Conversations with a Skater

Ebola and High School

Jordan came and sat next to me. We were on the patio. I was working on my computer, and he was skipping his class.

I threw him a half glance and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Me?” Jordan grinned.

I shook my head and continued to stare at the screen. “How has your day been?”

Jordan responded, “Eh, same ole, same ole.”

“Wonderful.”

“Wonderful!” He imitated me, but with a peppy ring to his voice.

I closed the laptop screen, obviously, I wasn’t going to get any work accomplished.

“Tell me,” I said turning my head to Jordan’s bespectacled face, “are you keeping your end of the bargain? It is the fourth quarter, you know.”

It hit around 9 o’clock and the sun climbed over the patio wall. It’s fiery rays broke the hidden dimensions around us and a thousand shimmering tiny objects floated all around.

Jordan laughed, “But, I hate this class!”

“Listen, Ms. Green is great, and she says you are showing up. That is half the battle, but you need to get some work done.”

“Oh, that is right you know who my second period is…”

I laughed, “Yeah, so get your act straight.”

“I’m trying.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I find that hard to believe. Anyway, you’ve told me you watch The Walking Dead, right?”

“Yeah”

“Are you following the zombie apocalypse in West Africa?”

“Stop it!”

It’s my turn to smile. “I’m dead serious. People are dropping like flies, it's horrible. They bleed from their eyes, mouths, ears… really any orifices. Then they die in as little as seven days and pass it on to the next person.”

“You’re kidding me,” Jordan’s eyes widened. “What is happening to them?”

“Ebola,” I said.

“E-bo-what?”

“Ebola,” I repeated.

“Well, what is it?”

“Listen, okay so there is this book. You need to read it. The thing is that it reads like fiction, but it is non-fiction. It is scary stuff. I mean the first chapter opens up with an autopsy, I think. You should read it.” I floated the idea coyly. I had been trying to get him to read because Jordan needs to pass the reading portion of the state exam in order to graduate from high school.

“You know, I have been thinking of picking up a book to read.”

‘Good, I have his attention.’ I thought to myself. Aloud I said, very matter of factly, “It’s called ‘The Hot Zone.’ The author is Richard Preston.”

The bell rang.

Jordan stood up as I put away my computer and said, “Okay, Mr. G see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Jordan. Oh, and don’t cut any more classes.”

Several days passed until I ran into Jordan again.

“Mr. G!” He shouted at me.

I turned and saw him waving as he walked down the stairs. I waited for him.

“Mr. G,” Jordan repeated, “I got the book! Oh my God, it’s intense! I read like two whole hours yesterday. I just couldn’t put it down! I need to talk about it!”

I couldn’t hide my smile, “Go to class! We will talk about it when you are done reading it.”

And there it was—right there—I just opened up someone’s horizons, I introduced him to something bigger than himself than his troubles, than his jailed brother, than his household monetary problems, than his lack of credits for graduation, than his sadness, than his lack of direction, than his household of 6 with only one person working—his mother. These are the moments that reinforce my love for my job.

———

I understand that the Ebola virus does not turn people into zombies. I also understand that it is a horrible, terrible, disease that destroys lives and communities, however, my point in broaching the subject to the youth, in such a manner, was to bring awareness of the current event—in an interesting fashion—to a youth that otherwise would have no interest in it. I deeply sympathize for those suffering in the West African Ebola outbreak.