Sunshine
By shabnam
- 544 reads
"Look up, the world is in front of you, not in your feet." She said
and I couldn't stop the smile that stretched my mouth. Know that
feeling where you hear someone say something so obvious you can't
understand why you're amazed? It's like a sudden cool breeze on an
agonizingly hot day. She was good at that and at shocking and
embarrassing me?..geeky, shy, tongue tied, fifteen year old me. I never
understood why she bothered. The first day I attended her class and saw
the no nonsense creases on her forehead, the sure, clear flick of her
wrist as she threw chalk at a talker and the glare that followed it, I
knew I wanted to be nonexistent, at least around her. As if nerdy,
little me could ever offend anyone!
So I shrunk into my seat, I stared at my desk with as much fascination
as if the secret of life were carved into its wooden, pencil scratched
surface. I never raised my hand even when I knew the answer and when I
walked out of class it was always head down.
It wasn't as if I didn't have any friends. People my own age didn't
terrify me. I spent two weeks watching everyone, listening to what they
said and the way they talked before deciding whether anyone was a
potential friend or not.
Being ignored had never been a problem until now. Most teachers were
too weary of the thick skulled, stubborn, and uninterested, dullness
they experienced everyday to call on anyone other than the ones who
flailed their arms around like traffic police or those who chomped on
bubblegum like cud chewing cattle and lolled in their seats with
rolling eyes like victims of severe neurological trauma. They never
even saw me. I escaped recognition for only two of her classes. On the
third day, she asked a question. As usual, I stared at my desk and my
heart began to hammer painfully like someone putting nails into a wall.
"Please don't let her ask me!" my brain screamed. She called on a boy
two rows away (one of the cud chewers). He stammered, stuttered, and
spat out an answer so astonishingly stupid I turned red with sympathy.
I hadn't even finished wincing and she'd called my name. "What how does
she know my name?" I thought. I stared at her irate face for 10 seconds
and then blurted out the first thing that entered my mind. Amazingly,
it turned out to be correct. She turned away and went on not caring two
hoots that I had gone through a monumentally earth shattering
experience! My hands were still shaking when class ended half an hour
later.
A few days on my new friend (one of the hand flailers) asked if I would
go with her to the Principal's office for an errand she had to run.
Dana was one of those lucky kids that could get away with impressing
the teachers and volunteering to do things, without making any
difference to her coolness with the kids. I agreed to go as long as I
didn't have to actually go inside the office. We were on our way out
when we passed by the staff room. The door was open and She was there
messing about with some papers. When she saw us, she called us in. I
thought she had something to tell Dana so I hung about the door
shuffling my feet, head down hoping to escape notice as usual. No such
luck. That's when she snapped the line I chose to quote in the
beginning. I don't know who was more amazed by my reaction. She stared
at me for a few seconds then said, "You should smile more often". Now I
was completely embarrassed. She let us off after a few questions about
class work.
After that, I knew I was in trouble. I was no longer invisible and if I
wanted to escape embarrassment, I had to know the answers to any
possible questions. So the swotting
started. Her class became a challenge. Could I get through without
being picked on? She always called on the people who looked blank,
sleepy, or unsure. I was in trouble till I thought of a new trick. I
stuck my hand in the air whenever she asked a question, sure she would
assume I knew and so not ask. It backfired. Apparently, the blank
scared look stayed put in spite of the hand waving. Then my desperate
swotting paid off and I began to get things right. I transformed into a
hand flailer. She stopped asking. Now perversely I wanted to be picked
on! It was as if we were playing a game of mind reading. How could I
get her to think I knew the answer when I didn't (and so not ask) or
think I didn't know the answer when I did (and so ask)? Of course, we
were all playing the same game but I thought I was getting good at it.
Once or twice, I covered myself with shame by waving my hand when I
didn't know the answer and that put a stop to it. I never volunteered
after that whether I knew the answer or not and she stopped
asking.
My grades improved because of all the work I was doing. My eyes
remained glued to the floor. I couldn't look at her without blushing
with shame at the memories of all the mistakes I'd made. She left me
alone for a while and then one day she stopped in the middle of
explaining something and said irritatedly "For God's sake smile! You're
depressing me" I stared shocked and stupefied. Then everyone started
laughing and I couldn't help laughing with them.
She wouldn't leave me alone after that. She embarrassed me into
responding to her questions. She goaded me into taking part in class
discussions. She would stop me after class to ask why I never said
anything. She caught me squinting in the bright sunlight outside one
day and abruptly asked "Are you smiling or is it the sun?"
I never stopped being nervous around her. But I could at least string
two sentences together without stammering. As we got closer to the
final exams, she became less prickly. Within six months, she had
managed to transform the cud chewers and eye rollers into individuals
with enough brain matter to be able to pay attention to her
classes.
I never understood how she did it but my high school chemistry teacher
made life bearable for me. It was tough being an awkward, unattractive
quiet teenager and she made me see that I actually had something worth
saying. That the world was not just concerned with giving me a once
over and deciding I didn't fit. That I didn't have to go around looking
as if my dog had died for people to take me seriously. That I did in
fact have a face and it was saying things I didn't want it to.
I think I did manage to convey my gratitude in my own inarticulate way.
She said I reminded her of herself when she was my age. For some reason
that was the single most hope-inspiring thing, she ever told me.
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