Well, that’s it. I am pissed. I am really
pissed. My mom says I should just let it go, and be thankful things
turned out that way. All of us should. Take advantage of the break.
There’ll be more than enough challenges, she said, next year, when I
start high school. I know all of that. I know more or less, what to
expect there. Things will be different, for sure.
But I’m still here, in elementary school, most of the way through Grade 8. I know
I used to grit my teeth and say I can see it through. Meaning to the
end of the school year. Meaning having HER ride on my back, driving me
nuts with her screeching. No, not just me, everyone. All of us. Which
gave us a lot to talk about, didn’t it? Having a teacher who we
couldn’t respect.
You could say that everyone going into her
class kind of knew what to expect. She had a reputation, and not a good
one, but then hardly any teacher in the school has a ‘good’ reputation,
if you know what I mean. Maybe the primary-grade teachers do, but not
the others. Some of them aren’t bad, some of them are pretty awful.
You could say Mrs. McVetty’s was about as bad as they get. I had a
friend at school a grade above me, a really good friend. We used to
spend a lot of time together in the schoolyard, and after school. She
would tell me about the things McVetty used to do. She hated her.
My mom said I should give her a chance, not rely on gossip. It wasn’t
gossip, it was friendly advice. But you know, when September came
around and we were first in her class, I thought what the hell! I
wondered what all the fuss was about, because she seemed really good. I
mean she explained things, it seemed as if she cared about whether we
understood subjects like math, and she’d seem to be extra careful to see
that everyone knew what was happening before she moved on to higher
levels.
I really
appreciated that. It helped me a lot, it really did. I felt pretty
good about stuff, especially math and science, not my best subjects.
That lasted for the first two months. And after that, wow, you wouldn’t
believe the kind of atmosphere around our classroom. Not, as my mom
said, conducive to learning. Because this teacher just kept going off
the rails. Seems she couldn’t control the class, and she couldn’t
control her reaction to the class.
Yep, some of us were kind of
noisy and we didn’t like being told not to be. She began to move us all
around the place, making us sit here and there and everywhere but where
we wanted to, to get us away from one another. That only made things
worse; because we were further apart from the people we really liked we
just upped the activities that got her mad. We were louder, we were
sneakier when she wasn’t looking, some of the guys began to airplane
notes and the place went wild.
If you think we were loud, that was nothing compared to her. I mean she went berserk, completely nuts.
She would screech at us like she was out of her mind. My mom said she
could understand that; I drive her crazy, too. She said all of us
should give a thought to the difficulty of teaching 24 hormone-charged
obstreperous kids (her words). Tough, I said, other teachers do it and
they don’t blow like Mount Olympus.
Funny thing about that, my
mom’s sympathy for Mrs. McVetty, it just didn’t last. She stopped
telling me to try to tone things down and set an example for the other
kids once I told her that my teacher criticized my mom. My mom was
shocked. Criticize her? What for? Well, Mom, I said, remember all
those evening school events we usually don’t attend?
“Those
useless non-events? That’s what she’s criticizing me for, for not
hauling myself out in the evening after working a day job, working at
home, looking after you and wanting nothing but to get into an early
bed? That’s what’s wrong with me?”
Yeah, Mom”, I laughed "that’s what’s wrong with you".
“Hey, remember, chum, this was a mutual decision. After the first few we went to, we both decided it was a waste of time.”
“Yep.
I remember. You don’t get any complaint out of me for bypassing them.
I’m just telling you what my esteemed teacher said.”
“She said... What did she say?”
“That you’ve got your priorities screwed up.”
“She said that? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?”
“Don’t
get mad at me, Mom, I’m just telling you what she said. I don’t think
that way. In fact, I felt really bad, insulted that she would even
mention you. You are none of her business. I just walked away from
her.”
“Oh.”
After that Mom didn’t have too much to say
about Mrs. McVetty. Although I gave her plenty of opportunity. It was
like, every day coming home from school she’d ask how was school and I’d
tell her how awful it was. Because of our teacher.
Like, what
kid wants to go to school to be screamed at every damn day? And she
picked on me a lot. No, not just me, most of the other kids got it too,
but me especially. That’s my opinion.
She’d get this idea that
you were doing something you weren’t supposed to and she’d keep going at
you until you were ready to scream. Even about who your friends were.
A teacher is supposed to teach. She hardly does that, most of the
time. You don’t expect a teacher to be a social worker, to get herself
all worked up about the kids in her class having friends. Some kids
don’t deserve to have friends. They turn on people who are decent to
them. That’s what happened to me.
There’s this girl, Shawna,
not Shawna MacDonald, Shawna Boyd. Everyone likes Shawna MacDonald.
Shawna Boyd, well everyone just kind of ignored her. I thought she
never did anything to me, why should I ignore her? So I didn’t, I spoke
to her, and she kind of matched herself up with me, and it was annoying
because I didn’t always want her around, but there she was, always in
our group.
The other girls would glare at her and that made me
include her more, but I resented doing it, kind of. She kept
text-messaging me outside school, and I responded, always, but she was
kind of a nuisance, know what I mean? And then I found out that she had
lied to me, telling me that one my friends said horrible things about
me. And then I found out it wasn’t true, and I had it out with her.
Now
I don’t exactly ignore her, I speak to her, but I don’t let her hang
around anymore. That’s just the way it is. So Mrs. McVetty gets on my
case and wants to know all about it, what happened and why. She has no right to do that. I just told her ‘nothing, nothing’s wrong’.
Holly
and Morgan can’t stand Mrs. McVetty, they’re worse than me about her.
You can bet we have lots to talk about, and none of it very flattering
to Mrs. McVetty. Come to think of it, there weren’t many kids in the
class who even liked her, although a couple of kids did defend her
reputation. They thought she was all right. Good for them. They were
her little class pets, so it’s hardly surprising they would come out on
her side. She never yelled at them. Well, hardly ever.
Like,
it’s crazy, she gives us new math work, writes on the board how to
understand the stuff, tells us here’s some homework, and anyone who
doesn’t get it can ask her for special help. I was stupid enough to go
to her a few times and ask for help. I know I was stupid, because she
as much as said so. And instead of helping me she was really sarcastic,
so I would never ask her for any help again. I managed to figure
things out for myself anyway, because I’m really good with homework.
Matter of fact, my friends ask me to help them mostly. Not that I‘m the
smartest kid in the class, I’m not.
There’s a couple of kids who
are good at everything, sports, math, science, history, geography.
Art, too. I can’t draw anything to resemble what it’s supposed to be.
I’m not bad at athletics, but not good, either, although it’s kind of
fun. I am pretty good at
writing. When we get assignments to write poetry or book reviews, or
history reviews, I write the longest reports and reviews, and when I
read my poetry in front of the class everyone listens and I get a huge
applause. But Brian’s a much better poet than I am; he can write poetry
like it’s nothing. I’ve got to feel really upset about something
before I can produce a poem, don’t know why.
Anyway, all of us
were really getting fed up. Not only did we have to put up with all
this screaming abuse day after day, and listening to our teacher accuse
us of being ignorant little brats and worse, but she kept assigning all
kinds of homework. And tests, day after day, one test after another.
The good thing about the tests, though, is that she said anyone who
didn’t get a mark they were proud of, would be allowed to do the test
over. I took advantage of that opportunity all the time, a lot of the
kids didn’t bother. But I figure, anything that helps pump up your
marks at the end of the year is worthwhile. Besides, I know if you keep
doing things over, like repeating things, they eventually stick with
you.
I know I do a lot of complaining about the homework, because
there’s so much of it. But even though I do complain a lot, I don’t
really mind it all that much. I guess I’m pretty organized, that way.
Besides which, I don’t get out all that much, since we live in the
country. It’s not like I can just go for a walk somewhere, other than
on our property, all six acres of it. No thanks, really.
I used
to invite my friends over and I’d go over to their places quite a lot.
We used to sleep over all the time, for the entire week-end. I don’t
do that so much anymore. Don’t really know why, just don’t. I do a lot
of reading though, a whole lot. I treasure my books. Don't like to
lend them out to anyone, because none of my friends are careful enough
with books. I hate dog-eared pages, it's horrible that anyone could do
that with a book. So I do a lot of reading, and sometimes I even read
some of my favourites over again. Sometimes I get bored, but even
though my mom says invite your friends over, I won't.
Anyway, we
see one another all the time at school. Sometimes, for some of us, it’s
enough. More than enough, some of the girls are really irritating
sometimes. The guys not so much, because we don’t really hang out with
them. I heard once, someone told me about a school that decided to
separate the boys from the girls, and kept them in separate classes, so
they could do an experiment that organized classes to be taught in a way
that the teachers thought would be better for the boys, and the same
for the girls. I think that sucks. It’s much better when the guys and
the girls are together, in one class. It’s far more interesting. With
the guys around you never know when something really funny is going to
happen.
Yes, I’m kind of off track. I was explaining, or I meant
to explain, how kind of mysterious it is that all of a sudden, Mrs.
McVetty isn’t there any more. I don’t mean upstairs, in her head, we’re
kind of convinced she’s not all there, actually. I mean for a few days
last week we had ‘spares’ come in. When that happens, it’s guaranteed
to be a boring day. They don’t teach, they just depend on you to do
work that’s been assigned by your normal teacher. And if there’s no
work that’s been assigned, the spares just look at what Mrs. McVetty has
written down for them, and tell us to get on with things that way.
Couldn’t be more boring. We learn nothing, nothing at all. That really, truly bugs me.
And
then last week this guy came in. Said he’d be around awhile. He’s a
new teacher, looks like he’s around 26, or something. I doubt he’s had
all that much experience, although he told us he has. He said he’d be
filling in for Mrs. McVetty for the rest of the year. We’ve got almost
two months left in the school year, and she’s opted out. She said
nothing to us, nothing at all. She did say, at the start of the school
year, she said it was a pledge: she would do everything necessary to
completely prepare us for high school. She promised. And then what did
she do? bog off, that's what. That really burns me up.
Seemed
at first it would be a big relief. No more headaches, no more having to
stick our fingers in our ears while she screeches at us, telling us
we’re the worst class she’s ever had, absolute morons. She didn’t use
that word, but it was what she meant.
This guy is okay. I don’t
think all that much of him, actually. Just another teacher, certainly
not the best I’ve had, but not the worst, either. The worst is no
longer in our classroom. It’s too early, I guess, to see whether he’ll
be any better than her at teaching us stuff. But already we can see
he’s not into all the stuff she was, assigning us poetry and book review
studies, and math and geography and science. He’s a bit of a wuss, we
all thought.
I asked some of the guys what they thought of him.
Shrug. You’d think they might be more interested, kind of, because
he’s a guy and they’re guys, but it doesn’t seem like they’re reacting
that way at all. It’s just kind of as though they’re disinterested.
Guess
Mrs. McVetty knocked the stuffing out of all of us. He’s got his own
take on the curriculum, and classes aren’t slopping over any more. We
hardly get any homework. You’d think I’d be happy about that, but I’m
not. I miss the homework, I really do.
And, guess what? I
actually feel a little cheated about not having homework to do after
school. It’s like I feel my academic credentials will be plummeting, I
won’t be learning as much as I need to know, and that really, truly
sucks. If you’d asked me a month ago if I’d be feeling like this I
would never have believed it.
I mean we really had an awful load
of stuff to get done, every day of the week, and week-ends no
exceptions. It was a miserable burden, even if we did get used to it.
And now, all of a sudden, nothing. Okay, maybe we should just kind of
adjust, coast on the fact that we’ve got it easy now for the rest of the
school year. But it just doesn’t feel right.
So, we should
celebrate because we don’t get headaches any more being exposed to some
adult who isn’t capable of mustering enough internal resources to calmly
teach and discipline the people in the class who are always out of
line? You’d think so. I’d have thought that way.
Okay, the same
kids are still acting up. At first this guy, Mr. Masterson, just
calmly put them in their place. And they shut up. Then that didn’t
work any more. And he began yelling. It was different than what Mrs.
McVetty used to do. This is a guy, and he raises his voice, and it’s
loud and strong, not shrill and excited. Just a big, surprising blast.
And everyone shuts up.
He yells “I don’t have to take this crap!”. And everyone shuts up.
