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The Rubber Band
By Michael A Ramirez
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Not rated by the Author.
The conflict between a judgmental teacher and a less than normal student.
As I sit in the corner of the classroom, encapsulated in my own universe,my red-headed, overweight, stubby, sixth grade teacher, Mrs.Loudenburg, stands at her watching tower inscribing her lecture onto a green plane. I sit in the corner for a reason. I often find myself in tumult. Mrs.Loudenburg doesn’t understand me; no one understand me, not even me. The problem is, I have an adult mind, but the maturation of my soul is of a very small lovable child. The thought of growing churns my nerve endings and bones, but simultaneously I am tired of the idleness of the leisure classes. Nothing challenges my mature mind. Hence, I often find myself twiddling my thumbs, thus trouble is always knocking at my door and walking in uninvited. Mrs.Loudenburg often outcasts me from the class. She phones my mother in front of the entire class as if it was an event at a show my classmates come to see.She blames actions on me that I clearly had not done, and making me feel incongruous to the entire class. This shoots down my morale more than an average twelve year old can take, but I understand the world around me.I see how cruel some are and to take it personal, will result in your ultimate demise. I am very confident in two things, academics and comedy. Although, I am depleted of my peers acceptance very often by Mrs.Loudenburg, I regain it back with comedy. The routine grows exasperatingly old for Mrs.Loudenburg, but the routine is what lets me contain my sanity. The routine was is simple as trouble, intimidation, and comedy. The cycle always seemed to start with trouble.
I sit in Mrs.Choral's history class with intentions to make nothing less than a hundred on today's test. Sitting eagerly, I grip my pen with anticipation. My paper slides across my lustrous chocolate workspace. I clutch my paper and begin my test. I analyze the test for a few minutes until I receive a pat on the back and a good luck from the tall, brown headed, skinny Mrs.Choral. She returns to her desk,a few feet away from me, and I reply with a smile and return to my test. My hand erratically circles answers while my mind lags behind attempting to confirm my hand's actions as quick as they are circling. I begin to hear subtle whispers behind me. I pivot my head slowly to hear the gossip. I hear Mrs.Choral and a student whispering. All I can make out are mummers, but I understand the tone. Mrs.Choral is questioning students and I receive a feeling of an empty gut. After I complete my test, I turn in my test and return my seat. Mrs.Choral respects me so I return the kindness by giving her silence during the the rest of test. The entire class finish their test just in time to return to our home-room. As the class and I are making the transition between our classes, I observe Mrs.Choral giving a referral to Mrs.Loudenburg.
This lead up to the intimidation. I return to my home-room and enter my isolated section of the social room.
As I began to organize my clean papers and sharpened pencils, Mrs.Loudenburg tells the class, "Boys and girls,today during Mrs.Choral's class, Mrs.Choral was walloped with a rubber-band during today's test. Now we have a general idea of who it was, but we would like for you students to write down on a piece of paper and tell us who you believe it was."
And with those statements my stomach fell through an endless hole with an emotion of fear of what and when it would hit. I know what was in hold for me in the next few minutes, the entire class will single me out to save whomever it was that did catapult the rubber-band, and I would would be sitting in the principal's office taking all the blame. Within minutes my teacher tells me to retrieve my things and head to the principal's office. My mind rampant with raging rationalizations. I have no idea what to do. My words are as significant as my breath, oh so important to me, but to all else they were nugatory. My human reaction is to cry,and that is all I can do,weep. I am trying to explain my thought but my thoughts were deranged as Sigmund Freud, and my mouth was in the same state. All I can do is lay my head down and sob.
Now that I found myself with an acute amount of confidence, a large amount of segregation, and a week of detention, I found that it was of good taste to redeem myself in the perspective of my peers. After I returned from the office, I come to my desk plant myself on top of it with my chin high and shake my rump like no other. I simply needed validation for my cruel and unfair punishment. Moments later I found myself walking to the principal's office again this time with a perilous smile. I knew my tyrant couldn't oppress me and outcast me forever. I knew she could never take my knowledge and dreams from me.
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