MR. Krieger's Class

Sophomore year I had this Algebra class with a blown ass teacher named Mr. Krieger.  He was a Veteran and talked to us about drugs sometimes, “when you’re out there, you try everything” as he stared off into space.  I always assumed he was reliving the time he chopped off some Asian guys head a la the movie “Dead Presidents.”  I know what you are thinking, “you should have been in Geometry as a sophomore, you’re Asian.”  Fuck you.   

This particular class did not have the most motivated individuals.  The same guy on my hoop team I called “Deion” was also in this class.  The classroom was huge and had a linoleum floor.  One day Deion tried to sneak into class late, as Mr. Krieger turned around to write some long ass equation on the whiteboard.  He sprinted and then proceeded to slide across the linoleum floor like a quarterback avoiding a tackle.  Luckily his Goose Down jacket gave him some padding, but it wasn’t even quiet he slammed into his desk and it screeched.  Without turning around Mr. Krieger then said, “I saw you Deion.”  Deion’s eyes were visibly red from being high whispered, “damn.”

A few minutes later this Mexican dude yelled out, “Ayyyy, who stole my leather gloves?!!”  Mr. Krieger still writing on the whiteboard responded, “I’d check Deion.” Deion was obviously offended yelling, “What the fuck?  I just got here.” Mr. Krieger still writing with his back to us shook his head and said, “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah…I don’t know, I’d check Deion.”

Deion was pissed and stared viciously at the back of Mr. Krieger’s head for the next ten minutes.  I could only imagine, you come to class with a nice high and its ruined when you are accused of stealing leather gloves while you are wearing red batting gloves.  Deion sat behind me and when I turned around about twenty minutes later, I saw him doing something completely normal in an Algebra class.  He was shooting craps on the linoleum with the Mexican dude.  Not only was he rolling the dice, he was snapping after… as you should in any math class.  They weren’t playing for much money, but Deion was screwed he had hit a bad point of four.  I watched to see if Deion would come through in the clutch, as he shook the dice in between his batting gloves Mr. Krieger said, “I know you’re shooting craps back there Deion!”  Deion rolled the dice…crap out…7… as he angrily replied, “I ain’t shooting no craps!”  That's an odd thing to say when there are dollar bills on the ground and you can clearly hear the dice ricocheting off the linoleum.

My junior year I was the teaching assistant for Mr. Krieger and it would be Tuesday and I'd say, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to drop off my baseball bag.”  Then I would bounce and not come back the rest of the week.  I’d come back in Friday and Mr. Krieger would ask, “where have you been?”  I would be thinking damn, I’m about to get in trouble as I answered, “I told you I was dropping off my baseball bag.”  He would pause and look up at the ceiling before saying, “oh, that’s right” as he turned around to write on the whiteboard. 

Sometimes he'd give me a hall pass to leave the school to buy supplies.  I would take my time walking around Albertson's eating cookies without paying, or if I was feeling like a baller I’d stop to get a whipped creamed filled chocolate bar next door at Fancy Donuts.  That was risky for him though, I’m a frail Asian teenage boy with a caved in chest and you are sending me alone across the street?  I could have been kidnapped and all you would have found was a pair of blood stained Anchor Blue “Beyond Baggy” jeans next to my Jansport backpack.  They would have drugged me with heroine, placed a wig on my head, and I’d be the most highly requested “Thai Boy” due to my soft Jergen’s Original Scent moisturized skin. 

Robert OmotoComment