I always sit in the back of the classroom.

I always sit in the back of the classroom.

Partly, it’s because I’m tall. I don’t want people complaining they can’t see because my head’s in the way. That attracts exactly the kind of attention –any—that I don’t want from teachers.

But mostly, it’s because I want to stay out of their way. I keep out of their way, teachers keep out of my way. I don't talk. Sometimes they come over to repeat the directions to me, and if I get it, I’ll do what they said. If not, I just sit there. As long as you don’t cause trouble, or talk, or nothing, they won’t bother you too much. Most of them just want to get out of here, just like us.

It doesn’t matter that I’m always late. The other students know where I sit, and they don’t sit there. Maybe it’s because I’m tall, maybe it’s because I hang out with all the kids who are always getting suspended, but they never take my seat, and nobody messes with me.

Today I was late. I swung around the corner of the trailers and saw my teacher at the other end. What was she doing in the walkway? They’re supposed to be waiting for us in the classroom, handing out fake high-fives and chipper “good morning”s to the kids who suck it up like it’s real. By now, she should have been in there, solemnly intoning that the Warm Up Activity is silent and “you are working alone, silently,” as though repeating it would make it happen.

I was much closer than her, and swished in the door a good ten seconds before she got near it. I stood inside the classroom a second, taking in the substitute, the other students’ confusion and excitement that our teacher was missing, and then I swung the door back open. Held it until the teacher got into class, nodded with a carefully blank face at her thanks, and moved into my seat in the back of the classroom, where nobody bothers me.

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Such a small thing. And yet it ended my week, a terribly ugly week, with a flash of beauty and a moment of gentle manners, of one person caring for another for just a second with common courtesy. As I walked out of school, I hugged that moment to myself, and it is going to give me the strength to return to school on Monday and keep teaching. Or whatever it is I’m doing.

Don't Come to Me With The Entire Truth

Olav H. Hauge

Don't come to me with the entire truth.

Don't bring me the ocean if I feel thirsty,

nor heaven if I ask for light;

but bring a hint, some dew, a particle,

as birds carry only drops away from water, 

and the wind a grain of salt.