Shameful

“Go back to your seats, please. Come one. You can giggle right after this class. It is not funny anymore. I want to start with a new lesson but if you guys don’t listen……Come one. Please. Please. Just for now, only for this class right now. Would you please try to focus for like twenty minutes? Please. How about you focus now for a few minutes, and I will let you out a few minutes earlier today. 

The horrifying fact that my teacher stayed so friendly and begged us to be quiet makes my cup of shame overflowing today. She was only twenty-five years old, young and open-minded, with a lack of experiences and self-confidence, unfortunately. And we, my friends and I, we were some savage seventh graders who had everything one their mind but school. I wouldn’t describe me as a bully at this time, but having the control over a teacher made my body release more endorphins than it does on Christmas. 

We just did not stop laughing and disrespecting our teacher. She was actually a really nice person who just tried to teach us the French Revolution. But we were stuck, stuck in our own ridiculous minds. I now feel embarrassed when I think about it. I now want to dig a deep hole, jump into it, and never come back. 

After a while and myriad but unsuccessful tries to calm her herd of frisking students down, my history teacher gave up. She sweated out her last poor drop of confidence and submitted herself to her students. Her face turned beet-red, and she started crying. Most of us did not even notice that, because we were minding our own stupid businesses. As soon as we suddenly all noticed her sitting desperately in the corner of the classroom, holding her head with her hands, we had another, fresh reason to laugh. I remember me growling out of laughter, and I remember that one guy snorting: “Oh my God look at Mrs. Cooper, can someone film that please? Hahaha”. 

After a while, my teacher was still crying, she ran out of the classroom and shut the door behind herself. We students did not care and did not worry about anything at all. We continued doing what we did before: showing ourselves from our worst side. After a little while, I was laying on the floor and giggled so hard, the door got opened again. My teacher came in, but there was someone else next to her: The principal. Having my hands on the ground, I looked up with tamed lips. My skin bristled, my nostrils were breathing out a heavy air of shame and guilt. The entire herd of disoriented students suddenly was quiet. The principal looked at our cold muzzles and then pointed at my history teacher. “I can’t believe you guys are students of my school”. My dewlap became sore, I could barely breathe. The principal got really mad at and held a speech about respect in front of us. After that, I felt guilty. I stood up on my two feet and left the classroom, full of shame. I went home and thought about that class. Why did I act like this? I felt so bad, but I knew that my teacher felt worse. 

The next day, I was ready for my history class, and we were all ready to apologize and show ourselves from our best side, another teacher, not Mrs. Cooper, entered the room and started talking: “You look more polite than I thought”, the old man said. He told us that he was our new history teacher, and that we would jump right into our next topic. When one boy in my class asked him what happened to our old teacher he answered in a blaming voice: “Well, sometimes we are not at the right place at the right time. Not everyone is meant to be a farmer”. I realized that she probably left my school just because we were so disrespectful before. I can imagine how she must have felt. My action made her cry, leave the classroom, and then even the school. A group of seventh-graders hurt her heart with their muddy paws. 

“Shame is a soul eating emotion”

Unknown

One year later, I still remembered that day of shame as it had happened the day before, one of my friends from another school told me about how strict and cold-blooded her history teacher was. Her teacher turned out to be Mrs. Cooper, my old history teacher that I made an object of scorn one year before. I figured out that she indeed switched her working place because of what we did to her. In fact, it turned out that she became really severe. I knew that we changed her whole personality as a teacher. The impact that we had on her was bigger than I thought. She lost all of her confidence and pride as a person. She became as cruel as we were on that day. I still feel guilty when I think about her. I am full of shame.