When Delinquents Meet Scissors

, , , , , , | Learning | January 2, 2019

(I am in eighth grade. The Family and Consumer Sciences teacher is in her mid-60s, and to be honest she is probably too old to be teaching. She is a short, almost frail woman, and she holds no authority over the students. A small group of us — myself included — are seated at the large tables closest to her desk, listening and attempting to complete a sewing project for our final grades. The other 25-odd students have completely ignored her instructions and are either grouped up and talking, or they have gotten on the computers. I have my back to the individual desks when suddenly there is a scream. As I turn around, I see two students — a girl and a guy — fighting, pushing each other, and pushing into the desks around them. The girl quickly falls to the floor, and the guy turns around and storms towards the classroom door.)

Teacher: *yelling* “What is going on?! Where are you going?!”

(The door to the classroom slams shut. Within seconds, the girl stands up. At this point, the entire class is quiet, focused on what’s going on. As the girl turns around and faces the class, I see that the entire right side of her face is completely covered in blood. She looks like a two-faced comic book villain. But the shocking part is that as she disentangles herself from the desks and moves to the center of the room, she is smiling. Then, she begins to cackle gleefully. She has a large build, towering over the teacher. She doesn’t look at anyone, but leisurely strolls toward the door.)

Girl: *in a sing-song voice* “Oh, I’m going to f****** kill that b****!”

(She disappears into the hallway and a second later the door slams again. I notice a bloody handprint along the edge of the wall. The entire class just sits there in stunned silence. After a moment, the teacher speaks.)

Teacher: *sharply* “Everyone back to their assigned seats, NOW!”

(There is a momentary scramble, and everyone is suddenly where they should be.)

Teacher: “I don’t know what just happened, but that is not acceptable!” *her voice begins to rise until she is screaming* “I have told you guys a million times to listen to me! None of you ever listen! None of you care! You’re all going to kill each other and you’re all going to jail! You hear me? YOU’RE ALL DELINQUENTS!”

(At this moment, a student that has spent the entire class in the front office comes waltzing in. He immediately stops when he sees how quiet the room is, sensing the tension. All eyes turn to him.)

Student: “Uh, hey, guys, what’s up?”

Teacher: *completely explodes* “AND YOU’RE A DELINQUENT, TOO!”

Student: “What? What did I do? I wasn’t even here!” *quickly finds his seat and sits down*

(The teacher continued to tear us a new one, pretty much until the final bell rang. As I stiffly left the classroom, I saw many bloody hand prints and smears of blood all the way up to the end of the elective hall. Once I got home, I deflated and cried to my mother about what had happened. I later found out that both students were arrested and taken away in police cars. The girl had a small cut on her eyebrow, the result of the guy throwing a pair of scissors at her. Though the cut was not very large, it was deep, and required a couple of stitches. Had the scissors been about half an inch lower, she could have lost her eye. I’m not sure if charges were pressed, but both students were suspended. My best friend was neighbors with the guy and said that she didn’t think he spent more than a night in police custody, as she saw him the following morning. I later found out that the girl sought help for some underlying issues and within a year, she was doing much better. She and I were fairly acquainted, but we never spoke of that day. The teacher also retired a year or two later. A few students from that class are actually in jail now.)

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