Different Perspective: Mr. Antolini

24

Holden was a former student of mine, a little rebellious. He didn't try to exert his full potential. Last night he called me, fear in his voice. My pedagogical nature instinctively told me to allow him to stay in my home, I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind. While I was waiting I asked my wife to put some coffee on for Holden. He arrived at our door late, about a half hour after he called. We heard the doorbell ring and Holden said it was him. I opened the door and greeted him.

"Holden m'boy! My God, he's grown another twenty inches. Fine to see you."

"How are you Mr. Antolini?" he responded. "How's Mrs. Antolini?"

"We're both just dandy. Let's have that coat." I took his coat and went to hang it up. "I expected to see a day-old infant in your arms. Nowhere to turn. Snowflakes in your eyelashes. Lillian! How's the coffee coming?"

"It's all ready," she replied. She heard Holden's voice and asked if that was him.

"Hello, Mrs. Antolini!" said Holden, very politely. You could tell by his eyes that he had a rough night and looked exhausted. He smelt of liquor and was without bags. I was ashamed of the room that I walked Holden into. It was all dirtied from when we had some of our friends over for a party. We had not cleaned up prior, because we had no idea that Holden was coming over. I apologized to him for the appearance of the room, but he seemed indifferent. All of a sudden my wife yelled something at me, barely audible, but she was very tired, having just woken up, so some of her words were slurred. Holden also smelt of cigarettes, so I thought it would be polite to offer one to him.

"Thanks. I'm a moderate smoker," he said as he took a cigarette.

"I'll bet you are," I said. I didn't really believe him. We spent a good while talking about his most recent failure, Pencey. I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to reach out to him as his teacher, just like I had failed to talk out that other student who was suicidal, James Castle. The memory still haunted me. I remembered that Holden liked English when he attended my school, so I was hopeful that he at least applied himself to that subject.

"How'd you do in English?" I asked. I was worried. If he at least passed this subject there may still be hope for him. "I'll show you the door in short order if you flunked English, you little ace composition writer."

"Oh, I passed English all right. It was mostly literature, though. I only wrote about two compositions the whole term. I flunked Oral Expression, though. They had this course you had to take, Oral Expression. That I flunked."

We discussed more about Pencey and about why he was in New York. He suddenly had a headache. He gripped his sinuses, to show that he had a headache and I asked him a question to contemplate. "Holden…One short, faintly stuffy, pedagogical question. Don't you think there's a time and place for everything? Don't you think if someone starts out to guns, then get around to telling you about his uncle's brace? Or, if his uncle's brace is such a provocative subject, shouldn't he have selected it in the first place as his subject- not the farm?"

"Yes- I don't know. I guess he should." My question must have confused him. He began to ponder and answer my question more when my wife entered in with the coffee. They exchanged pleasantries and she asked about his family. She still looked tired, so I wasn't surprised when she said she wanted to go back to bed. She left for our bedroom and we began to drink our coffee. We then talked about my having lunch with his father and how he had received a letter stating all of the things Holden had done wrong at Pencey. My cigarette was burning low, so I took out another one. I expressed my concern for his educational future, but he seemed disinterested. When I mentioned that he hated most of the people that he knew, he became very passionate in his defense. This was the first time Holden had broken his stoic-like nature and he said that he actually missed some of these people back at Pencey. It was really a heart-warming moment.

I poured some booze into my glass and put a large ice cube in it. I gave one of my meaningful speeches to try and convince Holden to change his reckless ways, but he must have tuned me out. Right after my lecture, he yawned. It was a peculiar thing, because although he looked tired from the very beginning, this was the first time that he physically showed it.

I said, "C'mon. We'll fix up the couch for you." He was showing more signs of fatigue now. We continued to chat as I put together a couch with the linens from a nearby closet. Apparently, he went on a date with young Sally Hayes, he introduced me to her a while ago, earlier that day. He was also planning on phoning a girl who lived in Maine named Jane Gallagher. Holden had made many plans, but it was hard to tell if he was planning on following through with any of them. "You know where the bathroom is. If there's anything you want, just holler," I said as I was heading towards the kitchen for a bite to eat before heading to bed.

As I was heading back from the kitchen, to my bedroom quietly, without waking Holden or Lillian, I noticed how peaceful Holden looked asleep. I decided to go over there and soothe him as he was trying to sleep. He looked troubled, probably from something that happened earlier that day, or maybe from being failed out of Pencey. I went over to him, and my paternal instincts told me to stroke his hair, like a father would, to help him induce sleep. I have not begot any children and I longed to have one, so this seemed like an opportune moment to see how I would be as a father.

I had only just begun patting his head, when Holden awoke startled and frightened. He started to look at me differently, sort of disgusted at me. I did not know why. Abruptly, he decided to head out to pick up his bags at a train station. I felt worried, not knowing that he would be safe or where he would sleep, so I attempted to coerce him to yet again slumber, but it was futile. We said our goodbyes, he left, and I have yet to hear back from him. He said that he would return after he got his bags, but he never contacted or notified me. Everyday I worry about him, not knowing what has become of him, but I still have faith in Holden, that if he tries his hardest at his next school, he could become a success.

I chose to rewrite chapter 24 in which Holden pays a visit to Mr. Antolini. In the novel, Holden makes him out to be a pedophilic type guy, but he could have just been a lonesome teacher, trying to guide a lost student on the correct path. This seemed like an interesting scene to give from another perspective, and Holden was so rash in it, that he may not have seen where Mr. Antolini was coming from. It also gives insight into Mr. Antolini's struggles as a teacher attempting to better a troubled student's life. He was also one of the only people in Holden's phonebook, meaning that Holden really must have loved him as a teacher. If Holden would have stopped to ponder the situation before abruptly fleeing to get his luggage, he would have seen that he was just a teacher, trying, like Old Spencer, to change his life, and improve his educational capacity.