in a class subject I really enjoy. I think this will be my favorite class period yet. Unfortunately the bell rang and it was time for me and my new-found friend to part ways. Now I was on to a class that I pretty much hated my entire life in grade school- Spanish. I walk into the class and I am already overwhelmed by the teacher’s enthusiasm.
“HOLA! Siéntate por favor!” About 5 people that I knew from grade school were in class with me. I quickly took a seat next to Miranda, a girl I used to sit with at lunch in 8th grade. To my left was my childhood friend Sandy and we knew each other since kindergarten. We all began to laugh and joke about what we had gotten ourselves into. In Tomliw, you had a choice between Spanish, German, and American Sign Language. The only reason I picked Spanish was due to the fact that I was practically force-fed it since 1st grade and figured it wouldn’t be too much of what I don’t already know.
The teacher walked in the room from the doorway singing some sort of Spanish song. “Ah Ey Ee oh oo. El burro sabe mas que tu.” I guess the Hispanic like to make fun of their kids while teaching them their vowel sounds. We all reluctantly admitted we liked the song and it stayed in our head for weeks. I was talking constantly to either Sandy or Miranda and knew that this was not a good sign.
“Silencio por favor! Levante la mana!” Even though the second part caught me off guard by not knowing what it meant, the first part sounded like she was pretty pissed so I kept my mouth shut. Mrs. Riggs seemed like a nice person overall, but I just couldn’t wait to get out of this class. The constant talking at a 300 decibel pitch was not good for my ears or the headache I had. My next class was in just five minutes and it was easily my favorite subject of any to exist. English was a class where you got to read a free book and then prove your comprehension. I wasn’t sure a topic left just for that reason was legal but I took full advantage of it. One of my favorite books, “To Kill a Mocking Bird” was in the curriculum and I was very excited to get that into my day as soon as possible. Finally, after what felt like a few years, the bell rang.
“Hasta luego!” I smiled at her and tried to hide my joy of being out of her class. My English class was right next to my 2nd hour study hall and I was happy that I could figure it out so easily. I walked into the room and looked for a good place to sit. That was when I met one of the most influential women of my life.
“Hi! I’m Mrs. Carlisle. Go ahead and sit- well anywhere.” She laughed and I smiled at the atmosphere of the classroom. I instantly realized that this was now my new favorite class.
Chapter 3
As more students began to enter, I looked through my bag for the notebook that I had for class. I couldn’t wait for the books and stories we were going to read. In this room, I felt as if all my worries from today were gone. Part of it was because the day was almost over, but the other part was that I knew that this would be a class I could unwind in.
Even at home where I had access to TV, I read a lot of books. I had just finished reading “The Lost Boy” by David Pelzer, and I was looking for something else to keep my mind occupied. Mrs. Carlisle got out of her chair as the bell rang and she introduced herself. There was an air about her that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. She was most definitely a teacher, but she must have forgotten we were the students; as if we were friends of hers out to lunch. She told us things about herself and made jokes that were actually funny; she rendered the sympathetic giggle unnecessary.
She was a true human being with flaws and didn’t project herself as otherwise. From the moment I listened, I had learned something. Then again, I remembered one of my favorite quotes that I heard on Larry King. “I never learned anything while I was talking.” It was so simple and yet so beautifully true.
Mrs. Carlisle went through the curriculum of the things we would be reading and learning. To my excitement, there was nothing that was going to be uninteresting. She told us that our first assignment would be to read “The Cast of Amontillado” and do the questions on it that followed. We had to bring our textbooks, but for some reason I didn’t mind nearly as much as I did with biology. The thought of coming back to 9th period made the overall thought of tomorrow less threatening.
All too soon the bell rang. Mrs. Carlisle said have a nice day and we all left the classroom. The hallway that linked the main hallway to 9th hour was long and flooded with other rooms. When we were dismissed, so were all of the other kids in the hall. While I walked leisurely to the main hall, I heard something that made my blood reverse through my veins.
“Get a haircut you faggot!” I sharply turned around to see who it might have been. I saw a couple of boys snicker and point in my direction. They definitely meant me. I turned back around as the worst of my fears had come to fruition. They had known I was gay by my hair’s length? I tried to walk quicker but my heart felt as if it would beat out of my chest. At the first ten seconds it happened I felt anger, but then I saw Faye as she met me in the main hallway. At the very instant she saw that I was so flustered, I wanted to sink into the color coordinated floor tiles and melt through the Earth’s soil.
“What’s the matter?” The question, while all in good meaning, had only twisted my stomach further into submission. My knees felt weak and my strength was zapped by the tidal wave of emotion that I tried to keep from drowning in.
“I just don’t feel so great. Let’s just get on the bus so I can sit down.” Faye was a brilliantly smart girl. From a couple of quick-spoken sentences, she knew right at that moment that something was wrong, I didn’t want to talk about it, and I would tell her later. She went along with the lie as if she was an actress and the script was just now handed to her.
“Yeah you do look pretty pale. We’ll go sit down. I was gonna get my hoodie but I’ll probably need it for tomorrow anyway. My classes are fricken cold!” I laughed at that a little too enthusiastically and blew my cover even further out of reach. An unknown girl walking next to me glanced at me as if I had just put a gun to her face. I wanted to leave. Maybe if I jumped hard enough I could break through the roof and the stratosphere and orbit the earth for a couple of years until high school was over.
We walked onto the bus where a droll woman told us to take a seat anywhere. I choose to sit three spots from the driver on the window side; Faye sat right next to me and started to tell me about her day. I was just happy she didn’t expect interaction. I was too busy thinking of what had happened. Pressing my forehead against the glass window, the event happened over and over in my head.
Rationalization was my first line of defense. They must have meant some other kid; a friend of theirs probably. Isn’t that what kids did now? They would call their friends derogatory names as some form of a game. It was all a funny joke that they were continuing from class. But the image of them laughing and pointing directly at me flashed into my mind. I damned myself for turning around to find a culprit. Ignorance would have been a bliss one couldn’t have paid for. My second line of defense was to evaluate the merit of the statement itself. Why did those 5 simple words destroy me so effortlessly? My hair really wasn’t all that long; maybe an inch or so past my ears when it was straight. Was it my hair that really gave me away, or was that just the sniper calling its target?
After my primary and secondary defenses were shot, my third and final defense kicked in. In order to rebuild myself, I had to evaluate why that word had such meaning. I couldn’t care less about my hair being too long. I grew it that way because it was my decision and mine alone. Then I evaluated the bullet of the sentence. The word “faggot” was, from my recollection, a word for a bundle of sticks used to burn people for wrong doings in the Middle-Ages. I could only imagine how the definition had ignorantly shifted its course to speak of a specific type of person.
Still, it wasn’t the definition of the word that had struck me like a speeding semi-truck.
