Dear Readers,
I wanted to share with you an experience I had awhile ago as a substitute teacher. The names have been changed, and the events slightly altered, but this is a more or less true story. I’m still not sure if I did right or wrong, but when I think about it, I do feel some pride in my actions. I’ll leave it to you to judge ultimately though
Sincerely,
Sensei
March 8, 2012
She wasn’t what you would call “after school special” material. She had bedraggled blonde hair, tired from an endless parade of crimping, styling, and bleaching. Throw in a dash of Texas heat and humidity exhaustion and you could imagine that if she did not look like she did today, she might have been quite beautiful. She was slender, but wouldn’t be by the time she was thirty, and everything she wore was High School Musical pink.
I must admit, her voice was hardly distinguishable from the dull drone of High School post-test release filling the portable building classroom I was banished to. I might not have even noticed her at all, if she hadn’t said something I did notice: the name of my niece.
It is a strange feeling when you hear something familiar and intimate like the name of a loved one in a place you have no connection to. So needless to say, I could hear nothing at all save her nasal vocal excretions.
“THAT girl was such a bitch. I went to the office every day because of her, but it was worth it just to see her ugly face when she cried. Can you believe she keeps trying out for Cheer? That cow will never be one of us.”
A murmur of laughter and nervous acceptance went up from the students closest to her, who I noticed were lounged around her like she was a particularly peppy cousin of Jabba the Hutt. I also noticed an Indian student two rows over slowly lower his eyes and turn away, as if the conversation were stinging him.
A new name, call her “Ginnie”, was introduced via interjection of Pinkie’s shorter, fatter, browner friend.
“That girl?”, Pinkie began, “Did you see what she posted on Facebook? I mean, how dare that bitch keep trying to come into our locker room, after she got kicked out for being such a skank with her boyfriend? And you know, even if you think that, you don’t put that up on Facebook, with Cheer in the name. Then we all look like bitchy elementary school students and everyone knows we aren’t like that. I’m glad I told Coach about her and that fag she’s blowing.”
The smiles on the faces of her friends look like slowly cracking mirrors. I catch the eyes of one of the boys sitting near her, and he shakes his head twice, silently begging me not to help. The farthest rows of students have turned slowly away, bodies sideways in desks, eyes averted as the ranting kicks into high gear. With each proposed name, Pinkie launches into a torrent of vitriol, laced with a enough obscenity to kick her off daytime television. The students who are clearly not her in-group look like mice trapped in a glass cage with a snake, hopelessly waiting until it is their turn to be devoured, and trying not to react to the hapless carnage visited on others like them. Continue reading →