Wordless Wednesday: We're Ready for Tuesday. Are You?

I AM SO ANGRY!

I don't normally get angry (not like this), but when I do writing it down is my solution. ( I apologize in advance if I offend anyone in my ranting of The Chocolate War. We'll chat later about our opinions on it. Promise.)

Ugh. The source of this body-shaking, mind-boggling, anger is my ever infuriating English teacher. She's an intelligent woman with intelligent things to say, but we're not always on the same page. She has some very different opinions than me, and for those who know me well, I'm always the first one to express mine given the oppurtunity. Anyways, her new book assignment for the next month is a choice between Ayn Rand's Anthem and Robert Cormeir's The Chocolate War. Initially, I picked The Chocolate War (I'm not sure why; probably because my best friend did), but quickly came to learn of the gross content and sick scenes this book harbors. She told us yesterday (after I had made my decision) that this book did have some "disturbing scenes" in it and that it has been banned in other schools.


She also said, "Now I want you all to be mature about this and handle this novel like real adults. Some of the things they mention in here, you should already have learned about in your Health class and your sex education course in Science." I didn't really know what she was referring to (or rather, I tried not to think about what she was referring to), but one of my other friends who had read ahead whispered to me, "That's for sure."



Okay, so this was getting a little bit weird for me. I then raised my hand (if you know me, then you already know what I was going to say) and said, "Mrs. C-----, I'm being very bold here by asking this but, shouldn't you have told us about some of the innapropriate things in here before we made our decision? I think I would have liked to know this yesterday so that I could've made a more educated choice."



I said all of that in that voice that my dad uses all the time to persuade people he's right. That voice that's probably a little too loud and questiones one's authority a little bit too much.


At this point everyone had turned around in their seats and were staring at me - me all alone in the back row - with mixed expressions on their faces. Mrs. C----- looked at me, looked down, looked at the clock (?) and then back to me, suprised that I had made such a comment. She then lashed back with, "Well you hear about all of these things on the bus, at home, on the TV...none of this should be new to you."



Well thank you Mrs. C-----. That is the perfect thing to say in this situation [exclamation point] That totally makes a little Mormon girl with an over-developed sense of superiority feel a lot better.


So then I said to her, "At school and in the halls I have no choice but to hear innapropriate conversation topics and profanity. At home I choose not to watch it on television and choose not to go finding it on the Internet. I also choose not to read it."



Again, all of this in that forceful tone I learned from Prince Charming.



At this point, she was obviously uncomfortable and I was raging - and FREAKED out. I personally couldn't believe I had just told her that and was slightly embarrassed. I also didn't really care just then. She was making me mad. "You can come talk to me after class if you really feel that strongly about it, Alice". I mumbled a "Thanks" but she said under her breath, "I really didn't think anybody would."


I wasn't quite ready to talk to her, so I went back at the end of the day.


I was cooled off (a little) and went up to her desk . She then asked me, brilliant as always, "So what was it that bothered you?" Oh my goodness, Mrs. C-----, where do I start? The bad language? The pornography? Everyone had been talking about it at lunch time, and giggling as they told each other what page to find the such-and-such bad behavior on. I was sickened. I honestly didn't know what to tell her, so I simply asked her for the other book and returned the first. It felt dirty in my hands as I handed it back to her, another tell-tale sign of bad literature. "Are you sure you don't want to give it a chance, Alice? You really can't judge a book before even reading all of it. It really has a wonderful message in it; you have to dig for the deeper meaning." She had a hopeful look on her face, like somehow that worthless comment had changed my mind. Ya right. I shook my head. Wait, wait. There's more.

"Well honey, its probably just where you are in your life right now." She said it in a very final tone, no doubt expecting me to walk out and leave for the day. But really, what in the world was I going to say to that??? Actually, I knew exactly what I was going to say (...'where I am in my life'? I guarantee that I never will be apart of any pre-marital sex EVER and I don't have porn magazines in my room under my bed like the kid in THIS book does. That will never change.), but I didn't, knowing I would just get her and myself more mad.

I was still fuming when I got home, and sat my mom down to tell her everything. She is such a good listener, that woman. She reassured me that I did the right thing, and asked if she should write my teacher an e-mail, agreeing with me. I said no, just that I would apologize the next day. My mom then quoted herself saying, "You know, Alice, 'It's not worth wading through all the muck to get to the good parts'". She had made this comment before concerning a movie, and a time before concerning a friend. I didn't realize how true that statement is until that moment, and I'm grateful for "the spirit...of power, and of love, and of a sound mind," (2 Tim. 1:7-8) that I am blessed with every day.



I think I've finally calmed down. A miracle, writing is.

My thinking silence is broken...

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
~Robert Frost