“It is hard to get him to learn,” I admitted.
“Well,” Mrs. Palmer said, “get him to learn. That’s your job, isn’t it?”
“My job,” I said as evenly as I could, “is to get all of the students to learn.”
Mr. Palmer expelled air and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know why they hired an alien to be the teacher. You better watch yourself, Mr. Fromlilo, or I’ll tell Earth to send you back where you came from.”
But aloud, I said, “I will endeavor to be more careful in the future.”
The next day, Mr. Greenberger called me back into his office. The Palmers had left him a rather irate e- mail.
“They tell me that you’re not doing your job,” he said.
“They told me that it was my job was to teach their child.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Mr. Greenberger asked.
“I don’t understand. Among the Tenjant, education is a joint effort, among all the people.”
“Look, some parents are more involved than others. Some take an active interest in their child’s education, every step of the way. And some—”
“And some just expect the teacher to do everything?”
He pulled his shoulders up and then let them fall again. “It’s their way.”
“I do not understand. Perhaps it is because among my people, we don’t even have parents.”
“You don’t?”
“Not in the way you define them. Yes, every child is born of a genetic father and a genetic mother. But the children of every community are pooled together, and cared for by one particular caste. It is the caste of which I am a part.”
He leaned back and stared at me. “Xerpers, may I ask you a personal question?”
“That is why I am here.”
“Are you male or female?”
“I am currently male. I will become female again in approximately three of your planet’s years.”
He nodded. “That may explain why you Tenjant have a different perspective on teaching and parenting than we do.”
“Perhaps. But it does not help me deal with John.”
He expelled air. “Look. Any teacher will tell you that in every class, there’s always one kid who makes teaching the class almost impossible. He’s disruptive, annoying, difficult to control—”
“That describes John perfectly.”
He nodded. “Well, take out that kid, and poof! Guess what? The class runs much better.” He shook his head. “The only problem, of course, is that we can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“We’re a public school, Xerpers. We have to instruct all children, for the public good.”
“But what if the public good is served in a different way?”
“It just doesn’t work that way among humans, Xerpers. Sorry.”
“Mr. Greenberger, please listen. I have read over your materials on what you call discipline. None of the techniques have proven to be effective.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Then use your own techniques, damn it.”
Instinctively, I bared my teeth, then I relaxed. “Pardon?”
“Sorry; I forgot that you guys don’t like cursing.” He paused, apparently waiting for something. Finally, I figured it out.
“It is all right,” I said.
“Thanks,” he replied. “But my main point is still valid.”
“I should use my own techniques to maintain discipline.”
He nodded. “You know why the program was created, don’t you? Cultural exchange. It’s a two-way street. The idea is for you to apply your culture’s techniques to teaching our children, as well as learning our techniques so you can bring them back to your home world.”
“Let me just confirm this. I am expected to use Tenjant teaching techniques?”
“Expected?” He barked a laugh. “Heck, you’re encouraged! Whatever works, man, whatever works.”
I pondered this new information for a moment. “I understand.”
“Good. Let me know how it turns out.”
“Good morning, children.”
Almost in unison, the class replied, “Good morning, Mr. Fromlilo.” The only one who did not was John, who sat in his seat, with his right index finger digging into his left nostril. He removed some of the dried mucous from his nose and placed it in a small ball on his desk.
“I have been told to teach you more of my race, of our customs. For example, how many of you have parents?”
Every child’s hand went up.
“How many of you would like to get rid of your parents?”
The children giggled now, John loudest of all.
“Well, among the Tenjant, we do not have parents.”
“You don’t?” asked Gabriel.
“Not in the same way as among you humans. My people do have children, but the children are given over to a specific caste for rearing and education. I am a member of that caste.”
Gerald raised his hand. “Yes, Gerald?”
“Is that why you’re our teacher?”
“Yes, it is. But I am more than just a teacher. I am a
The children laughed, and Gerald asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means that I am more than what you Earth people call a teacher. The members of my caste and I raise the children and improve our race by practicing a form of culling the herd.”
Another hand went up. “Yes, Jennifer?”
“What does culling mean?”
“Allow me to demonstrate. May I have a volunteer?”
Quite a few hands went up, including that of John’s. I called John to the front of the room.
“Watch carefully,” I said, “and you will learn of one of the many differences between the humans and the Tenjant.”
As I had done countless times in the past, I loosened my jaw, stretching my face as wide as I could. I grabbed John by his waist and shoved him into my mouth.
“Hey!” he shouted.
He squirmed as he went in, but of course the strength of the human child was no match for my own. I pushed him down my throat and swallowed him in one gulp.
With John eliminated, I expelled excess gas from my digestion chamber. “That is culling. It is the way my race improves itself. And now I share it with you.”
Silence.
“Are there any questions?”
The silence continued; the blissful, beautiful silence.
I grabbed my stylus and began writing on the screenboard.
“Then,” I said, “let us learn.”
THE LAST WAVE
by Kay Kenyon
HERE’S THE OLD woman again. She peers over the side of the rowboat, her white hair framing a face
