The other day in H. Brit Lit we were starting an independent novel, and Ms. Saunders was reading off this list of possible books (the qualifications just required it be written by a British author) and she came to a book by Joseph Conrad, the same guy who wrote "Heart of Darkness," this book I would have read had I taken one of the Evil classes with Scott at GHP. Nevertheless, we had briefly discussed it, and Scott had given me a copy, and with it, a suggestion: "Finish it on the drive home." Well, in that moment, I remembered, and thought, "Aha! I'll read Heart of Darkness!" So I raise my hand enthusiastically, beaming from ear to ear, for what seems like the first time in weeks, because that class is such a bore and annoyance. And Ms. Saunders calls on me, with her little deadpan face.
Imagine, if you will, an attractive thirty-something year old who had been kidnapped at birth and thrown into a nunnery, where she would live out the course of her young adulthood, learning how to best redden the knuckles of pupils with rulers, avoid unholiness, etc., etc. Now you've got Saunders. She was, of course, never legitimately kidnapped, but she gives preschoolers bible study lessons on Wednesday evenings and ends each class with, "Remember, don't do drugs!" So... she may as well have been. Now, with that being said, I can recount our exchange.
Me: "What about Heart of Darkness?"
Her: "Uhm... well, honestly, that is a rough text."
(to the class) "If you're taking AP Lit next year, you'll be reading it anyway. And it's such a difficult piece of literature, you're going to want to read it with the help of Mrs. Dye."
Huh. Funny. I thought I asked the question, not my loquacious, text-message sneaking classmates. Even so, she knows I'm taking AP Lit next semester. As a junior. So I can squeeze in both AP Lit and AP Lang. She knows I went to GHP, she knows I'm not at the same level as the rest of my classmates... or so she should. It's kind of been our understanding that I'm a few notches above the rest of them; we even chatted after school one day and planned a preemptive counterattack on them for being such little bitches. We had an unspoken bond. Until this day.
It just got me thinking about how much this state needs GHP, about how much I need GHP. A place where my talents were both recognized and stimulated, where reading wasn't seen as a tiresome chore. I told my mom about this particular occurrence, one of many since my return, and her response?
"Stop being such a snob."
Oh, my bizzle. Sorry, mom! I forgot that, in this society, being an intellectual, being perceptive and giving a shit about the ignorance of those around me, is a sign of pretension.
On a lighter note, we were discussing wisdom in AP Psych today, and as a preemptive experiment, Dr. Jezequel gave us a sheet of paper telling a story about a married couple (in my mind, they were dubbed, "John and Kate Minus Eight") who were dealing with common life issues. Pre-marriage, John was offered a job overseas, so he packed up his bags and soon-to-be-wifey and git, git, got. Once overseas, the two married, yielding a product of their passionate love, i.e. baby. Kate propels herself back into the work force, bringing home a slice of bacon, but recognizes the possibility of one day being given a full porker for her productivity (moving up on the profiting ladder). John is offered a transfer back home to the U.S. after his few years in Europe or wherever, and so the problem arises: does he move home, where he could have a wonderful job and life, or remain in Europe to raise his child with a working momma?
Well, a lot of kids answered either, "He should divorce and take the tot." or "She should be an independent woman without that bastard." I raised my hand, because I felt it should be said, "What about the kid? Moving little Billy or Billie around will probably traumatize him or her. They should stay where they are." I kind of got quiet and faded off, because Dr. J scares me and I thought I was saying something wrong. Well, apparently not. She began explaining the point of the lab, which was, unbeknown to us, wisdom. And, well, long story short, she explained what the "answers" were -- which were many, and just said, "Well, they could have blah blah blah like some of you said or blah blah blah like others said..." And then she looked at me and said, "I think you danced around this, Chels..." which was a BIG coo because a) she called me by a bit of a pet name, even though it's one I hate and b) she never remembers who says anything, so the fact that she correctly identified me as the speaker means she knew who said it. So she continues to explain her life story of living in Italy till she was entering high school, when her parents had to transfer back, and how a lot of their decision rested on the well-being of their kids. And so, the point of this whole bit was, she said something along the lines of, "So yes, Chels, that was definitely something to focus on, and it shows wisdom beyond your years..." And she continued, but I just glowed because it was like...
SUCK IT SAUNDERS! I AM WISE!
