February 16, 2015
This last past week, something deeply disturbing happened to me. It was an event that I cannot squeeze out of my mind. Something that causes me distress. I witnessed something close to bullying; but this time it was only partly by students.
It all happened in forth period History class. We were watching a documentary about the Independence Hall, until we all noticed that the person being interviewed look somewhat like my history teacher. Most of us laughed and made smart remarks to my teacher, until it went a little overboard. One of my good friends (who I was sitting next to) whispered over to one of my other classmates, telling her something like "He kinda looks like his son (meaning the teacher's son)." The second he said such a thing, she began to burst with laughter. "That's hecka messed up!!" she yelled, giggling to herself. Soon enough, most people in my class where asking what he had said, and before he knew it, everyone knew. They were all laughing to themselves and giving my friend a hard time. My teacher, becoming curious, kept asking my friend what he had said. "Nothing..." he said repeatedly, smiling softly. Suddenly, the classroom went from laid back and talkative to awkward and strangely silent. My teacher's eyes focused on my friend and asked in a not so pleasant voice, "Do you want to say that again?" Then the class went silent. My friend looked down at his lap and said "No." Growing more "curious", my teacher (after asking repeatedly), finally said, "Why don't you? I would like a good laugh. If it's so funny, why don't you tell me?" I remember looking over at my friend and thinking, "He doesn't deserve all this." In panic, my friend began hyperventilating; a common symptom of a panic attack. Although I found his unusual breathing concerning, other's thought nothing of it. They began to giggle and laugh. I found there reaction to his panic juvenile and idiotic. After about 20 seconds of heavy breathing, I kept calling out to him, hoping he would respond. But he didn't. He kept staring into the distance as if he were hypnotized. I was convinced he were going to faint. I shook him softly, but nothing. I shook him again, but nothing. Then, after roughly shaking him, his breathing went back to normal, and tears welled in his eyes. He rummaged through his desk, hoping everyone's attention would come off of him and back at the documentary; but it didn't. Then my teacher asked me, "Jen, why don't you take your buddy outside so that he can get a drink." I agreed willingly, hoping I could sooth the nerves of my friend. Once we had exited the classroom and walked over to the drinking fountain, I hugged him. "It's all right," I told him, "everything will be fine." Hugging back, he shared his concerns with me. I kept telling him that our teacher really had no reason to become angry at him. After he had felt comfortable enough to return to class, we joined the class in watching the documentary. He didn't speak a word the rest of the period.
-Kerplunkster
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