Prowling meticulously aligned rows of desks he slapped heads, flung board rubbers and spewed invective. I sat in petrified silence, learning little about the Earth's physical features but planning spectacular methods of execution – evisceration by chainsaw, incineration by flamethrower and perforation by 44 Magnum.
Thirty years after escaping that classroom, I was driving through my hometown. A familiar, spindly figure stumbled into the road. Naylor.
The only thing I executed was a perfect emergency stop.