I
always thought this one be the one that would “turn into a book.” Who knows …
maybe there is still time…
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"Trying to connect"
Karen
Stevens loved her job. She liked to watch her students learn and love watching
them figure out new things on their own and knew when to back off and when to
shove them in the right direction. She was a dedicated teacher; one her
student’s trusted because she did whatever she needed to do to make sure her
students succeeded. Sometimes she took students home for a nice home cooked
meal and a night of conversation that revolved around their lives for a change.
Other teachers often came to her for advice and she was always at every PTA
meeting. Many of her students had
parents that didn’t have the time to spend with them or frankly didn’t care so
she felt it necessary to be their voice.
For
this, her students flocked to her; students who didn’t get her for a teacher
would
beg
to have their schedules changed so they could say I have Mrs. Stevens for
English. Even students that she didn’t teach first hand knew her and came to
her room to talk or get help for assignments. She never turned anyone away. Not
when the bell rang and it was time for her next class. Not when it was nearing
7 and her husband was waiting, and not when the bell went off in her head
saying she should. Mark was a bell ringing kind of guy.
She
noticed him standing in the door, but she had learned that if they wanted her
help they would come in and ask for it. She tried not to glance up, but
instinct got the best of her. She realized that she had never seen him before,
but she had heard about him. One teacher said he had killed a student at his
last school. Another said it was his uncle. She didn’t know who to believe, but
if he needed her help he would get it just like everyone else in this school.
“Hi!
Do you have a minute?” he said as he finally entered the door. “I’m Mark and
your Mrs. Stevens aren’t you?”
“Yes
I am, how can I help you?” She sat up straight in her chair with a huge smile
that showed all of her front teeth. “Well I just moved to this town. I didn’t want to come here. At my last school I didn’t learn much except how to win a fight. I have this assignment that I don’t think I can handle, but I was told you might help me.”
“I’ll try. What’s the assignment?”
“We have to write a story of our life quite frankly my life is not something I want to put on paper. So I don’t know how to start this paper.”
“That’s not really a problem. You just moved here and no one knows about you. If you wanted, you could make up the story of your life.”
“Your saying I should lie?”
“No” she giggled, “Not lie…just be….creative. The parts you don’t want to tell stretch the truth a little bit. For example if you were say arrested and that is what you don’t want to tell anyone, say I was sent away to live with relatives.”
“What makes you think I was ARRESTED” he interrupted.
She
blinked once at him like she had been slapped. Yes, she had assumed he had been
arrested, not just because of the stories she had heard, but the way he carried
himself. He wore nothing but black had really shaggy hair that didn’t give off
the impression that it knew soap and water. He had on an old leather jacket. It
was at least eighty degrees outside why else would he wear it unless it had
gang ties. She herself was wearing a sundress and still thought it was hot.
“I
didn’t mean to assume anything about you. Trust me I know how it feels to have
someone be judged before they are known. I was just trying to think of
something that is so bad you may not want people to know. Please … I really
wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.” Trying to get back on his good side. It
was getting late and she wanted to get home, but had a feeling this guy needed
her help more than Bob needed his dinner. Like so many other times Bob would
have to sit second to her job.
“What
are you talking about knowing how it feels to be judged I bet no one has ever
looked at you and thought anything other than what you are?” He said getting
annoyed with this teacher who wasn’t anyone he had to be nice too yet continued
to talk to her.
Karen
answered by picking up a picture of Bob off her desk “This is my husband.”
“So
he looks like a little prep too.”
"See
you just judged him without knowing him. My parents did what you did, but they
didn’t see him as a prep. They saw him as a troublemaker. He works at a garage
fixing cars and they thought he did not “deserve” me, but they hardly knew him.
I did everything I could to convince them and while they have accepted him it’s
still very uneasy and no one feels comfortable at their house.” She starred at
the picture for a minute or two lost in thought and put it back down.
Trying
to change the subject, she looked at him “So tell me what is it that you don’t
want to discuss in your paper,” His face tightened “I mean I need to know what
the problem is before I can help you.”
“Well.
. . the thing is . . .ARGH! I don’t want
to be here!” he yelled.
“No
one is forcing you to come to my room.”“Not just your room, this school, this town. I want to go back home!”
“Well why did you move here?” He said nothing just continued to inspect his shoes. “You don’t have to answer my questions if you aren’t ready. Let’s start easier, where did you move here from?”
He
sat in the student desk slumped over holding his head up with his hands. Tears
started to form and his body shook as he tried to hold them back. Lifting his
head seemed like a chore.
“OK here is my deal. . .” he paused for a minute to regain his composure. His mouth opened to begin “Mrs. Stevens!” they both jumped a mile in the air. “Mrs. Stevens” the intercom said for a second time.
“Yes” she said still trying to catch her breath.
“Will you come by the office before you go home?”
“Sure”
“Hey….I’ll let you get to the office I’m not sure if I am ready to do this anyway.” Mark was semi relieved to be let off the hook.
“Mark you were going to say something please go ahead. The office can wait.” Her eyes pleading none of her teeth were showing this time. He paused, and then returned to his seat.
“Ok see here is the thing I know there are a lot of rumors going on around here about me, but none of them have the story completely right. Yes, I am here against my will, I mean if I had my choice I wouldn’t be here, but everyone decided it was for the best. A few months ago my . . .” he started to break down on her again she reached for a Kleenex “I’m sorry this will actually be the first time I say this out loud. My uncle killed himself about 3 months ago he was like a . . . he was a father to me. Everything I have done was to make him proud.”
“My
town is small, everything I looked at reminded me of him. The little diner he
would take me to, the park where we would sit and talk for hours, and of course
his house. It seemed to follow me everywhere ‘cause every time I would turn
around I would be in front of it, like my feet didn’t get the message that he
was gone. My mom just did not care she would try sometimes, but it always
seemed really forced like she would rather do something else. I guess you could
say I freaked out on her, but after losing the best person that ever walked
into my life I think it was warranted.” He stopped and looked to her for
approval.
“Mrs.
Stevens” the intercom interrupted for the second time that day.
“WHAT!”
she said in a forceful, but respectful tone. “Your husband is on the phone again and says he needs to speak with you.”
“Tell him I’m with a student and that I will call him when I am finished. Thank-you” to show that this conversation was over. She returned her attention to Mark “Please continue I’m sorry about that.” This time no toothless smile; no smile at all just an honest look of concern for a student.
“So
anyway my mom she just couldn’t handle it so she shipped me out here which I
guess is ok. It’s a better school and a better neighborhood, but I have nothing
to remind me of him here. Which explains why I’m wearing a jacket in the middle
of a heat wave.” He said with a smile as she nodded. “He gave me this. He had
one just like it and I loved it. I would go to his house and curl up on the
couch with it as a blanket. It was so smooth and it was not like anything I had
ever seen before. For my thirteenth birthday he gave it to me, it was big back
then too.”
She
could not tell if he was talking to her or if he was talking to the jacket. He
sat there stroking the jacket as if remembering a moment with his uncle. She
glanced above his head to the clock, no wonder Bob called, it was getting close
to five and when she was going to be late she would at least call him to let
him know.
“So
what’s the problem why can’t you just write about your uncle he seems to have
been a positive influence on you?”
“I
failed him. I did everything I could to stop him and I couldn’t. I failed him.”
He started crying again.
Karen’s
maternal instinct took over and she kneeled over to him and hugged him trying
to comfort as best she could. “Mind if I ask why he did it?” Not letting her go
he spoke over her shoulder.
“He
had this girl. . . she didn’t know what she had. He was a great man he just
well he had a hard time with money. It wasn’t like he didn’t try he just
couldn’t seem to make ends meet. She left him and he fell apart. I told him he
needed to stay to see me become the man he would be proud of one day. I begged
him and I told him I loved him; nothing worked. I told him I would never
forgive him now I don’t feel like I can.”
“Your
uncle wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. Usually when people get to that
point there is no point of return. Please don’t take this the wrong way but he
probably didn’t even hear you.” He let go and pulled back from her.
“But
. . . he told me he loved me too he had to have heard me.” He started again to
cry, “How the hell am I suppose to write
a paper on this if I can’t even say it out loud. I don’t want some teacher to
look at me all sappy for the rest of the year. Which is why I am talking to you
about it, unless I want to, I never have to see you again.”
“I
have an idea … how about writing about the great things you and your uncle did.
Write about the diner and the park and especially the jacket. That is a great
story.”
She
told him as she reached for a sheet of paper
“Ok
you have the diner, the park, and the jacket those can be the three paragraphs
for the body and then all you need is the introduction and the conclusion. For
the intro you could tell them about your uncle. Like is he your dad’s brother
or your mom’s brother stuff like that. In the conclusion you could just sum up
how you felt about him.”
“I
don’t think I can do that in just one paragraph.” As he glanced at his watch,
“Do
you mind if I . . . oh crap I didn’t realize it was so late I’m sure you want
to get home. Why didn’t you stop my rambling?” He said as he started to gather
up his things.
“Don’t
worry about it. We can work on your conclusion together and then we call it a
night?”
Bob
knew where she kept the frozen dinners he could take care of himself and she
could stop and get something on the way home. Dinner was not the problem. Once
again it would be a single hard taco for one at the dinner table while he
selfishly gripped about teachers pushing their work on her. He would not want
to sit through the story of Mark and she wouldn’t bother him with it. She
learned a while ago it was a waste of breath.
It
took them another hour to finish the conclusion. He seemed happy with it, but
did not think it completely wrapped up his feelings for his uncle. It was
getting time for the janitors to lock the building for the night. He told her
thank you and headed for the door never looking back. She packed up her things
and walked out to her car. As she started to crank it she saw Mark ride by in
his old beat up Ford; the thought of following him came and went. Deciding it
was a bad idea she drove home hoping that Mark would again appear in her room
another day.
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So
there you go … what do you guys think?!
-Marcy
(@beaslma)
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