Being a teacher in the New York City public school system must be one of the roughest jobs around, especially in middle school, or as we knew it “junior high school”.
Mister Spodeck had a rough and ruddy complexion, red hair, and was somewhat stocky.
He also had a very short temper.
He was my seventh grade math teacher who's face would always turn the brightest red whenever the class “did it” to him. And the class “did it” to him practically every day, and especially when he turned his back to us.
“Ok, I’m going to draw an obtuse triangle on the blackboard, who can tell me the reason why we call it an obtuse triangle”.
As soon as Mister Spodeck turned his back to us, and the white chalk started “clacking” on the green blackboard, it started.