School and Lessons: Cruel Summer

As a child was a quiet and timid kid, so I’d never get into any mess big time, though I did my share of ‘terrible deeds’ but still it wasn’t much to the tune that my parents would wonder if they’d sired a monster. I didn’t have much friends but I wasn’t lonely I had my siblings, and my books when we got into a fights. Where I wasn’t a rabble-rouser I wasn’t an angel either.

But I made it a point to not get into any kind of big-time trouble, nothing of the sort where people would’ve to call on my parents for a chat on discipline. I tried to not get into trouble, for dad had too much going at home, the last thing he needed was one of his kids getting into trouble. In fact all of us were near-perfect angels outside, it was only at home sheer devilry would possess us.

I put up with a lot of abuse at school, at the hands of school mates who’d bully me as I was easy target as they were sure I’d not hit back and some of my teachers too, who’d do their best to make me the dunce of the class, one particular English teacher was rather extremely abusive she had labeled me ‘Mute’ and the whole class would jeer at me, with her. I longed to tell at home, but I just learned to keep quiet and keep my own counsel, after all how long could it last? Well it didn’t last long for my teacher had come up with another insulting epithet.

I marked her as crazy in mind and didn’t react much and the quieter I was, the more annoyed she was I realised, so I’d just keep quiet and drive her crazy! But this blog isn’t about her; it is about another episode in my life, which involved another teacher. This blog deals with when my dad had to make a trip to the principal’s office because of me. Though it wasn’t for a big crime, like blowing up the chemistry lab, though I wish it was. It started pretty ordinary, it was a dazzling Wednesday of sunny summer and beauty and I was a few weeks into my 8^th grade, I had managed to not do the homework, this was a new teacher and since it was the start of the academic session she decided to make an example out of me. So I was made to stand in front of the class plus she wrote a note to my parents which I had to get signed by them. Well 45 minutes of standing and pondering was rather laborious, so I was happily looking out of the window and wondering why I didn’t just do the blasted assignment? Well, I didn’t look very sad, so she was all the more irritated.

I bet she kept thinking about the trouble I’d get into at home. Anyway for once I wasn’t too happy about the school getting over, all the thought of taking the note to mom, who’d tell dad, was preying miserably on my mind, dad would feel so let down. It was all awful but nothing could be done about it. I broached about the episode of not completing the assignment and its subsequent fall-out to my mom, I narrated it feeling truly sorry and added the most cute look with it, for all it helped I could’ve done without the cute effect; she was quite horrified at what I’d done, and instead of us reaching an accord of the kind ‘that it was the first and last time, she’ll-overlook-it’ kind of deal, she said she’ll not sign the note and I’ll have the honour of informing my dad. Boy! Was life dealing in spades at that time!!

Anyway, evening came, dad came, and the inevitable came. Somehow I gathered courage and told dad I was in trouble at school, he was disappointed in me even before he had the details, and quite disillusioned when he heard the details, he asked me if I had finished the assignment now. I replied in affirmative. He asked if I’d finished today’s assignments, I nodded in affirmative, the fact he needed to ask this was rather upsetting, he told me not to do it again and apologise to my teacher and signed the note.

Now in an ideal world this would have been the end of this chapter, mistake made, price paid and lesson learnt. But there wasn’t one single thing idealistic about my world. The next day I apologised to the teacher, gave her the signed note and submitted my assignment. I don’t know if she was having a bad day, she most certainly was having a bad hair day, anyway in a moment of madness she decided this wasn’t retribution enough. She told me my dad’s signature wasn’t enough there has to be an apology from the parent too. I decided enough was enough and decided to take a stand. I was furious little tyke at that point, I decided no more being happy-camper with this she-devil and told her on no uncertain terms that my father will not apologise for my mistake. Well like most of my ideas that sound very good in my head this one too turned copper in the real world. Well I can tell you there was no applause for my grandstand. The class lapsed into silence at this sheer act of stupidity and my teacher was struggling for control. I was turned out of the class, the fun thing about here is when you’re turned out of the class you can’t just wander around you have to actually stand outside the class, dealing with the smirks of juniors, jeers of seniors and contempt of teachers and God forbid the principal was on his stroll of the school at that time. I was standing out and praying for time to fly, spiritually quaking at the thought of being spotted by the principal.

Once the bell rang, she left the class, meeting me outside she told I better have an apology the next day. I didn’t tell anyone at home what happened. Those days every time I wished the teacher to be absent desperately, they’d always be absent or indisposed to take the class. Now this mental trick was my secret. The next day was a Friday, all my way to the school I prayed she’d not be able to take the class, and as always I had it my way. She was absent that day and we had a rather wonderful substitute teacher, I was so happy, I was sure over the weekend she’d forget all the fracas and life will be smooth sailing again.

So in this highly optimistic and chipper mood I enjoyed my weekend. Now I don’t know what ill befell on her, which caused her to be absent that fateful Friday, but she sure wasn’t treating it like a welcome break or a Godsend long weekend. She was in rather ill-humour when she came to take our class on Monday. Now whilst I in the foolish optimism of youth thought she’d have forgotten all about it, I forgot my remarkable face may just cause all the memories to come flooding back. So the axe fell, one look at me and she was breathing fire, and baying for my blood, well at least my parent’s apology, she asked me if I had the written apology from my parents. I shook my head in negative; she had not a whit of sympathy and bang! I was directed to stand outside the class while she furiously scribbled another note. Well as I was standing outside the class I was pondering over the great mysteries of life in general and the current situation in particular. I was wondering if my goose was truly cooked this time.

I wondered what she’d have written down, how big a trouble I was in, why do ALL my good ideas always blow in my face. Once the class got over and she came out, she handed me the note and told to give it to my parents, as I went back in the class, I read the note it was horrible beyond my nightmares she had written down that I was in firm need of some discipline and my parents or guardians have to meet the principal. There have been very few days in my entire life I wished I was dead, the journey of those days began with that unfortunate Monday, which started out so well. I got home, but it seemed my exploits had traveled far and reached my sisters ears before I could tell. It seems one of my loud-mouthed classmates had told his sister who was in my sister’s class.

Well as it is like a badly scripted movie everything was falling apart. And I appraised mom on the new situation. I knew mom was too unwell to really make it to a trip to the principal, but still a part of me held hope. But it was a summer of being hopeless. Mom was livid at what I’d done, she said I should’ve told them on Thursday, itself what had happened, the fact that I kept quiet didn’t stand me in good stead. So my good Friday, happy weekend all metamorphosed into sitting on top a powdered keg which the fire-breathing dragon of a teacher, lit on miserable Monday. Dad was shocked at this turn of events. Needless to say he was deeply disappointed and furious at me for hiding it, and positively annoyed as to why he had to apologise. He was all for meeting the principal, which was the only silver lining in my gloomy cloud. I was of course punished and grounded big time for hiding information and reprimanded deeply for my deception.

Tuesday, bought with it some hope, though I was marched to school like a criminal, but I was glad dad had the same stance as I did on this issue. Dad was there in time for the appointment with the principal, but he had to meet the teacher before hand. She told him a whole load of crap and my dad asked her only one thing, the fact I didn’t do my homework and the subsequent punishment was fine but why must a parent apologise? She back-tracked soon enough and said she, never said anything like that she only asked me to apologise to her and I didn’t. Thankfully dad knew this kind of disobedience was beyond me, so he asked her what was the misbehaviour indicated in the second note all about, she cleverly replied it was the apology I refused her. I was kinda zapped! I mean! Talk about turncoats!! She could pick on a kid like a big bully and now finding she had bitten off more than she could chew she was lying through her teeth. Dad said if that was all I’d have no problems apologising, I apologised for not doing the homework again.

She accepted it and told dad, fine then he could go, and she’ll set it alright with the principal. Dad was smart he told her no, he’d like to meet the principal for she had made a lot of charges against his daughter. Just then the messenger said we could go in the principal would see us, she tried to dissuade my dad and but there was no moving him. He went in. I was out with her; she told me if the principal asks me anything to just say it was all a misunderstanding on my part. Just then the principal summoned us, while I was wondering what I should do then. Should I tell a lie and let my dad down so bad or should I tell the truth and face her fury the entire academic year. Thankfully God decided to spare me, as the principal asked the teacher to narrate what exactly happened, she narrated the same story of me misunderstanding what she’d said. To which my dad replied, ‘ok call any 2 students from my class and ask them what really happened, whether his daughter misunderstood, or something was wrong.’ The teacher just blurted all that isn’t necessary and I think the principal understood what truly transpired but he couldn’t let his staff down, so he apologised for the misunderstanding to dad and told me to be more careful about my work and drew curtains on the episode.

Dad was ok with the apology, the teacher was not so smug but that entire year I just borderline passed her subject; she took it out on my grades.

But it was a horrible experience, one I didn’t care for a repeat. After all these years too I can still recall that ghastly teacher and the entire experience as if it just happened last week. I keep thinking about my mistake in not telling my parents when it went wrong. I keep wondering whether that stance got me anything positive. I keep wondering if I’d do the same second time around. Too much happened that year to be just forgotten. I learned lessons the school didn’t intend to teach me that cruel summer.