Bob the Magician

by
Rick Brown

Mathematics and I never really saw eye to eye. Oh, I can do simple arithmetic … pay the restaurant check correctly … enough to get by. Besides that, my wife Yvonne is an accountant. I haven’t balanced a checkbook since 1974. I don’t have to cooperate with math.

But when you’re in high school the authorities don’t see it that way. You have to pass a certain number of math-oriented subjects to graduate. So in the fall of 1968, I found myself in a geometry class sitting next one of my best friends. And geometry came easy to Doug. So I was hoping some of his karma might enlighten me at test time. Having just one good eye made cheating as difficult as studying, perhaps more so. I set my sights on a C … a D+ would suffice. I certainly did not want to use too much of Doug’s aura on geometry.

The teacher’s name was Bob. I remember his last name as well. But I am NOT going to be sharing it here. After you read what Doug and I … along with anyone else we could recruit …DID to this poor man … well … let’s just say I don’t want his family coming after me for whatever they deem worthy of coming after me for.

Geometry is quite different than algebra or arithmetic. It resides in a universe of shapes and abstracts. And many geometrical concepts are explained through scientific reasoning … specifically known as a “Proof”. And boy oh boy did Bob love his “Proofs”!

What seemed to be every day, we’d drift into Bob’s classroom, and sit down in our one-size fits all “desks” … you know … the ones that looked like ½ a pizza paddle attached to a chair. There … in big bold chalk letters … on the giant green chalkboard in front of us all … would be Bob’s “Proof” of the day!

Now … in my illustrious public high school career … I certainly struggled with one subject or another … usually still managing to pull out a solid B for the year. But there were those “special” classes where … after maybe a week into the semester … I was already so lost it seemed hopeless. Chemistry was so much despair I voluntarily flunked it to maintain a shred of dignity … or so my 17-year-old logic told me. Same with New Testament Greek in college. Hell … I didn’t get past the ALPHABET! Who knew Greeks had a different ALPHABET?!

But those are different tales for a different day. (When and if I DO tell them I promise not to switch alphabets on you.) Psi.

Most of the class appeared to be following along with Bob and his “Proofs” … including Doug. Not me however. I must have been 6 weeks behind by the end of the first week. And whenever I find myself in a helplessly over my head situation I turn to my finest defense mechanism: RIDICULE! Possessing an equally rapier wit … despite his obvious straight A grasp of geometry … Doug made it clear he was along for the ride.

The first thing we did was start referring to our teacher as “Bob the Magician”. Why? Because he wasn’t teaching geometry … he was performing MAGIC! Those of us in attendance not possessing supernatural powers were struggling because it wasn’t science, but MAGIC! And they were hardly “Proofs”! No indeed! They were Bob the Magician’s “POOFS”! The “POOF!” of the day! Doug and I spread the magical spell far and wide.

After about three weeks of this behind the scenes lampooning, word must have filtered upward in the high school social structure. One day Bob came into class with a particularly sober look on his face. He cleared his throat to address us. His demeanor reeked of a mentor’s dedication and responsibility.

“I’ve been hearing some strange rumors of late.” Bob earnestly invoked.
   
“… that what I do is not geometry … but …MAGIC!”

The front of the class sat stone silent while Doug and I … and a few other malcontents in back … tittered softly.

 “It’s NOT MAGIC people! Its’ GEOMETRY!” Bob passionately pleaded.

The back of the classroom tried valiantly to stifle our laughter … with mixed results … at the same time softly mumbling “NO! … NO! … IT’S MAGIC!”

After that Doug and I actually felt a little empathy towards Bob.

And that lasted about … oh … a week.

Then I got what my 17-year-old brain thought was a genius idea.  Since there was a nasty national election going on … and Hubert Humphrey was trying desperately to unite the Democrats and beat “Tricky Dicky” Nixon … I figured America could use a little levity. And Doug LOVED my idea.

We were going to run Bob the Magician as a write-in candidate for PRESIDENT of these UNITED STATES!

Doug and I began plastering small posters all over the school’s walls.

 “Bob the Magician for PREZ!”

 “Let’s put some MAGIC in the White House!”

We ended up shortening the name … to save time, paper, and Magic Markers … to:
 “Bob Magic in 68!!”

This campaign went on for weeks. Bob tried in vain to catch us in the act of poster plastering. He got so desperate he once ran up 2 flights of stairs to catch me in the act. But when he reached the top he was gasping for breath … and I had vanished into thin air.

It all came to a head when I overheard Bob talking to John … the assistant principal … while I was standing at my locker.

 “I almost got a look at him the other day John but there were too many stairs.”

 “Yeah, too bad. We need to catch ‘em in the act Bob. Otherwise there’s not much I can do for you.”

 “Any idea who’s behind all this?”

 “I’m pretty sure it’s that oldest Brown kid. Surprisingly … I’m usually one step ahead of him.”

Uh huh …

After I heard all that I figured we ‘d made our point … whatever our point was.

So we laid off the “MAGIC” … dropped the campaign. (Bob lost and ironically “Tricky Dicky” won.) Doug got his A in geometry.

And you know what? I managed to pull off a C for my final grade. Perhaps Doug’s karma helped. Or maybe … just maybe…

Bob was a magician … after all.