The room went silent. Mr. Henderson didn't yell. He simply sat down, looked at the empty drawer, and then at the twenty-four faces before him. Without the book, the power dynamic shifted. The students realized that if Mr. Henderson couldn't grade their homework, they couldn't move on to the spring concert. No concert meant no trip to the city.
One rainy Tuesday, the unthinkable happened. During a fire drill, the classroom was left unlocked. When the bell rang for the students to return, the desk drawer was hanging open like a Slack-jawed yawn. The Answer Key was gone.
Mr. Henderson’s copy of the Essentials of Music Theory: Teacher’s Answer Key was more than a book; it was a shield. To his ninth-period theory class, it was the Holy Grail, the only thing standing between them and a failing grade on the dreaded Unit 6 Harmony Test.
The legend among the students was that Mr. Henderson didn't actually know music theory—he just possessed the only "Key" in existence.