The Wave

Inside the men's room David heard the second bell ring, warning students that the next period was about to begin. He stepped out of a stall and was heading to the sinks when he saw someone and stopped abruptly. The men's room had emptied out and only one person was left, Robert. He was standing in front of a mirror, tucking in his shirt, unaware that he wasn't alone. As David watched, the class loser straightened some of the hair on his head and stared at his reflection. Then he snapped to attention and his lips moved silently, as if he was still in Mr Ross's class answering questions.

David stood motionless as Robert practiced the move again. And again.

Late that night in their bedroom, Christy Ross sat on the side of the bed in her red nightgown and brushed her long auburn hair. Near her Ben was pulling his pyjamas out of a drawer. "You know," he said, "I would have thought they'd all hate it, being ordered around and forced to sit straight and recite answers. Instead they took to it like they'd been waiting for something like this their whole lives. It was weird."

Don't you think they were just playing it like a game?" Christy asked. "Simply competing with each other to see who could be the fastest and straightest?"

"I'm sure that was part of it," Ben told his wife. "But even a game is something you either choose to play or not to play They didn't have to play that game, but they wanted to. The strangest thing was, once we started I could feel them wanting more. They wanted to be discip­lined. And each time they mastered one discipline, they wanted another. When the bell rang at the end of the period and they were still in their seats, I knew it meant more to them than just a game."

Christy stopped brushing her hair. "You mean they stayed after the bell?" she asked.

Ben nodded. "That's what I mean."

His wife looked at him sceptically but then grinned. "Ben, I think you've created a monster."

"Hardly," Ben replied, chuckling.

Christy put down her brush and rubbed some cream into her face. On his side of the bed, Ben was pulling on his pyjama top. Christy was waiting for her husband to lean over for their customary goodnight kiss. But tonight it was not forthcoming. He was still lost in thought.

Ben?" Christy said.

"Yeah?"

Do you think you'll go on with it tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," her husband replied. "We've got to get on to the Japanese campaign."

Christy closed the jar of cream and settled comfortably into the bed. But on his side Ben still had not moved. He had told his wife how surprisingly enthusiastic his students had been that afternoon, but he had not told her that he too had got caught up in it. It would almost be embarrassing to admit that he could get swept up in such a simple game. But yet on reflection he knew that he had. The fierce exchange of questions and answers, the quest for perfect discipline — it had been infectious and, in a way, mesmerizing. He had enjoyed his students' accomplishment. Interesting, he thought as he got into bed.

6

For Ben, what happened the next day was extremely unusual. Instead of his students straggling into class after the bell had rung, it was he who was late. He'd acciden­tally left his lecture notes and book on Japan in his car that morning and had to run out to the car park before class to get them. As he rushed into the classroom he expected to find a madhouse, but he was in for a surprise.

In his room were five neat rows of desks, seven desks to a row. At each desk a student sat stiffly in the posture Ben had taught them the previous day. The room was silent, and Ross surveyed his class uneasily. Was it a joke? Here and there he saw a face on the verge of smiling, but those were clearly outnumbered by faces at stiff atten­tion, staring straight ahead, concentrating. A few students glanced at him uncertainly — waiting to see if he'd carry it further. Should he? It was such an experience and so different from the norm that it tantalized him. What could they learn from this? What could he learn? Tempted by the unknown, Ben decided it was worth finding out.

"Well, okay," he said, putting away his notes. "What's going on here?"

The students looked at him uncertainly.

Ben looked towards the far side of the room. "Robert?"

Robert Billings quickly rose beside his desk. His shirt was tucked in and his hair was combed. "Mr Ross, discipline."

"Yes, discipline," Mr Ross agreed. "But that's just part of it. There's something more." Then he turned to the blackboard, and underneath the large "STRENGTH THROUGH DISCIPLINE' from the day before, he added "COMMUNITY'.

He turned back to the class. "Community is the bond between people who work and struggle together for a common goal. It's like building a barn with your neighbours."

A few students in the room chuckled. But David knew what Mr Ross was saying. It was what he'd thought about yesterday after class. It was the kind of team spirit the football team needed.