"Joseph, pass out the blotting paper. Karl, I believe it is your turn to pour the ink." Both boys immediately came to their feet and moved quickly to the side of the classroom. From a shelf stationed close to the stove, the boy Karl took a large, brown jug with a double handle and a stained cork. During the winter it was important to keep the ink supply close to the stove to prevent it from freezing. He carried his burden to each pair of desks and carefully poured a tiny measure of the black liquid into each inkwell. The multiple black marks around each receptacle testified to the number of times in the past that this duty had been carried out less than precisely.
Each boy also received a one sixteenth section of a quarto of coarse but strongly absorbent blotting paper. This they would keep and use for a whole week's worth of lessons, by which time it was fully soaked with ink and was full of holes.
"Boys," said Mendel moving behind an oak desk that had once, a long time ago, graced the office of a minor noble, but was now showing signs of extreme age, "I have two special treats for you today. We have a guest, Herr Makyatta from Heinzendorf, who was my teacher when I was your age. Welcome Herr Makyatta, boys."
Dutifully the class rose to their feet once more and turned to face their guest, who had found himself a seat on the three legged 'dunce' stool in the corner closest to the stove. In Mendel's classes the dunce stool was rarely used as a form of punishment by embarrassment, so it would be vacant for most of the day.
"Good morning, Herr Makyatta," they said.
"Good morning, boys," Makyatta replied gravely, as he had done each morning for more than forty years.
"The second treat, I will leave for later. First, attendance." Mendel said as he took from a draw in the desk a large stiffly bound book of many pages. He inspected the steel nib of his pen and tapped the wooden end of the pen through the hole of the inkwell to break the thin layer of ice that was already forming.
It took several minutes to read the name of each boy from the book and for Mendel to carefully mark down their presence for that day. Makyatta noted with approval that, despite the weather, only two boys were absent and that, in each case, a formal letter of apology had been sent to school by the boy's parents explaining the circumstances.
"Now," said Mendel looking at the class through his gold rimmed glasses, "fourteen plus sixteen is thirty, and thirty multiplied by two is sixty." He looked down at his class ledger, "Master Liznar, you are pupil number sixty this week, let us see if we can improve your position. Take the number seven, multiply it be five and subtract eleven."
Pupil Liznar, a rather large boy with nervous hands, had come to his feet on hearing his name called. He now contorted his face as he performed the required calculation and his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.
"Without the protrusion of the lingua please," said Mendel gently, using the Latin word for the offending organ.