Fall, Falling, Fallen

Samantha Benson

While I had been singled out in my least favorite way and Ms. Perkins definitely grew to my least favorite, I could tell she immediately felt bad. As all the students were gawking she looked dead straight into my eyes - I looked like a dear in the headlights - and mouthed sorry before quickly speaking up. She was in her thirties and compared to many others she was dressed casually in a white t-shirt and high-waisted mom jeans. She had dark brown hair and her eyes and smile were soft and kind. Smiles to me always determined a person's personality. There was a lot you could tell from them.

"Anyways," Ms. Perkins said clasping her hands together to draw attention to the front, "This isn't going to be like tenth grade English. This is AP English where I am supposed to challenge you and treat you like this is a college-level class. I don't know what colleges you all want to attend or where maybe your parents expect you to attend, but what I do know, college is suppose to challenge the way you see things and help you grow. So I will do that."

Every English teacher made this speech of changing your minds and making you see the world differently through literature, but so far my mom and her friends were the only ones who had ever done that.

"Of course I have my restrictions," Ms. Perkins continued, "I have been given a set of required texts for you all to read. And of course, those texts mostly consist of male authors, white male authors to be exact. So while I can't get around not teaching those, there are no limits on how I have to teach them. So we will be discussing what's wrong with these texts."

I smiled at that. Maybe she wasn't that bad.

"So," Ms. Perkins continued walking over and taking a seat on top of her desk. "Who read the summer reading of Gatsby?"

I raised my hand along with a few other students.

"If we read this book," Ms. Perkins started, "You are expected to feel bad for a white millionaire during a time where so many were homeless. Did anyone feel bad for him?"

"Of course," Jack said. "It's a sad love story. A man dies protecting and trying to get the girl he wanted."

"So I guess that's how you read the book," Ms. Perkins nodded making a frown, "That is the easy way to look at it. A man who risked it all for a girl. Someone have a response."

I had my eyebrows raised eyeing Jack realizing how he was just another one of the jocks every high school had.

"Tilly," Ms. Perkins said.

I looked over my eyes shot.

"I know you are new," Ms. Perkins said, "But I can see you look like you disagree with Jack. What's your opinion."

I relaxed my body. I had read this book many times before this class.

"I see how you got to that conclusion if you were just simply skimming the pages," I said digging at Jack. "But the true point of the story is the end where we learn how much of a fraud Gatsby is. If anything, he was a loner and a criminal."

"But that's why we should feel bad for him," ack said. "the man had a lot going on. His dad was a farmer and he made something of himself."

"So we should feel bad for some dude who became a millionaire through illicit activities?" I started, "Why should we feel bad for this man who is just hiding. Someone who clearly understands what it is like to have nothing and to just sit on his money and complain about his life. If anything, the book shows how having money can just make you empty."