The Genius of Little Things Read Free Page A

that said Vagitarian sat next to me. He looked down at my paper and made burbling sounds that may have been laughter, or an effort to dislodge a phlegm ball. In the costs column of my chart I wrote, in large letters, right under low pay, incompetent owner, proselytizing, and commuting time , Riding Two Busses With People With Stupid T-Shirts Who COUGH Without Covering Their Mouths And Stare At You.
     
**
     
September 3. A partial list of tutees, past and present, from longest to shortest:
     
·          Levi Butler, a sixteen-year-old home schooled Mormon. Ongoing.
·          Eddie Kim, an eight-year-old hellion with mystery parents.
·          Danny, who lasted until he received a 95 on his science test. His parents had expected me to eke out a perfect score from him.
·          Nathan Niedermyer, a crybaby whose mother had some undiagnosed illness that caused her to hide in another room and bark orders at me.
·          Stacy, who absorbed nothing and spoke only to make obtuse jokes.
·          Sheri, Stacy’s younger sister, who insisted on listening to her iPod when I tutored her in English.
·          Eric, an aggressive ten-year-old who often tried to punch me. His mother cried because I was supposed to be Eric’s last hope.
     
**
     
The easiest solution to the money deficit was to entice former tutees to re-hire me. I called several numbers in my book, using my parent-pleasing upbeat voice that made me sound insanely happy. Conversations went like this.
“Hi, it’s Tyler Superanaskaia. I tutored your—”
“Super- who ?”
“Just Tyler. I tutored your son/daughter last year and I’m inquiring about his/her exam/paper/final grade/SAT result.”
One line was disconnected, one father said they were about to move out of state, and two mothers said they were broke. Another gave me a long story about how she got sick and lost her job and her husband left. Several people were not home.
I did reach Mrs. Niedermyer, whose son had trouble with pre-algebra, a worthless training-wheels type class. “You made Nathan cry,” she said. “You made him feel stupid. He’s just a boy and your words cut him like a knife.” She ended the call with “Thank you,” in a tone people usually use with the F-word.
I was left with no choice but to advertise. I printed a dozen fliers to promote my tutoring skills. Award-winning student tutor. Math and science are my specialties . I arrived at Firebird High early to put up the fliers in semi-conspicuous places. It took exactly two periods before they were completely defaced. On one flier, the - ent in student had been crossed out. Math and science had been replaced with bondage, domination, sniffing feet, eating underpants, and some swear words. I took down three of the fliers, but Principal Steve Nicks found the others.
He called to his office during sixth period. It was difficult to discern Principal Nicks’ mood. His atavistic moustache covered his lips. His eyebrows were also bushy and partly hid his eyes.
“So… Mister…” He was looking down at a sheet of paper. I knew he was trying to figure out how to pronounce my last name. Often people breezed past the first two syllables, and then slowed down, making odd mouth contortions. Ordinarily I would say my name before they could mangle it. But this was tricky. If I said it too slowly they would think I considered them dumb. When I said it too fast they thought I was casting a spell.
“Superanaskaia,” I said. “It’s Russian.” My explanation sounded like an apology.
“ Tyler . Is this your work?” He held up a flier in which someone had written on with black marker, I give great cunny lingus !
I told him the original text was mine but not the defacement. There was no point in lying. My full name and number were printed right above cunny . He scolded me for not placing fliers on the kiosk in the courtyard cafeteria. I apologized and promised to do so in