Member-only story
They Taught Us to be Tongueless Slaves
When the world needed outspoken warriors
“You are as much at fault as the three others,” said my class teacher, Mrs. Butter, who taught me only for one year in third grade, but made an impact for a lifetime.
We were now in seventh grade. It had taken me four years to recuperate from her deliberate attempts to turn me into a doormat. Thanks to music, and my music teacher who recognized my talent and gifted me importance, I could move away from where she wanted me to be.
From being an otherwise meek, average student academically, I had grown into becoming a confident singer and writer for the school. Most of my 20-minute recess breaks were spent practicing for the school band.
My friends — a nerdy and extremely possessive group of three girls — did not like this. So they decided to take revenge in a rather absurd manner.
Without warning, one of the four, let’s call her Rose, decided to throw the almost 7-pound school bag from the third floor to the ground. Thanks to gravity, whatever is thrown down has to land somewhere. Had I known that our class was just two floors directly above Mrs. Butter’s classroom, I would have been more careful. The sack landed right in front of Mrs. Butter’s classroom — a teacher who I could not face even after five years.
