WHILE REBELS SLEEP
By Mila A. Ballentine
Mila A. Ballentine Copyright 2012
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On the first day of school, Mr. Duncan made a point to tell them he was forty. He had gone gray by thirty-five but it worked for his profession. Besides teaching at Yellow Springs High School, he also taught an Advanced Poetry course at a community college. According to him, gray hair made him look more distinguished. He joked that ‘dealing with high school students had a way of sucking the melanin out of teacher’s hair.’ The morning rays pierced through the window, and his hair glistened when the clouds released the sun. Mr. Duncan had a habit of pacing from one end of the blackboard to the next. He was so tall his head nearly reached the top of the blackboard. It was hard not to notice his smooth tanned skin against his deep-blue eyes. The salt and pepper beard that sprouted from his masculine jaw line only added to his charm. Clearly, he was once a handsome young man with black hair. He stood still. A gray wool blazer draped his broad shoulders over a light-blue formal shirt. A red handkerchief peeped out of the breast pocket of the blazer, and if he wasn’t wearing khaki pants and brown loafers, something was terribly wrong.