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Holden Comes to See His Teacher
Part I
“The Catcher in the Rye” by the American author J. D. Salinger may be the world’s most famous book about a teenager. The main character’s name is Holden Caulfield and he is going through the period of teenage rebellion. In the passage you are going to read Holden has just been expelled from a good school for poor academic performance and he has come to Mr Spencer’s home to say goodbye to his old teacher.
“Hello, sir,” I said. “I got your note. Thanks a lot.” He’d written me this note asking me to stop by and say good-bye. “You didn’t have to do all that. I wanted to come over to say good-by anyway.”
“Have a seat there, boy,” old Spencer said. “So you’re leaving us, eh?”
“Yes, sir. I guess I am.”
“Have you told your parents yet?”
“No, sir, I haven’t, because I’ll probably see them Wednesday night when I get home.”
“And how do you think they’ll take the news?”
“Well... they’ll be pretty irritated about it,” I said. “They really will. This is about the fourth school I’ve gone to.” I shook my head. I shake my head quite a lot. “Boy!”1 I said. I also say “Boy!” quite a lot. Partly because I have a Iousy2 vocabulary and partly because I act quite young for my age sometimes. I was sixteen then, and I’m seventeen now, and sometimes I act like I’m about thirteen. It’s really ironical, because I’m six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head—the right side—is full of millions of gray hairs. I’ve had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It’s partly true, too, but it isn’t all true. I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am—I really do—but people never notice it. People never notice anything.
“What’s the matter with you, boy?” old Spencer said. “How many subjects did you carry3 this term?”
“Five, sir.”
“I flunked you in history because you knew absolutely nothing.” “I know that, sir. Boy, I know it. You couldn’t help it.”
“I doubt very much if you opened your textbook even once the whole term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy.”
“Well, I sort of looked through it a couple of times,” I told him, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was mad about history.