The Teacher

The Teacher: Part I Unchained, Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

MONDAY MORNING CAME MUCH TOO soon when a stubborn alarm clock rudely strafed my ears with its incessant dissonance. I'd been dreaming and didn't want the surreal, hauntingly-romantic dramatic fantasy to end, but a few seconds after getting up, and rushing to get ready for school, I forgot all about it.

All the kids who'd been on the weekend trip were barely conscious, walking the halls like zombies. Blaire fell asleep in History and Lydia let out an uncontrollably loud yawn right in the middle of Ms. Sutton's math lecture on quadratic equations, and had to apologize.

Holden wasn't at lunch, at least I didn't see him in his usual spot, alone by the window, but I was expecting to find him in English and possibly talk to him after class. I just wanted to get a feel for how he was handling everything that happened over the weekend. I was already seated when Holden walked in at the bell. He didn't look at me, while passing right by my seat.

My initial impression, he didn't seem at all upset, but was different, so different I had to look twice to be sure it was Holden and not some Na'vi Avatar type of enhanced Holden simulation. His clothes were neat, clean, matched, and for once he looked good in what he was wearing. Much more than his appearance, he carried himself with an air of confidence. The next dramatic change, he had his hand up to answer the first question Mr. Kostos asked.

"It's been suggested that Hamlet slipped into an episode of mental illness, that as a defense mechanism to cope with his father's death he was no longer in touch with reality. Anyone care to respond?"

Hands went up and Holden's was one of them.

"Yes, Holden, by all means I'd, we all would like to hear your opinion," a surprised Mr. Kostos added, recognizing that this was the first time all year Holden was planning to participate in a class discussion.

A long moment of stunned silence gripped the class, everyone waiting to see if Holden would actually say something.

"It would be too easy to simply put a label on what Hamlet was going through. The human mind is much more complicated and powerful than any of you can imagine. It is capable of doing whatever is necessary to survive...to assume Hamlet's behavior is symptomatic of an illness would be to miss the point entirely," Holden confidently offered to the class, completely detached from what anyone else might have thought about him or what he said.

"I think I see what you're trying to say. Class, would anyone else care to comment?" Mr. Kostos asked, hoping to use Holden's remarks and interest as a springboard to further participation.

I was shocked and impressed with what Holden said. I had to respond, and put my hand up while still thinking about what to say.

"Yes Fallon."

"Holden is saying that, for example, after Hamlet's father died his behavior created an alternate reality, one where he couldn't be judged or threatened for what he was doing or saying. Using strange words like he did, that made no sense to others, yet words he seemed to understand, further isolated him from the normal expectations of others. I'd have to agree with Holden. To say Hamlet was ill really isn't giving him credit for doing what he had to do in order to cope...to survive," I shared spontaneously, not sure just what I'd said, but with every intention to reinforce Holden's bold stand for health and wellness.

Little did I know, as of that fateful night in the woods Holden would no longer need anyone's help or sympathy, including mine.

"Well, Holden, you seem to have started something here! Anyone else?" Mr. Kostos asked, thrilled to be facilitating such a spirited discourse.

Several other students added comments, some challenging Holden's position. Mr. Kostos gave Holden the final comment.

"Holden, you started this debate and with only a minute or so before the bell, you may have the last word," Mr. Kostos offered.

Holden paused pensively before responding.

"The key to understanding human behavior is to recognize the power of the will to survive—the most primal of all instincts. We are all taught in Sunday school about how much better it is to give than to receive—turn the other cheek when attacked, and all that. Just know that when your very survival is at stake, there is a power you can draw on, feed on, which will nourish you, give you the strength you need to prevail against overwhelming odds."

Holden's words had everyone, including Mr. Kostos, stunned into silence. It wasn't like a sermon from a pulpit, but rather somehow he was speaking from a painful place of raw searing truth that we all recognized. Most of us being professed Christians, we didn't want to admit anything about the capacity we all had to turn to the dark side under certain circumstances—to feed the dark wolf, to use one of Pastor Ben's favorite spiritual metaphors.

"Holden, this is a public school so I'm not supposed to bring up a subject like this, but it sounds like you're referring to forming a relationship with God," Mr. Kostos suggested.

"No...definitely not god...," Holden declared emphatically, and without any regard for the possible eternal implications of a position that typically would scare the rest of us into accepting blindly whatever religious dogmatic orientation we were raised with to avoid the risk of hell fire and damnation.

With that, the bell ending class sounded, Holden, now carrying books, grabbed them and headed for the library, again passing me right by without so much as a polite nod of recognition. I had no idea what was going on, and couldn't help but be disappointed that he'd brush me off like that after how close we'd gotten over the weekend.

Curious, and more than a little upset, I followed him to the library, gave Holden time to find a table, and settle into an assignment before approaching him.

"Hey...after everything that happened over the weekend, I wasn't sure I'd see you today. So...you're limping a bit. How are you doing?" I asked, afraid to bring up the questions that were really on my mind.

"Oh, a little sore, but I'm good. I know what I have to do now. I'm sorry I put you all through that emotional mess this weekend. I'm over all that now. Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot of back work to make up if I'm going to get my grades to where I want them, but thanks for stopping by."

"No problem, I've got some history to do, so I'll get back to it."

NORMALLY I WOULD HAVE BEEN devastated, but it was like the Holden I was trying desperately to help vanished, and this other Holden took his place. I didn't know what to think anymore.

I could see him from my table across the library. Trying in vain to finish a math assignment, I kept breaking my concentration to look up at him.

The compulsion I'd been feeling, to be with him, to at least be an important part of his life, was, if anything, growing in intensity.