The Death of a Dictionary: A Short Piece

He read aloud in class:

“Dictionary. A book of words with their corresponding definitions.”

He shook his head, unsure of where he was expected to go next. He was the teacher. He had no clue.

He continued to read:

“…often including word origins, parts of speech, and pronunciations.”

All eyes were either closed or facing their scarred desks. He was losing them. He had to do something fast.

“Who knows what a part of speech is?”

There was minimal stirring in the back row and he assumed they were texting each other. How he hates that. He does not move, however, stationed as he is in the front of the room, behind the formidable desk.

“Ok, who knows what speech is? Mr. Kowalczyk?”

“Uh, dude. What you need?”

Young Ed Kowalczyk sits in the second to the last row, a spot of his own choosing, and he has spoken maybe twice all year. Both times were to use the bathroom. His voice is hard-edged. The teacher asks again.

“I was wondering if you knew what a part of speech was, Mr. Kowalczyk.”

“Dude, I thought you were talking about my dad.”

The class erupts in laughter. He has them for a moment. Now what does he do with the next one?

“I’m sure your father would know what a part of speech is.”

“Uh, no. But I know what a pizza is. You got any of those?”

Again the class responds with hilarity. This is the most animated they’ve been all year.

“A pizza is what?”

“Dude, it’s food.”

“But what kind of food? Where does it come from?”

The dictionary is left behind, its meaning lost in the new stream of conversation that has flooded the classroom. He closes the large, dusty book and begins to explain the glory of nouns, why they are so useful to us. He silently thanks Ed for helping to lighten the mood and he hopes he doesn’t lose the class again.

This is not to be for in the opposite corner sits Mr. Gracey, and his cell goes off at that exact moment.

“Class? Class?”

Sam