The Five-Foot Domain

A reflective, memoir-like story

   The question they asked him was, 'have you ever been the subject of a rumor?' If so, 'how did you handle it?' If not, humor us and tell us how you would in such a situation. Of course, plenty of us have faced such ordeals, to the point where we have to do the one thing almost no one wants to do but has to: be honest.

   Thus, I will go first. For purposes of context, some names and situations have been changed.

_____________________________________

   It was a random day at the office. The "office" being the school hallway where Mr. Hall approached Mr. Gonzalo. Other than a brief, occasional meeting between the two men here or there, there never really was any reason on God's green Earth the two would have or should have had dealings with one another. And that's how it should have been kept. 

   "Morning Mr. Gonzalo," Mr. Hall said. Mr. Gonzalo was standing nearby in the hallway, kids passing here and there, not giving much thought to others other than those they had to interact with. "Morning, Mr. Hall," Mr. Gonzalo replied back. 

   Mr. Hall, Mr. Gonzalo knew, was the 8th-Grade World History teacher who never came across as a popular or pleasant fellow to any in the campus. He was there because, for all intents and purposes, he knew his s**t (the content of the course he instructed) better than anybody. He was an established member of the staff--that was the extent of his likability and reputation.      In spite of his older appearance, short, cropped black hair, Harry Potter-like thick frames atop a round face and large, stocky frame, Mr. Hall dressed like a world history instructor might: a partially worn, buttoned down shirt that held no fashion appeal whatsoever matched a similar pair of partly-worn old khakis, typically either cargo style or just very worn. He wasn't known for wearing the latest, trending clothes nor was he a big guru in the area of apparel of professional attire. Basically, anyone who looked at Mr. Hall knew he was not considered a student of Tim Gunn's "Project Runway" fashionista showcase. Hardly. 

   But Mr. Hall didn't seem to mind nor seemed to give less of a damn about looking "the part" of an Educator of such content-heavy knowledge. 

   On that particular morning, however, Mr. Gonzalo didn't care about any of that. A guy in his mid-20's, Mr. Gonzalo dressed for his youthful demeanor: just out of college, having kept up some of his athletic, recreational activities, people liked him more than Mr. Hall for his adaptability and "please everybody" vibe. Never outspoken nor unsocial, Mr. Gonzalo was an intellectual who could contribute as much to a discussion as the next guy. Only, he would do it without raising his voice as he knew that would, in all likelihood of such public work places, spark some kind of unfriendly reaction. He knew better than to blast his opinions in others' faces just to ensure his opinions were heard and others' were not considered--he didn't believe in forced arguments. His perspective was of intellectual tolerance. And he typically left it at that once he knew what kind of discussion he was going to have with another person.

   So when he started his greeting with Mr. Hall, Mr. G knew from his tone alone what kind of discussion he might be having. 

   "Did you enjoy your weekend?" Mr. G asked, to be cordial and get the vibes from Hall. "Oh sure," Mr. Hall began. "Watched the game on Saturday, prepared some Tests for the kids today. I made sure the questions and material were tough and good." 

   "You sure it wasn't designed to be impossible?" Mr. Gonzalo asked, just to ensure the guy wasn't being too demanding on the teenagers roaming the halls, wandering their ways into his classroom moments later.

   "Of course not," Mr. Hall replied, a little defensive. He wasn't used to being questioned about his teaching practices, so long as his results were good and he could report consistent progress to his Administrators and other District folks asking about such matters. "Any time I plan, be it a lesson, activity, Test or long-term project, whatever, I always begin by asking what the most important pieces of learning I want the kids to learn are and how they should pick up those skills. After all, I have to keep the State standards in mind whenever I plan anything now-a-days. Otherwise, everything I do is in question, at least to an extent. You know about the standards and such, right? You're a smart guy. At least, so I've been told."

   Mr. Gonzalo gave him an understanding yet contemplative look. In truth, he barely knew Mr. Hall. He wouldn't normally speak to the guy, except that today, he was working in close proximity with him, so he had to deal with the demeanor for the next little while of his day.

   "Oh, I'm aware of the standards and such. It's kind of what guides this entire school process, isn't it?" He wasn't going to be upended by this older, look-at-how-wise-I-am guy he barely knew. His pride had nothing to do with it. His was just too bright for that and knew Mr. Hall wasn't the kind of guy who would tolerate someone like Mr. G speaking like he was idiotic. "I'm sure whatever you put on that Test will be fine and challenging enough for the kids but not so much to where they won't be able to complete the stuff."

   "Besides, it's not my Test to give. You know what you're doing. I'm not going to raise any concerns about it. I have other problems to worry about to keep me preoccupied." Mr. Gonzalo always had a way of choosing his words well to ensure his case was pleaded the right way and he didn't--accidentally--step on the wrong feet.

   "That's what I've always liked about having you around here," Mr. Hall replied back. "You always seem to know your place and aren't too proud to acknowledge it. You're probably one of the few people we have around here willing to be honest enough about things." 

   Hall seemed pleased to hear this guy wasn't overly arrogant; most young kids coming through the ranks of public Education thought they "knew everything" already or were simply too young and inexperienced to understand they had room to grow, just didn't want to admit that. At least, from the psychological perspective, being young and fresh to a profession that didn't always treat newcomers in the kindliest of fashions meant that those whom were eager to learn geared up for the long-term stay whereas the brash and cocky ones often got themselves on peoples' unfavorable sides and soon found themselves not working in those halls after not too long. Hall saw Mr. Gonzalo as a long-term-potential kind of guy.

   Because, especially in the public education industry, people talked. Mr. G found through experiences here and there that people in that industry TALKED a LOT: about each other, about work, about the good moments and bad and often vented with one another so as to leave those matters in the building before heading home. Nevertheless, though, Gonzalo learned that gossip was king, a natural part of the industry, whether he himself participated in such talks or not, be it listening or speaking. 

   Gonzalo, being the somewhat quiet guy he already was, didn't see the need to contribute to the gossip. He was more of a "handle business and leave it at that" kind of guy. He had no need for the small-talk and gossip that seemingly ruled his colleagues' lives.

   "Speaking of honesty," Mr. Hall followed-up. He was too intrigued in small-talk with this guy to ease up now. Besides, he had another two or so minutes before the bell rang and his room was ten feet away. He had at least 120 more seconds to talk with the young chap. "I heard something from somewhere that--is this right--you were considering being a Priest or missionary person not too long ago?"

   A good five seconds of quiet pause passed in the controlled, chaotic noise of the hallway before Mr. G could fathom looking at Hall. 

   How in the f**k did you hear something, anything really, about me thinking of becoming a Priest or whatever?, was Gonzalo's immediate mental reaction. He didn't dare open his mouth to speak any of those words. That would have been a sight to behold in gossip-land. 

   Slowly, though, Mr. G turned his eyes to look directly at Mr. Hall. 

   With ease, he replied, "Eh, where'd you hear that?" Sheer curiosity spoke for him.

   Mr. Gonzalo knew that this guy, Mr. Hall, would be among the very last on God's green earth to know anything about G's future career-like plans, let alone something as little-known as clergy or priesthood-like ambitions, which he himself was only "thinking about" from time to time. 

   "I don't know where exactly," Mr. Hall replied. "Or from who. I just recall hearing something in the room where Ms. Davis and Mrs. Winstead were having some lunch along with the other Mr. G, your dad, whose classroom is nearby."

   "I was strolling by for supplies from Mrs. Winstead and overheard something alone those lines."

   Mr. Gonzalo glanced at the clock hanging from the wall nearby. 45...40...35 seconds. 10:39 stretching to 10:40. Seconds away from next bell. Stall him for a few seconds. No way this older guy needs to know the random inner workings of my endeavors, let alone without me receiving any offers or acceptance letters. I'll humor him.

   "Well," Mr. Gonzalo replied. "Let's just say I was giving it 'some thought' for a brief time. When I attend Mass and such, as I have since I was a young kid and continued through college, I feel a sense of comfort and attempt to understand the spiritual guidance provided there."

   "It by no means implies I'm going to quit all this, or anything I have going right now, and enroll in a Seminary. I mean, I have a respect and admiration for Priests and Clergy people. But, like I said, it's just thoughts and a desire to know more. Really."

   Mr. Hall listened to the young blood and knew his honesty spoke for him. "Okay," he replied. "Was just wondering. No problem."

   And, with that, he left it alone. Being the one-on-one discussion it was, there was no need to make a bigger fuss with this kid than necessary. Mr. Hall knew he wouldn't get anything out of it. And, frankly, he wasn't really the kind of guy to want or need to start rumors about folks he didn't know better than he knew Mr. Gonzalo. That really wasn't him. 

   They left the calm end of their discussion in that five-foot square patch of waxed floor in the hallway and went to their separate rooms. 

   15...10...

   "Well, Mr. Hall," Mr. Gonzalo followed up. "Hope that Test goes well and the kids don't sweat too much." There was no beef between them, and he had not intentions of causing more psychological rift between them. It was unnecessary. 

   "Thanks," Mr. Hall said. "They should be fine. It's my Pre-AP bunch. They know how to apply themselves. After all, it is a Unit Test and we've spent the last week preparing for it. I'm not worried." 

   He let out a slight chuckle, as if his room was his world and no one could touch it. 

   Only, that five-foot domain ended in Mr. Gonzalo's court. He owned it. Then left it in peace. 

   They gave each other a slight pat on the shoulder, being guys and all they thought it harmless and appropriate, and parted ways, if only for an hour or so of the morning. 

Author's Note

Part '500 Writing Prompts' response, part reflective story, this is something created from nothing. Any feedback & review, tips and input would be appreciated and welcomed.