Growing Pains

Chapter 15 - You don't think school is a machine of oppression?

S K Y L A R

Mr. Wyatt walked into the classroom and realized almost right away the obvious. Almost all the seats were empty. All of them except mine and Luke's, a boy that every now and then seemed to die of boredom.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

Everyone else was somewhere else entirely.

"Having more fun than we are," Luke said, letting himself fall on top of his textbooks, which were from every other subject except English.

"They're on a strike," I admitted, not wanting to start a pointless back and forth between Luke and Mr. Wyatt. I knew that would happen. Luke didn't like to participate in class when the topic actually mattered but loved to waste time on bits I suspected only he thought were funny.

Mr. Wyatt smiled, "Well that's always good to hear."

I didn't think any other teacher would have been happy to find that most of his students were cutting class, except, of course, Mr. Wyatt.

"So you agree with this?" I asked. I couldn't help myself.

"With students fighting for what they believe in? Of course!" he said, leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"Even if what they believe in is football?" Luke frowned.

"Oh, I see. Is this because of the homecoming game?"

"Yes," Luke said. "Mr. Colton canceled it and people just decided to try and fly over the cuckoo's nest."

Mr. Wyatt laughed. I got the reference but didn't manage to even smile. We had read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest last year in class. Luke was implying the school was the nest, of course. I wasn't sure Mr. Wyatt was laughing because he agreed or because he liked his audacity. Most people didn't care much for it.

"So I'm guessing the both of you don't wanna try and fly over it too?" he asked eventually, as if this was a conversation between friends. I didn't know how to have those, so I avoided eye contact.

Luke seemed happy enough to engage with Mr. Wyatt though. He shrugged and said, "My parents clipped off my wings years ago, so I couldn't even if I wanted to."

I thought Luke was just trying to be funny, but Mr. Wyatt didn't. Instead, he said, "We're gonna have to circle back to that later, Luke."

"Oh, I was kidding," Luke said as fast as he could. It was good to know my people-reading skills were better than a licensed high school teacher's.

"Sure," he said, right before turning to look right at me. I felt my face turn red, the palms of my hands starting to sweat. I opened my mouth.

"I don't think I agree with the metaphor."

"You don't think school is a machine of oppression?" Luke asked me, confused that not everyone hated learning as much as him.

"No, of course I don't think that."

How were we even having this conversation right now?

"You don't think it wants to strip us out of our consciousness and force us into the rat race that is adult life?" Luke went on.

"What are you talking about?" I couldn't help myself.

"Look, I don't know," he admitted. "Sometimes I start sentences and I don't even know how I'm gonna finish them."

"You're lying," Mr. Wyatt said, "You know exactly what you're talking about."

"Hm, no, I don't," Luke said, sitting back on his chair, as if giving up. "You're giving me too much credit."