, but I wondered if she understood what I said. "Jean, I do consider you a true lady of this school and ..."

With that, Jean took off running down the hall, leaving me behind with my question. If I vocalized my thoughts, it would have came out as an ear splitting scream of, "God damn it Jean! I'm trying to ask you out!" I know that I always had Jean on a pedestal, but I now knew that she had wings.

I told God, right then and there, "Jean is the one I truly want to be with."


Normally the halls were harsh for me and I walked though them somewhat phased out. It is just the changes of classes, were not only a bit claustrophobic for me, my mind would attempt to latch on to the hundreds of conversations that were going on. I found this to be very disconcerting for me.

But one time, my attention snapped back to the hallway with the feeling of extreme danger was about to occur. I immediately started to look around a search for it. I found that Jean was surrounded by a group of 9th grade boys, who had her backed up against the lockers and she was scared.

You bet your ass, I was running to get to her. I was about ten feet away when one of the boys attempted to touch one of her breasts. To my utter surprise, she bit her lip and launched her arm back in a formed punch. I thought, "Jesus! If she lets go, she's going to knock the kids head off of his shoulders."

The boy got scared and ran away. His problem was that he ran past me, so I stuck out my left leg and with my left hand, back-fisted the base of his skull. This sent him to the floor making a loud slapping sound.

I immediately turned on him and noticed the look of stark terror in his eyes and yelled at the top of my lungs, "If I ever catch you doing that to a lady again, I will kill you!"

He immediately took off running. I turned back around on his friends and with an, "Oh shit" look on their faces; they ran so fast, it seemed they simply disappeared.

Jean just stood there, kind of laughing and said, "Jesus Mike!"

I walked up to her and made sure that she was fine. She was, so I told her, "What the boys did is something that I just couldn't tolerate. Maybe I over reacted because it was you, but things worked out for the best."

God, did I love the look on Jean's face. I continued with, "Jean? I wonder if we will ever get our acts together and go out, but if I am there when you need me ... My prayers are answered." In a sense, Jean was once again trapped on the lockers and tears flowed out of her eyes.

I left her there like that, even though I wanted to put her in my arms and give her the kiss that I not only wanted to give, but that she deserved. I have never figured out why I haven't, but sure feel stupid for not kissing her.