Frankly Told: Erased Ink
The students poured out of the buildings in groups. The noise, a sign of the breath of life the lunchtime bell breathed back into the campus. He stood with a paper stapled to his chest by slightly trembling hands.
Through the open door, he heard his name. The room was slightly darker than the courtyard it opened to and it only further fanned his anxiety. The teacher sat behind heaps of books and papers, viciously marking through work. Aside from her, was only one other teacher who sat on the opposing end of the staffroom. Only acknowledging his presence with a nod, he returned to reading the newspaper and sipping on something in his cup.
His hesitant steps seemed to echo loudly as they dragged on the unpolished terrazzo floor. With each step, his mouth got a little drier. As he drew nearer and nearer to the desk, his teacher pushed aside the stack of exercise books she was tearing through with her red pen. She gestured for him to grab the seat that stood against the wall. He took it and fumbling, placed it before the desk before he sat down.
“Okay,” she began. “I see you carried the paper with you but put it aside for now.”
She patted the side of the desk, her perfectly manicured, clear coat nails rapping on the wood. He looked down at his chest then back at her before placing the slightly crumpled paper on the desk, facing down. His eyes remained trained to the sheet as if he was tethered to it. The teacher cleared her throat, redirecting his attention.
“Would you like to tell me what is going on here?” the teacher prodded.
Somehow, he couldn’t move his lips to answer and only maintained the eye contact that held him frozen in the seat. He was intimidated, not by anger but the care with which she approached him, in contrast to his expectation. Her eyes looked softly at him, glazed over with care. Her posture, like that of a mother reaching out to her wounded child. His lips fell apart but came together again as his words escaped.
“Go on,” she urged. “I am only going to listen. I would like to know, what went on with this paper in particular? I have never seen you produce such results and honestly, I am surprised… I was surprised to write that down. I know this mark is not yours, so I ask again, what is going on here?”
“I-I don’t know,” was all that slipped out and his head fell, he couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.
“You know, if there is anything that caused you to get such marks, I would really like to know what it is,” she affirmed. “Is the class that difficult?”
He shook his head.
“Is there something you are not understanding in the class?” she questioned.
He half-shook his head.
“Is there anything outside school and classes?” she pushed.
He almost shook his head again but something stopped him. She nodded and leaned back in her seat with an exhale. Her fingers crossed over each other and she inhaled softly.
“You know, I have always known you to be a very smart young man,” the words fell from her mouth like a hug. “If there was something I could do, I would love to. As it stands now, the ball is in your court. You are one year to your final papers as a primary school pupil and the last thing I would want is for you not to get to the school you want and worse off the career you want.”
She sat up, reached over the desk and placed her hand over the paper. He looked up and met her eyes. Behind them were warmth and love causing him to look away as he felt his tears evoked and he pushed the feelings further down his throat. Everything inside him screamed to cry but he was too stubborn to.
“Do me a favour,” she implored. “Let this be the last time you see this kind of marks. I would like to see you graduate and go on to be successful and happy in life. It is again, up to you. If this is the you you think you are, I need you to reflect, pull yourself together, and give me the you I know you are. Otherwise, we will both have failed and I don’t know about you but me I don’t like to fail. Sawa?”
That made him crack a little smile and he simply nodded. The lump in his throat let go of the constriction it had on his airway and he could breathe again. The boulder in his belly grew slightly lighter as he looked at his teacher again. She gave him a nod and he nodded again. She leaned back in her seat and he took the paper from the desk, holding it close to his chest again.
“Now, go eat your lunch.” she gestured him off.
He shook his head and smiled at the warmth the memory gave him, vivid, as if it was only yesterday. He was on the edge of laughing to himself as he stood in place before his desk. His reflection smiling in the mirror hanging on the wall in his dormroom. On the desk below it sat a laptop with a “Call ended” screen.
A single tear escaped his bravado. Swiping it away he straightened up, checking himself in the mirror. A cool breeze swept through the room window and fluttered around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the red mark on one of the papers pinned to his little board next to the mirror. He gripped the cap tighter, holding it to his chest and the gown flowed into the wind as it left through the window.
His phone vibrated on the desk. The screen flickered on and composing himself with a breath, he picked up. The familiar sound of children came through the speaker before anything else. A smile spread across his lips until his cheeks hurt slightly with false confidence.
“I … I did it,” was all he could say before he broke down completely into a mess of sobs and sniffles.
“Thank you for believing in me, mum.”
