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HOLDEN COMES TO SEE HIS TEACHER
P a r t 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 Hold
en Caulfield and he is going through the period of teen
age 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
goodbye. “You didn’t have to do all that. I wanted to
come over to say goodbye 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!” I said. I also say “Boy!” quite a lot. Partly be'
cause I have a lousy 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 grey hair. I really do. The one
side of my head — the right side — is full of millions of
grey 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 carry this term?”
“Five, sir.”
“I flunked you in history because you knew abso'
lutely 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.