Not all those who wander are lost.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

You're going to pay me for this?



I can feel a lone bead of sweat slowly tracing out a path behind my left ear. It’s taking its carefully measured time much in the same way that a predator would stalk its prey. The difference, however, is that the slowness is more akin to a death march than a hunt, where all parties involved know exactly what lies at the end of the road. The destination is announced, just like my bead of sweat, non-verbally and well in advance. Anyone who’s ever lent thought to the matter knows that it’s usually the sweat of fear that bares this sickly sluggishness, as if the brain has been terrified into instructing the body’s pores to pump sap instead of salty water.

My mind drifts back to the issue at hand, the source of the fear. In 15 minutes I’m expected to lead 7 Japanese teenagers through an English lesson. No biggie right? The anxiety arises when I think back to what it was like during those years. Too cool for school and not caring were in, destruction and disruption their accomplices. I couldn’t be taught; I learned everything I needed to know about life from the older kids and pornographic magazines. Day-to-day life usually consisted of seeing how many swear words you could fit into a sentence and it still be correct grammatically. “Fuck” became a noun, though none of us really quite knew what it meant. If ever questioned about it, or the definition of any word, the clever ones would find a means to pass the heat onto someone else, and in this way the social structure was ever-changing. I remember spending hours on the internet searching for insults vile enough to be dropped in my circle should the need ever arise. Some were luckier than others in having older siblings to spoon-feed them offensive gold. Additionally, these kids already had a knack for keeping on their toes. If you weren’t always ready you might miss out on the last bowl of Lucky Charms, and trust me, 13 year old envy rarely runs deeper than that last bowl. If these kids are even half as terrible as I was, Karma must have been napping…

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