The Secret

Our writing assignment for our Writers Group this week was for us to tell each other something that we have never divulged to anyone in the group before. I chose one small event from my past and had to go all the way back to my high school days to do it! That being said, here is "My Secret".....

My Secret Story

Writing Group Assignment for September 5, 2014

This story that I am about to share with you has haunted me for years. This is truly the first time I’ve ever shared it with anyone. First, roll the clock back to the year 1964, sometime in the early spring, I think it was. The country was obsessed with social change, the Vietnam war, and college campuses erupting in fury.  For me, it was a confusing, and on this one day, a very scary time…

It was just at the end of my Typewriting I class, and as per usual, I joined the queue of students returning our books to their customary place on the book shelf beneath the windows. Dust mites lazily floated in the late afternoon sunshine, and all I could think about was meeting with my friends after school down at the corner store. Suddenly, my back exploded in a world of pain and I fell forward into the book shelf, and landed on the floor. My classmates screamed and/or yelled, depending on their sex – and I thought I had been shot. It was hard to breathe and as the kids all crowded around me, one solitary figure loomed above them all – the teacher, Mr. Davis – and the look on his face was one of pure, unadulterated rage.  Too stunned to even speak, I gasped up at him, my eyes begging to know what had happened. At last, he spoke:

“HOW DARE YOU!” he boomed at me.  “I said hello to you as you walked past me and you never even looked at me, much less answered me!”  His face was an ugly reddish purple, with huge throbbing veins in his forehead clearly standing out. My heart began to beat at a ridiculous rate of speed, and all I could do was cry. Apparently, in a terrible fit of anger, he slapped me as hard as he could, square in the center of my back. Hot tears streamed down my face, as my friends bent down to help me to my feet. Shaking like a leaf, and on weak and trembling legs, I was helped to the Nurse’s office by my now irate friends, as the boys in the room encircled Mr. Davis. I don’t know what happened in that room next, and I really did not care. Mr. Davis had a reputation for having a really bad, explosive temper, and few people deliberately crossed him, ever.

Safely in the confines of the Health Office, I managed to tell the nurse what had happened as best as I could. Her face showed extreme shock and surprise – and something else: extreme worry and fear. Then, she asked me two simple questions:

“Do you want me to call your parents, Marie? Should I call the authorities?”  I knew somehow with a knowledge far beyond my years that my next sentence would have a profound, life-long effect upon that man and could have the power to either help…or destroy… him.  I thought of his wife and his two adorable little children – and wondered what they would do if their father wound up in jail. I wondered what this might do to his marriage, and therefore his entire family. No matter how upset I was, or in how much pain, shock and surprise, I just could not be the one to help take that man away from his family. Such are the errors of the young!

“No. I’m ok,” I weakly replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her hand gently resting upon my own hand.

“Yes. I’m sure. I know he didn’t really mean it – he has a very bad temper and for whatever reason, he just lost it.” I finished.

“Is that it?” she asked, not quite sure she heard me correctly or not.

“I would like one thing, “ I said, “and that is for him to come in here and apologize to me.” 

Without another word, she went to get Mr. Davis.

 It looked as if he had been crying, or so it seemed. His eyes were red and his now very pale face was wet with either tears or sweat, or perhaps both.  He sat down in a chair in front of me, his head hanging sheepishly low, his eyes avoiding mine.

“I – I’m so sorry, Marie,” he stammered, “I don’t know what came over me! I just wanted so much for you to say hello to me and when you didn’t, I just lost it,” he finished lamely.

I thought about it for only a moment, and then replied,
“Mr. Davis. I think you need some counseling for your bad temper, before things get out of control again. You have your wife and children to think about, so don’t do this for me, do it for yourself and for them.” 

As far as I know, I was told this is what he did do. He went on to enjoy a very good career, minus his horrific temper-filled outbursts, even managing to become Assistant Vice Principal.

Was I right or wrong? At the time, I felt I had made the right choice. You see, I knew he was a good person down deep but I also knew he had a real problem with anger. I look back on it all in my later years and thank God that I had the insight to try to be a help to this man – although, I admit, it may not have been the wisest choice at the time.

But, that is me. I act “off the cuff” and will go the distance for a fellow human being, sometimes, no matter what.

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Please note that I did not use my former teacher's real name.