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# Chapter 2 of *The Catcher in the Rye* ## Overview This entity is a chapter from the novel *The Catcher in the Rye* by J.D. Salinger, specifically Chapter 2, identified by its label "2" and spanning lines 137 to 378 of the source text. It is part of a larger digital collection titled [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS), which includes canonical literary works. The chapter was extracted from a PDF file and divided into six smaller text chunks for processing. ## Context The chapter is narrated by Holden Caulfield, a sixteen-year-old student at Pencey Prep, shortly before his expulsion. It recounts his visit to the home of Mr. Spencer, his elderly history teacher, who is ill and confined to his room. The interaction takes place during a transitional moment in Holden’s life, as he prepares to leave school and return home, facing the prospect of disappointing his parents. The chapter is embedded within a digital archive that preserves and structures classic literature for access and analysis. ## Contents The chapter centers on Holden’s uncomfortable conversation with Mr. Spencer, who lectures him about responsibility and the importance of following rules in life. Holden reflects on the teacher’s frailty and poor health, describing his messy room, ratty bathrobe, and habit of yelling. The discussion turns to Holden’s academic failure, particularly in history, and Mr. Spencer reads aloud Holden’s flippant note from the bottom of his exam, which deeply embarrasses him. Throughout, Holden’s internal monologue reveals his disdain for adult hypocrisy—what he calls “phoniness”—and his struggle with identity, maturity, and alienation. He also reflects on previous schools he has attended, including Elkton Hills, which he left due to the insincerity of its headmaster. The chapter ends with Holden’s hasty departure, feeling both pity and impatience toward Mr. Spencer, and contemplating the ducks in Central Park, a recurring symbol of his anxiety about change and disappearance.

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Chapter 2 of *The Catcher in the Rye*

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378

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130 2 131 They each had their own room and all. They were both around seventy years old, 132 or even more than that. They got a bang out of things, though--in a haif-assed way, of 133 course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. I just mean that I used 134 to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you 135 wondered what the heck he was still living for. I mean he was all stooped over, and he 136 had very terrible posture, and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the 137 blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to 138 him. That's awful, in my opinion. But if you thought about him just enough and not too 139 much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. For instance, one 140 Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this 141 old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Spencer'd bought off some Indian in 142 Yellowstone Park. You could tell old Spencer'd got a big bang out of buying it. That's 143 what I mean. You take somebody old as hell, like old Spencer, and they can get a big 144 bang out of buying a blanket. 145 His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all. I 146 could see where he was sitting. He was sitting in a big leather chair, all wrapped up in 147 that blanket I just told you about. He looked over at me when I knocked. "Who's that?" he 148 yelled. "Caulfield? Come in, boy." He was always yelling, outside class. It got on your 149 nerves sometimes. 150 The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry I'd come. He was reading the Atlantic 151 Monthly, and there were pills and medicine all over the place, and everything smelled 152 like Vicks Nose Drops. It was pretty depressing. I'm not too crazy about sick people, 153 anyway. What made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad, ratty old 154 bathrobe that he was probably born in or something. I don't much like to see old guys in 155 their pajamas and bathrobes anyway. Their bumpy old chests are always showing. And 156 their legs. Old guys' legs, at beaches and places, always look so white and unhairy. 157 "Hello, sir," I said. "I got your note. Thanks a lot." He'd written me this note asking me to 158 stop by and say good-by before vacation started, on account of I wasn't coming back. 159 "You didn't have to do all that. I'd have come over to say good-by anyway." 160 "Have a seat there, boy," old Spencer said. He meant the bed. 161 I sat down on it. "How's your grippe, sir?" 162 "M'boy, if I felt any better I'd have to send for the doctor," old Spencer said. That 163 knocked him out. He started chuckling like a madman. Then he finally straightened 164 himself out and said, "Why aren't you down at the game? I thought this was the day of the 165 big game." 166 "It is. I was. Only, I just got back from New York with the fencing team," I said. 167 Boy, his bed was like a rock. 168 He started getting serious as hell. I knew he would. "So you're leaving us, eh?" he 169 said. 170 "Yes, sir. I guess I am." 171 He started going into this nodding routine. You never saw anybody nod as much 172 in your life as old Spencer did. You never knew if he was nodding a lot because he was 173 thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy that didn't know his ass from his 174 elbow. <!-- [Page 5](arke:01KFYTAC2WQWDM14BMP5A2K2EZ) --> 175 "What did Dr. Thurmer say to you, boy? I understand you had quite a little chat." 176 "Yes, we did. We really did. I was in his office for around two hours, I guess." 177 "What'd he say to you?" 178 "Oh. . . well, about Life being a game and all. And how you should play it 179 according to the rules. He was pretty nice about it. I mean he didn't hit the ceiling or 180 anything. He just kept talking about Life being a game and all. You know." 181 "Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules." 182 "Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it." 183 Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then 184 it's a game, all right--I'll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren't 185 any hot-shots, then what's a game about it? Nothing. No game. "Has Dr. Thurmer written 186 to your parents yet?" old Spencer asked me. 187 "He said he was going to write them Monday." 188 "Have you yourself communicated with them?" 189 "No, sir, I haven't communicated with them, because I'll probably see them 190 Wednesday night when I get home." 191 "And how do you think they'll take the news?" 192 "Well. . . they'll be pretty irritated about it," I said. "They really will. This is about 193 the fourth school I've gone to." I shook my head. I shake my head quite a lot. "Boy!" I 194 said. I also say "Boy!" quite a lot. Partly because I have a lousy vocabulary and partly 195 because I act quite young for my age sometimes. I was sixteen then, and I'm seventeen 196 now, and sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot 197 two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head--the right side-- 198 is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act 199 sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's 200 partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a 201 damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I 202 act a lot older than I am--I really do--but people never notice it. People never notice 203 anything. 204 Old Spencer started nodding again. He also started picking his nose. He made out 205 like he was only pinching it, but he was really getting the old thumb right in there. I guess 206 he thought it was all right to do because it was only me that was in the room. I didn't care, 207 except that it's pretty disgusting to watch somebody pick their nose. 208 Then he said, "I had the privilege of meeting your mother and dad when they had 209 their little chat with Dr. Thurmer some weeks ago. They're grand people." 210 "Yes, they are. They're very nice." 211 Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phony. I could puke every time I hear it. 212 Then all of a sudden old Spencer looked like he had something very good, 213 something sharp as a tack, to say to me. He sat up more in his chair and sort of moved 214 around. It was a false alarm, though. All he did was lift the Atlantic Monthly off his lap 215 and try to chuck it on the bed, next to me. He missed. It was only about two inches away, 216 but he missed anyway. I got up and picked it up and put it down on the bed. All of a 217 sudden then, I wanted to get the hell out of the room. I could feel a terrific lecture coming 218 on. I didn't mind the idea so much, but I didn't feel like being lectured to and smell Vicks 219 Nose Drops and look at old Spencer in his pajamas and bathrobe all at the same time. I 220 really didn't. <!-- [Page 6](arke:01KFYTAC5ECYY3S6R0PK59NJ9C) --> 221 It started, all right. "What's the matter with you, boy?" old Spencer said. He said it 222 pretty tough, too, for him. "How many subjects did you carry this term?" 223 "Five, sir." 224 "Five. And how many are you failing in?" 225 "Four." I moved my ass a little bit on the bed. It was the hardest bed I ever sat on. 226 "I passed English all right," I said, "because I had all that Beowulf and Lord Randal My 227 Son stuff when I was at the Whooton School. I mean I didn't have to do any work in 228 English at all hardly, except write compositions once in a while." 229 He wasn't even listening. He hardly ever listened to you when you said 230 something. 231 "I flunked you in history because you knew absolutely nothing." 232 "I know that, sir. Boy, I know it. You couldn't help it." 233 "Absolutely nothing," he said over again. That's something that drives me crazy. 234 When people say something twice that way, after you admit it the first time. Then he said 235 it three times. "But absolutely nothing. I doubt very much if you opened your textbook 236 even once the whole term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy." 237 "Well, I sort of glanced through it a couple of times," I told him. I didn't want to 238 hurt his feelings. He was mad about history. 239 "You glanced through it, eh?" he said--very sarcastic. "Your, ah, exam paper is 240 over there on top of my chiffonier. On top of the pile. Bring it here, please." 241 It was a very dirty trick, but I went over and brought it over to him--I didn't have 242 any alternative or anything. Then I sat down on his cement bed again. Boy, you can't 243 imagine how sorry I was getting that I'd stopped by to say good-by to him. 244 He started handling my exam paper like it was a turd or something. "We studied 245 the Egyptians from November 4th to December 2nd," he said. "You chose to write about 246 them for the optional essay question. Would you care to hear what you had to say?" 247 "No, sir, not very much," I said. 248 He read it anyway, though. You can't stop a teacher when they want to do 249 something. They just do it. 250 The Egyptians were an ancient race of Caucasians residing in 251 one of the northern sections of Africa. The latter as we all 252 know is the largest continent in the Eastern Hemisphere. 253 I had to sit there and listen to that crap. It certainly was a dirty trick. 254 The Egyptians are extremely interesting to us today for 255 various reasons. Modern science would still like to know what 256 the secret ingredients were that the Egyptians used when they 257 wrapped up dead people so that their faces would not rot for 258 innumerable centuries. This interesting riddle is still quite 259 a challenge to modern science in the twentieth century. 260 He stopped reading and put my paper down. I was beginning to sort of hate him. 261 "Your essay, shall we say, ends there," he said in this very sarcastic voice. You wouldn't <!-- [Page 7](arke:01KFYTAC5V31ZRY8T52K3KX86K) --> 262 think such an old guy would be so sarcastic and all. "However, you dropped me a little 263 note, at the bottom of the page," he said. 264 "I know I did," I said. I said it very fast because I wanted to stop him before he 265 started reading that out loud. But you couldn't stop him. He was hot as a firecracker. 266 DEAR MR. SPENCER [he read out loud]. That is all I know about 267 the Egyptians. I can't seem to get very interested in them 268 although your lectures are very interesting. It is all right 269 with me if you flunk me though as I am flunking everything 270 else except English anyway. 271 Respectfully yours, HOLDEN CAULFIELD. 272 He put my goddam paper down then and looked at me like he'd just beaten hell 273 out of me in ping-pong or something. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for reading me 274 that crap out loud. I wouldn't've read it out loud to him if he'd written it--I really wouldn't. 275 In the first place, I'd only written that damn note so that he wouldn't feel too bad about 276 flunking me. 277 "Do you blame me for flunking you, boy?" he said. 278 "No, sir! I certainly don't," I said. I wished to hell he'd stop calling me "boy" all 279 the time. 280 He tried chucking my exam paper on the bed when he was through with it. Only, 281 he missed again, naturally. I had to get up again and pick it up and put it on top of the 282 Atlantic Monthly. It's boring to do that every two minutes. 283 "What would you have done in my place?" he said. "Tell the truth, boy." 284 Well, you could see he really felt pretty lousy about flunking me. So I shot the 285 bull for a while. I told him I was a real moron, and all that stuff. I told him how I 286 would've done exactly the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people didn't 287 appreciate how tough it is being a teacher. That kind of stuff. The old bull. 288 The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot 289 the bull. I live in New York, and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down 290 near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, 291 and if it was, where did the ducks go. I was wondering where the ducks went when the 292 lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them 293 away to a zoo or something. Or if they just flew away. 294 I'm lucky, though. I mean I could shoot the old bull to old Spencer and think 295 about those ducks at the same time. It's funny. You don't have to think too hard when you 296 talk to a teacher. All of a sudden, though, he interrupted me while I was shooting the bull. 297 He was always interrupting you. 298 "How do you feel about all this, boy? I'd be very interested to know. Very 299 interested." 300 "You mean about my flunking out of Pencey and all?" I said. I sort of wished he'd 301 cover up his bumpy chest. It wasn't such a beautiful view. 302 "If I'm not mistaken, I believe you also had some difficulty at the Whooton 303 School and at Elkton Hills." He didn't say it just sarcastic, but sort of nasty, too. 304 "I didn't have too much difficulty at Elkton Hills," I told him. "I didn't exactly 305 flunk out or anything. I just quit, sort of." <!-- [Page 8](arke:01KFYTAC5N8QTA4A32EAVR0HYX) --> 306 "Why, may I ask?" 307 "Why? Oh, well it's a long story, sir. I mean it's pretty complicated." I didn't feel 308 like going into the whole thing with him. He wouldn't have understood it anyway. It 309 wasn't up his alley at all. One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was 310 surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For 311 instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in 312 my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went 313 around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be 314 charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You 315 should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was 316 sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys 317 that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old 318 Hans would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go 319 talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It 320 drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills. 321 Old Spencer asked me something then, but I didn't hear him. I was thinking about 322 old Haas. "What, sir?" I said. 323 "Do you have any particular qualms about leaving Pencey?" 324 "Oh, I have a few qualms, all right. Sure. . . but not too many. Not yet, anyway. I 325 guess it hasn't really hit me yet. It takes things a while to hit me. All I'm doing right now 326 is thinking about going home Wednesday. I'm a moron." 327 "Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future, boy?" 328 "Oh, I feel some concern for my future, all right. Sure. Sure, I do." I thought about 329 it for a minute. "But not too much, I guess. Not too much, I guess." 330 "You will," old Spencer said. "You will, boy. You will when it's too late." 331 I didn't like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was 332 very depressing. "I guess I will," I said. 333 "I'd like to put some sense in that head of yours, boy. I'm trying to help you. I'm 334 trying to help you, if I can." 335 He really was, too. You could see that. But it was just that we were too much on 336 opposite sides ot the pole, that's all. "I know you are, sir," I said. "Thanks a lot. No 337 kidding. I appreciate it. I really do." I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn't've sat 338 there another ten minutes to save my life. "The thing is, though, I have to get going now. 339 I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me. I really 340 do." He looked up at me and started nodding again, with this very serious look on his 341 face. I felt sorry as hell for him, all of a sudden. But I just couldn't hang around there any 342 longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he kept missing the 343 bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest 344 showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place. "Look, sir. Don't 345 worry about me," I said. "I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right 346 now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they?" 347 "I don't know, boy. I don't know." 348 I hate it when somebody answers that way. "Sure. Sure, they do," I said. "I mean 349 it, sir. Please don't worry about me." I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" I 350 said. <!-- [Page 9](arke:01KFYTAC8VZVCTBEXPG1WB8Y4X) --> 351 "Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be- 352 -" 353 "I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to 354 the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir." 355 Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though. 356 "I'll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now." 357 "Good-by, boy." 358 After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at 359 me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" at me, 360 I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when 361 you think about it.

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