You Deserve Nothing - Alexander Maksik [63]
“Yes, Colin,” Silver said, cold, “but what does it have to do with me?”
Ariel had been watching Colin with renewed interest.
“I guess I’m just wondering if all this courage you want us to have, I just wonder, sir, if it’s the kind of courage you have yourself. I mean if I can ask that, without being rude.”
Silver glanced away from Colin and out to the field where a light fog had filled the space between the bare poplar trees and the low buildings of the school. He seemed to contemplate the question and then, turning back, he said, “I’ve never pretended to be an example, or to have more courage than anyone else. I’ve never claimed to be braver or stronger or more capable of action than anyone else. But then, that doesn’t really answer your question does it? Do I have the kind of courage Sartre had? That’s the question, right?”
Silver said this quietly. He seemed deflated, melancholy. The anger and icy cadence gone.
“Yes, sir.”
“No, I don’t think I do. Why, Colin? Why the question?”
After a long pause he shook his head. “Nothing, sir. I was just wondering.”
“How can you say that?” Hala asked, staring at Silver incredulous.
“What? Say what, Hala?”
“How can you claim you’re not an example?”
“Hala, I didn’t say that, I didn’t say that I wasn’t an example. I just never argued that I was. Or should be.”
“Mr. Silver,” Jane said exasperated, her cheeks red. “As a teacher, I mean, as a teacher you are an example. I mean, even if you never said it, even if you never explicitly said it.”
“That’s the point, in your role, you have an a priori responsibility, a priori as Sartre says.” Hala went on, nodding at her allusion. “You may not claim to be an example, but you are nonetheless. You are anyway. You don’t get to decide how people see you. And you know, right? That you are an example to a lot of the students at this school, Mr. Silver? I’m sorry, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you don’t get to choose.”
Silver took a deep, slow breath. “Well, Hala, I don’t know. I don’t know how many people really see me as an example. But that’s for another discussion. I do play a role in how I’m perceived. The clothes I wear, the things I say, the way I say them. I, as we all do, cultivate an image. I’m no more pure than anyone else. What is far more important is that all of these people who supposedly consider me an example, they also make a choice don’t they? They decide to see me one way or another, right?”
I watched Silver carefully as he spoke. As I studied his eyes and watched his mouth move, the way he picked at the dead skin on his thumb, my heart beat faster and harder. I felt something rising in me and when he came to the end of his question, I let out an exasperated breath.
He turned to me, his eyes sad. He seemed so tired.
“Gilad? Something you want to say?”
I glanced at Colin. He was looking at me.
“Mr. Silver, I just, I wonder if you believe all of that.” I felt nauseated and my face was hot. I wiped my hands on my jeans. He narrowed his eyes. He seemed surprised by my question.
“What do you mean, Gilad? Believe what?”
“I mean, do you actually expect that a tenth grader, someone fifteen or sixteen, you expect that they make this decision? That they’re capable of deciding how to see you? Of really, fairly judging you, judging your, I don’t know, your authenticity? They make a decision to see you one way or another? That you, I don’t know, share the responsibility of the thing? You and the student? That it’s equal?”
We all looked at him and waited for an answer. We barely moved, all of us unified in our anticipation. Silver looked at me, and this time I held his gaze. He turned to Colin. The tension was terrible.
Abdul coughed. Silver turned to him. “What do you think, Abdul?”
Then I was angry, I felt a surge of rage. How dare he rely on Abdul.
Abdul rocked back and forth, his nervous nod taking over his whole body. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure.”
“About what, Abdul?”
“I don’t know. Yeah, you’re a teacher. So you’re responsible, yeah.