boy would let me write a line or two in his copy-book.
Sometimes, too, I would come to school before the schoolmaster
had returned from the morning service at the synagogue, and
practise with pen and ink, following the copy of some of my
classmates. One of my teachers once caught me in the act. He
held me up as an ink-thief and forbade me come to school before
the beginning of exercises

Otherwise my teachers scarcely ever complained of my behavior.
As to the progress I was making in my studies, they admitted,
some even with enthusiasm, that mine was a "good head."
Nevertheless, to be beaten by them was an every-day experience
with me

Overworked, underfed, and goaded by the tongue-lashings of their
wives, these enervated drudges were usually out of sorts. Bursts of
ill temper, in the form of invective, hair-pulling, ear-pulling,
pinching, caning, "nape-cracking," or "chin-smashing," were part
of the routine, and very often I was the scapegoat for the sins of
other boys. When a pupil deserved punishment and the
schoolmaster could not afford to inflict it because the culprit
happened to be the pet of a well-to-do family, the teacher's anger
was almost sure to be vented on me. If I happened to be somewhat
absent-minded (the only offense I was ever guilty of), or was not
quick enough to turn over a leaf, or there was the slightest halt in
my singsong, I received a violent "nudge" or a pull by the ear.

"Lively, lively, carcass you!" I can almost hear one of my teachers
shout these words as he digs his elbow into my side. "The millions
one gets from your mother!"