Free Love May Fail by Matthew Quick

your airplanes.”
    We did as he asked, and once he had all of the papers in his hand, he tapped the pile straight. “How did you feel when I announced that you were going to be tested today? What did you write? Be honest. You may speak when called upon.”
    A few kids raised their hands and said they felt betrayed, scared, worried, annoyed, anxious—mostly what I would have said. When Mr. Vernon asked, “How about you?” and pointed to me, I shrugged.
    “You can tell the truth, Ms. . . .”
    “Kane. I just told you that ten seconds ago.”
    “Forgive me. I have more than a hundred new names to learn, and it’s only the first day of school. But how did you feel when I announced the test today, Ms. Kane?”
    “Angry,” I said, too quickly.
    “Why?”
    “Because it wasn’t fair.”
    “Why wasn’t it fair?”
    “Because you didn’t give us a chance to study. We didn’t even know what the test was about. It wasn’t fair.”
    “Would studying have helped you today?” he asked.
    I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. I didn’t like it.
    “I could have read up on how to make paper airplanes.”
    “Do you think that would have improved your grade, considering the fact that you’re being graded on honesty today and not your ability to make paper airplanes?”
    I felt my face turning red.
    Mr. Vernon picked another victim—and in my memory it’s Danielle Bass. I see her red hair teased out wildly and stiff with hair spray, like Axl Rose’s in the “Welcome to the Jungle” video.
    “It was just different,” she answered.
    “And different is bad?” Mr. Vernon asked her.
    “Usually,” Danielle said. In my memory, she’s wearing black lipstick.
    “Why?”
    “Don’t know. Just is.”
    “Don’t give average answers,” Mr. Vernon said. “You’re better than that. I can tell. Try to be articulate. You can do it. You’re smarter than you think. All of you are. Trust me.”
    Danielle squinted at him.
    “Is it safe to assume that everyone found the idea of a pop test on the first day of class unpleasant?”
    We all began glancing around the room.
    “Don’t be such sheep!” he yelled. “Think for yourself. That’s the problem. Consensus kills art and intellectual progress! I could see it in your eyes. You were all terrified by the word test . Just four little letters. Ridiculous. But let me ask you this question: Have you ever taken one of my tests before? No, you haven’t. So how would you know what that experience entails, let alone if you would like it? Why did you all think it was going to be a bad experience?”
    James Hallaran called out without raising his hand. “We assumed it would be a bad experience because all of the tests we’ve been taking since kindergarten have sucked—emphatically . ”
    Mr. Vernon smiled and nodded. “I like your use of the word emphatically . Yes, I do. But if you are going to use sexual metaphors in my class, Mr. Hallaran, please be more original. Also, raise your hand when you want to speak, okay?”
    James nodded back, and I noticed that he too was smiling. I could tell he liked Mr. Vernon, and it was then—right at that very moment—that I began to realize we all were going to like him. That he was in complete control, and he had tricked us. James Hallaran was the first to figure it out. Maybe I was the second.
    Mr. Vernon slowly waved his index finger over the class. “You limit yourself with a bad attitude. Those of you who are lazy will blame the system. You’ve been conditioned to retch at the word test , no matter what the actual testing may involve. But it’s a choice too. You don’t really want to be Pavlov’s dog, do you? And that’s the point of today. When was the last time you got to make paper airplanes in class and then throw those airplanes out the window?”
    He looked around at us, but no one raised a hand.
    We were on unfamiliar ground, and while most of us were smiling at this point, we were still reluctant to speak before we