I am always being teased at school for not being aggressive or assertive enough in the kitchen. That’s perfectly fine with me because I still remember when I got too aggressive during school hours. Of course, I cried because getting in trouble scared the shit out of me, but I was still too aggressive. No, I’m being completely serious. I hit some one during school hours, and my response was tears.
The kid, who would feel the bony back-hand of justice soon, felt the need to lift my desk/chair* with his feet and drop it when it was hovering a few inches above the ground. I asked politely several times for him to stop. I got to the point of cursing, and he wouldn’t stop. I asked the teacher to let me move or make him stop, and he still didn’t stop. This was the same kid who in elementary school would tease me incessantly with his annoying little friends. The terminal build-up of wanting to kick that kid’s ass under the agonizing pressure of being a “good kid” resulted in the explosion of my temper. One, quick, back-handed smack to his smirking face later, I was headed out of the classroom and to the principle’s office on my own accord. Read that again. I was such a good kid; I tried to go directly to the principle’s office to confess my crime.
The substitute for the class (why is it always a sub?) was not on the same wavelength with me. She had seen the boy follow me out of class and thought we were going to fight each other in the hallways. Of course when she caught up with me, she proceeded to tell me “Damn, you slapped the life out of him. He’s going to be red tomorrow. I didn’t think you had it in you. I mean, you’re just so little. Go down to the office and wait for Mr. Hagist.”
So I sit outside the office in the little nook of a waiting room, regretting what I have done and staring at my shoes as if the scruffy sneakers could make the world go away. I heard a familiar voice beckoning me.
“Roxanne, I haven’t seen you since you were in my class last year. You aren’t getting into trouble, are you?” I looked up from my feet to see that I was surrounded by teachers who had me in pervious classes. I was unable to say anything and was too close to tears for a response. The incarnates of my past started sharing stories of my lack of participation and my uncanny knowledge of the material. Five to ten minutes later, they started chattering about the various books they had threatened to confiscate from me in hopes to gain my attention, and I was finally called into the office to meet my academic doom.
Only one thing was asked of me; “What happened?”
“I’msosorryIaskedhimtostopliftinganddroppingmy
chairbuthewouldn’tstopandIlostmytempersoIhithim
andI’msosorryIunderstandifyouhavetocallmyparents
andgivemeasuspensionbutpleasedon’tsuspenseme
there’sonlyamonthleftofschoolandI’veneverdone
anythinglikethisI’msosorry.”**
By the end of my little spiel I was nothing but a puddle of tears and sniffles. About half a box of tissues later, I was told they would drop all charges if we would just apologize to each other. I apologized quickly and sincerely, fearing what would happen to me in retribution. The classmate with the swelling cheek had to decide whether or not he was going to get off free as a bird, or take me down with him. Thankfully for me, he decided he didn’t want a suspension on his permanent record.
The real upside to this story is that from that day on, none of my tormentors ever teased me again. Of course that meant my dad’s a liar, and that ignoring said people wasn’t working because then they knew they could get away with it.
Readers let that be a lesson to you from aunt-no I’m not that old-cousin Roxy; “Don’t take shit from people, or they’ll just start shitting on you.”
Sincerely,
Roxy
*You know those really uncomfortable desks and chairs welded together to make a desk-chair? I hate those things.
**Translated that’s “I am very sorry for my actions. I know I should not have reacted in such a way, and I should have told the substitute what was going on. I understand that I should be punished following the code of conduct for this school. I believe I have learned my lesson, and I would like to reiterate that I am very sorry for the trouble I caused not only to my fellow classmate’s face but for the interruption I surely caused to other people’s learning experience.”
Labels: confession, truth, violence