Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [27]
Anyway, Ms. Graham was going on about how this was one of her favorite scenes, and if everybody would just settle down and listen they’d really enjoy it. Her face was alive, like she meant it, like it mattered—and all of a sudden I got this flash of why she wanted to be a teacher. She actually cares about this stuff.
When I think that, I feel really bad. Caring about something so much it hurts and having everybody laugh at you—talk about brutal. I pictured Ms. Graham as a teenager with her nose in some book, and the whole school teasing her and being mean. Well, it’s thirty years later and nothing’s changed. How does she get out of bed in the morning?
My head filled with this crazy idea that I should stand on my desk and yell at everyone to shut up. Of course I didn’t. I’m not suicidal. But I had the idea.
As per usual, Nicky Wicks was the ringleader. He’s discovered he can make himself cross-eyed by touching his tongue to his nose, and he kept turning around to show the card players at the back, who found it majorly hilarious.
“Nicky!” Ms. Graham said. Nicky stopped. Two seconds later he was doing it again. “Nicky!!” Nicky stopped. Two seconds later, the same thing. “Nicky!!!” This went on until nobody was paying any attention to Ms. Graham’s favorite scene at all. They were just laughing at Nicky, who was basically daring her to do something.
She did.
Out of the blue, she wheeled to the blackboard, grabbed a yardstick, charged at Nicky and smashed it down. He leaned back just in time. The yardstick broke across his desk. Everyone froze. She could have cracked his head open.
Ms. Graham went white as chalk. The end of the yardstick fell out of her hand. She teetered there looking around the room at the silent faces. It was as if she wasn’t sure where she was or what had happened. And then this tear slid down her cheek and onto her neck. She didn’t say anything, just turned and wobbled out of the room slowly, like a robot.
Things stayed quiet for a long time. Then someone whispered, “Are you all right?” to Nicky. He nodded. In a few minutes, the talking was wild. Mr. Manley came in, and everything went silent again. He glared at us: “Get to work, people.” Everyone opened their binders and kept their heads down.
Poor Ms. Graham. She didn’t mean to lose it. If you ask me, it’s a miracle she hasn’t attacked someone before. Also a miracle that Nicky’s brains aren’t splattered all over the ceiling. If they were, there’d have been TV crews all over the place, and her picture would have been plastered everywhere. Now this’ll all be forgotten, except by our class. And Ms. Graham. I bet it haunts her till the day she dies.
“There but for the grace of God go I.” Katie’s started to say that a lot. It’s weird hearing it come from somebody under forty, but Katie says she doesn’t care. Her church told her it’s good to say it when you see somebody homeless or really sick. From now on I’m going to say it whenever I think of Ms. Graham.
Seventeen
Things happening with or without a reason, things we regret—maybe that’s why old people lose their minds. Their heads get too full of things they’d rather forget.
I know mine will. It’s packed already. There are so many things I’ve done that make me ashamed. Like never standing up for Ms. Graham. She may be a lousy teacher, but she tries. And how have I thanked her? By bad-mouthing her behind her back and sleeping in the middle of her lessons.
Mom wouldn’t do that. She sticks up for people. I remember buying groceries with her a couple of years back. At the checkout counter, there was a little boy ahead of us with his mother. He took a candy bar from the lowest rack by the cash register. His mother yelled, and he cried, and she started hitting him.
Mom said in a loud voice, “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?” The woman said it was none of Mom’s business. Mom said, “Children being hit is everyone’s business.” The whole line was staring at us. I was so embarrassed. But the woman stopped beating on her kid, and afterwards I was proud of Mom for doing it.
That’s