Shadow Puppets

Some people are so far from enlightenment that they aren't even on the first level of Plato's Cave. They're lost in the parking lot outside the Cave, unable to even find the ticket booth. No, they're out in the woods along the creek across the highway from the parking lot to the Cave.

I'd actually managed to avoid subbing gigs that put me in the classroom with those two little kids I alluded to in the previous post, Cafeteria Food. But today, I ended up being stuck third hour with that dissonant little Treasure Troll who, last time, instead of going to the office like I told him to, decided to stick around and pace around, insulting me.

So here's how it went down. Third hour, I was seriously considering just preemptively sending him to the office, because there is no statute of limitations on the outrageous behavior he perpetrated last time. But I actually had a teacher's aide that hour who insisted he'd be good for this class, because he knows he'll get in trouble with the teacher tomorrow. Yeah, right. But whatever, I passed out their little worksheet and sat in a desk at the back of the room, ready to pounce at a second's notice.

Eventually, over something as petty as the act of confiscating his rubber bands, he decided to make an issue out of it. I explained to him that not everything has to be a battle, so just give me the fucking rubber bands and move on with your life. I explained that I had every right to just send him to the office anyway, because of last time, of which he was more than skeptical. I said, "I don't hold grudges--" he interrupted, "I do."

I retorted, "Well, that's charming. But my mandate does not include compassion."

By the time I was explaining why he should straighten up, my voice raised to Threat Level Orange, and I pointed authoritatively between his eyes, saying, "I can give you detention simply by writing your name down, so don't push me."

By this point, the rest of the class hushed their chatter and turned to watch us. I continued, "See, the entire class just went dead silent because they know a scene is about to break out." The failed abortion attempt simply spun around to address the class in mock apprehension, "Haha, oooh, a scene is about to break out!" (Because, apparently, the extent of his wit is simply to repeat what he just heard someone else say.)

Liquid ice boiled inside me: absolute zero, yet a raging inferno. The room went slightly dark, and time slowed to a crawl, then to a complete stop. I was suddenly aware of the shift in posture of the teacher's aide, the slack expression on the kid to the far right who didn't quite know what was going on, the nervous amusement painted on the faces of the study groups at the far end of the classroom. In that infinitesimal moment, I heard the whisper of the one known on this blog as a guy in a chicken suit say, "Let him have it. Tell him what you really think of him. He has it coming, and even the other students will understand. Dooo iiiit. What do you have to lose? A hypothetical third-person opinion of your professionalism? There are only three weeks of school left, and half of that will be spent at Wellsville anyway, so what do you have to lose if you go out in a blaze of glory RIGHT NOW? A few hundred bucks? Chump change that you won't even see until late June anyway? This is your time. You are justified. Don't hold back. Don't censor yourself."

I exhaled ever so slightly. My eyes clouded, and Normal Time resumed.

No.

I was not going to do what others might have done in my shoes (read up on the previous post to really grasp what a chronic shithead this kid is, because he truly does not belong in public school). I decided I was not going to carry a black cloud with me for the rest of the day. I decided, either way, I win, because this weekend I am going to Springfield to visit my sister, watch Wolverine, have a Star Wars prequel marathon, go to a sports bar, and have a much-needed weekend of respite, which I haven't had since... since...... since...

No. I made my decision. Because I can make my decision.

All eyes on me. You could hear a pin drop.

I said to this Platonic Troglodyte, "You have a choice. You can choose your actions, but the consequences of those actions are yours alone. It's called accountability. That's part of being an adult. You can choose to act like a child like you are now, or you can choose to grow up, and live in a grown-up world. Either way, it's entirely your choice. And you must accept the consequences of that choice."

The kid sneered and shrugged it off as I went back to the teacher's desk to write a note, but he didn't fuck with me for the rest of the hour. The rest of the class seemed to be in a pretty good mood. And, at lunchtime, during the daily gossip catch-up, the warrior bard ascended to legendary status.


"Choose, and act."
--One of my favorite quotes, involving one of my favorite characters, repeated throughout one of my favorite books, written by one of my favorite authors.


Seventh hour was scheduled to be my free hour. A kid came in with a note from the secretary asking me if I wanted to cover Mr. Fisher's seventh period. A long time ago, I made a mental footnote never to cover that man's seventh period, because it had that same fucking kid in it. Without intending to, I actually laughed in the face of the messenger, then quickly recovered, saying that I had to decline because I had business in Mexico this afternoon, which was true, from a certain point of view. Apparently the teacher was doing the track meet that time and needed someone to cover. I said, calmly, decisively, No.

Thirty minutes later, an announcement was made by the secretary over the PA: Attention... the junior high track meet... and the high school track meet today... is canceled.

Power to the bard. I won. You can't manipulate me into doing something I am not paid to do just because I'm there. Fair is fair: they still have to pay me for a full day when seventh hour is a planning period. Why should I go out of my way, above and beyond, to put myself in a situation I know will turn sour fast? Uh-uh. Not unless you pay me double. So. Because she couldn't find someone to cover, because I had enough of that little skidmark, the track meets were canceled. And I felt warm inside. Instead of choosing to be shat upon, I chose to get off work at 2:05, take a full day's pay, and drive to Mexico to deposit my scrumptious tax refund check. Because I'm going to Springfield, and I could use the money in my account.

It's going to be a glorious weekend... because I have chosen for it to be.

Choose, and act.

Because I've been to more than one level of Plato's Cave. Because I know what the shadow puppets really are.