Magnus, aka Madz,
A very Special Student 

By: Ruwen Rouhs
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

RRouhs@tickiestories.us

Short Introduction

My name is Magnus Felden, aka Madz. In my language Madz, actually Matz, referrers to tiny tot, a short, fat, gap-toothed toddler. A boy who doesn’t put his foot in the mouth and always smiles happy, even if has just scrapped his knee or sprained an ankle. At the beginning of the account I am eleven, going to twelve and eagerly waiting to become a teen. I am still short, that’s is halve a head shorter than my peers. However, the baby-fat is gone together with the missing teeth, but I am still happy even if I receive a check and fall flat on my face. Living with my single-parent family in a backwoods village, I want to get out and shape my own future. The following tells some events, shaping my live. 

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Chapter 1
Nicking Candies at Old-Witch-Drescher’s Shop

The mid-morning break had hardly started, when the seventh- and eighth-graders rushed to Miss Drescher’s store across from the school building. Stani grabbed me by the arm and Nikl pushed me from the back, “Hurry up Madz, you have to come along. As soon Old-Witch-Drescher notices you in the crowd, she will keep her eyes on you!  You are her number-one suspect, your eye-candy.” I fought back, “I don’t have a penny to spend on candies. And what more, if she spots me between the eighth-grader she tells Teacher Beck as soon he enters her store and later she tells granny.” “Come on, don’t chicken out. Do you expect us to spend money on candies? Naw! Never!” Nikl blared to drown out the noise of our school mates enjoying the 20minute break. Meanwhile Stani has succeeded to drag me to the entrance of the store and Nikl pushed me over the threshold into the packed shop floor.

I was well aware that neither Nikl nor Stani had any money to buy candies or buns or waffles or whatever. Like always they would try to steal candies out of the big jars on the left side on the counter. If I was lucky I would get part of the pilfer. If I was lucky,  they could get raspberry candies my favorite goodies.

Sure-as-hell, as soon we entered Old -Witch-Drescher’s store she noted me. That was no wonder! Only the seventh- and eighth-grader were allowed to leave the schoolyard during recess and every one of them was at least a head taller than I. Nikl and Stani were also fifth-graders, but the blond-heads had had the grows spurt already and hardly attract her attention between the older student.

In Old-Witch-Drescher’s store you could get everything you needed in a small village, at least most of it. Flour, salt and sugar as well as needles, pins, threads and buttons for the housewives and notebooks and pencils for students, and most importantly, all the sweets students died for. Did I miss something in the small store?  Sure!!! There were neither books nor comics nor newspaper available. The reason was simple. The only books she was reading were the bible and the hymnbook. She abhorred comics and she needed no newspaper, nor the housewives shopping there. She herself was the village’s newspaper, spreading the news about family disputes, suspected engagements and separations, maiden production and financial failures all around. And she was faster as the fastest newspaper could be.

The small shop was crowded by about eighteen of the older students. Nonetheless she discovered me as soon as we entered and tried to melt with the crowd. Spotting me was easy, not because of the blond hair of Nikl and Stani or my dark one, but because I was suspect.  Old-Witch-Drescher was prejudiced. I belonged to the no-goods, the people without an own house, the people without own garden, without own cropland or plot of forest. I was one to the expellee, of the newcomers, the strangers, the surplus left over by the war, the destitute.

Her eyes followed me where ever I went, giving Stani and Nikl time enough to pilfer the big jars with the candies. Why was I her special target? The simple reason besides being an expellees was that we, that is my mother, my grandmother, my sister and I were living in the parish house, as no farmer was willing to take in a family without father. Living in the former monastery erected anno 1595 was the other disadvantage, as she as well as some other bigots expected me to be the role model for the village boys. Nada, that wasn’t my idea of living.

When we left her store shortly before the bulk of the seventh- and eighth-graders, Nikl slipped me two candies, two raspberry candies my favorite. Immediately I put one in my mouth, the other in my pocket.

Old-Witch-Drescher and my favorite teacher, Mr. Beck had to be connected by telepath. Because as we entered the school he waylaid us. He snatched Nikl and Stani by the neck. Luckily, he had only two hands, therefore I was able to escape to the washroom. There I spit the half-sucked candy into a piece of paper and hid it together with the other one behind a pipe.

Then my luck turned. Mr. Beck, awaited me in front of the washroom. “Look into my eyes!” he commanded. As I did so, “Open your mouth!” Jipping, I opened my mouth and showed him my raspberry-pink colored tongue. “Gotcha!” he grinned. “Stani and Nikl got their fine already. They have to write fifty times: Thou shalt not steal! But how to punish you, as writing is not a problem for you? Let me think!” Suddenly I had a flash of inspiration and corrected him, “They should write: Thou shalt not nick! Stealing is much too criminalizing!” Teacher Becker began to laugh from the bottom his heart. Because the bell sounded for the third time, he ordered, “Hurry Magnus, Father Angler is waiting already. Your penalty? At first, I have to make up the fitting fine for you. See you later!”

All morning long I tried to avoid Mr. Beck. I actually liked him, at least better than our principal, Mr. Gerstle, or Father Angler, who teaching us also. My home-room teacher was young and had his first job in Gondersdorf! I knew that from my mother, who had it from Principal Gerstle. When we talked about him she added, "Keep in with him, at the end of the school year you need a recommendation for middle-school." She could have spared this advice, because young Mr. Beck was all right. I liked him and therefore I tried to give my best in class. I liked him better than the principal. But there was a special reason for this!

Clearly Father Angler gave me the best grades. First of all, because he liked me and secondly because RE, religious education, was really easy for me. Like no one else in my class I could remember the life histories of saints and the stories in the bible. I was even better at that than the girls. At the end of every school year I had collected far more diligence pictures than the whole class together. When he called on me, I could tell the bible stories word for word, at least almost. When praying at mass and devotions, I put on such a serious face that even prayer sisters adored me. Father Angler even tried to persuade my mother to put me in a seminary so that I could become a priest later. Fortunately, Mom was against it and Grandma even more so.

RE was still not my thing, even though I found some stories from the Bible exciting, for example the one about Moses. After all, who was abandoned by his mother in a wicker basket like Moses was, who was rescued by a king's daughter and finally escapes with all the Israelites to the promised land? Especially I like the story about the drowning of Pharaoh's army in the Red Sea. It was great! With mouse and man washed away by the cold and salty water! Marvelous! But could the sea on both sides of the path the Israelites took through the Red Sea rise to walls actually, so that they could get away on dry feet and then collapse over the army of the Pharaoh? To me, this seemed quite improbable! But miracles are supposed to exist. Perhaps at that time, but today?

However, there was something that annoyed me about Father Angler. On the one hand he was kindhearted. In the summer, for example, he always gave me cherries and plums, although Miss Elisabeth, his sister, the parish cook, didn't like it. On the other hand, Father Angler was my confessor! In confession he always wanted to know every detail. How often I had sinned against the 6^th commandment? What I had done?  Of course, how often had I done it! If I had sinned alone or with others? If had touched boys or girls? Nope! I had touched Boys! Yes! But no! I hadn’t touched girls! How could he come up with such a stupid idea! Did they boys participate voluntarily? Since recently, he always wanted to know if the other boys had participated voluntarily or if I had forced them to. What should I answer? What did he know about what went on in and after school? Grabbing other boys, that is, touching their willies, was not just a game, because whoever could grab the other boy's willie had the say. Of course, grabbing was also fun for me.

As Father Angler was my confessor since my First Communion, he had to know by now that wanking was my favorite past time. But he seemed to have forgotten that from confession to confession. The really stupid thing was, I always met him in the parish house after confession. But there he pretended to have forgotten everything I had confessed a moment ago. And me? I just ducked my head, played innocent for the moment and the matter was dismissed for ever. But had he actually forgotten my confession after a quarter of an hour? Had he actually forgotten what I had confessed to him crimson-headed? I doubted?

With Principal Gerstle it was a completely different story, a family matter! Two years ago, he had started to court my mother. Now the two were one heart and one soul, even if no one in the village was supposed to know it. Recently, Gerstle imagined that he had some kind of paternal rights with me. I was happy to put up with this on special occasions, for example at Christmas or on birthdays. Then he gave me books and such. For my last birthday, he even gave me a small camera, which was really great of him. But otherwise? Actually, I didn't like him because he knew everything better. Furthermore, I didn't like going for walks in the woods with him and my mom. Mom didn't like that I didn’t like to come along.

With the young teacher Mr. Beck, it was something completely different. Paul Beck was just over twenty.  He taught math, history, geography and German literature. In our fifth-grade class, he also taught PE, physical education, and sports. Since the sports hall was being renovated at the time, we now did our exercises in the schoolyard.

Mr. Beck enjoyed playing British Bulldog with us. He always started as catcher. When he caught one of us students, he would lift him up, twirl him around, and then put him back to the ground. This made the one a catcher also, who had to help him catch the others. When he caught me, he would always lift me up and tickle me until I almost peed my pants laughing. He wouldn't put me down until I yelled, "Put me down, put me down!" That was fun!

During the next two classes, I managed to stay out of his way. But in PE at British Bulldog, he caught me, swung me through the air twice, and while tickling me mercilessly whispered in my ear, "You know, you're not supposed to do that. You should not pilfer, not even assist the others, by distract Miss Drescher. Remember the saying: People who cling together, swing together. Shame on you Magnus!"

"But it's just pilfering and they are my friends!” “Whatever, Magnus! Shame on you! As punishment......," I noticed he was thinking frantically. Since he could not think of anything at the moment, he put me back on the ground, "Get you the punishment in the afternoon after the last class! I have to think of something special!"

At home I pondered the entire lunch time, what kind of punishment could he think off.  I couldn’t imagine anything! Absentmindedly, I wolfed down the fried potato and eggs until Mom noticed.  "What's wrong? Magnus, have you messed up royally or did something go wrong?” When I didn’t answer immediately, “Magnus!!!" I shrugged, "No, no, Mom!" At that, I blushed. But my sister squealed, "Teacher Beck scolded Magnus, Nickl and Stani. Everyone heard it. He pulled Nickl and Stani's ears, but my dear brother is the only one to get a real punishment! Now he's scared! Just look, Mama, how he looks cowed!" Under the table I kicked my little sister in the shins and hissed across the table, "Scared yourself, stupid tattletale!" and was gone before my mother could ask what exactly had happened.

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To be continued...

Posted 07/22/2022