Reckless. [TMNT 2012]

10. Mazes & Students; Evelyn

It's not that Casey Jones is a bad student. It's the fact that he has absolutely no ambition to succeed in his education. If I ask him a set of ten questions, he gets five right and says "At least I passed." I am beginning to wonder if he makes fifty percent on all the tests he takes, which is not exactly passing. No wonder his anatomy teacher hired me.

  I can't even begin to understand his motives. I love learning. Every new concept is like an open door to more knowledge. It provides the listener with a new prospective of the world. Even the feel of the wind is different when you understand how it forms.

  I don't want to blame him, but it is partially his fault. He won't meet me halfway. Instead, I am going the full mile to try and drill some anatomy definitions into him. If he was willing, it wouldn't be so challenging to train him. But of course, I will never tell him that. Being mature by not blaming the student is one of the rules of being a tutor.

  Surprisingly, our second session is almost pleasant compared to the first. Casey genuinely seems to be trying to learn. Though he's only right a quarter of the time, at least he is attempting the questions instead of just quitting. He must have had a change of heart.

  Maybe he isn't a lost hope after all.

  Despite his renewed enthusiasm for anatomy, the next two weeks of tutoring are close to excruciating. It's like teaching a toddler to paint an exact replica of the Mona Lisa portrait. It is slow, tedious, and discouraging; even for me.  It is safe to claim that he is the most boundary-testing student I've ever had.

  After trying so hard for so long, I notice that Casey begins to slack a little. His efforts become sloppy and he is irritable all the time. Maybe he is stressed over the prospect of the holidays. Or maybe it has something to do with my teaching skills.

  On the third Monday of November, Casey is worse than ever.  I have to ask him a question twice before he even tries to answer, and it always ends up being wrong.  I've always been told that I'm good at hiding my emotions, but this is ridiculous.  I can't stifle a rise of anger as Casey gets the definition of 'homeostasis' wrong; a word that we have been over several times before.

  "Isn't it, like, some kind of soup?" Casey responds as his distracted gaze wanders the chilly scenery.

  I release an inaudible sigh.  "We're still talking about anatomy," I remind him with virtually no emotion.  Normally, my students have picked up on the basics by now.  I don't understand why Casey can't accomplish the same.

  "Oh, right," Casey mumbles as he stares at a nearby building.  Then he changes tones and turns his deep brown eyes on me.  "Why do you do this?" he asks suddenly.  "This whole teaching thing has gotta be boring.  Don't you have, like, friends or something you'd rather hang out with?"

  I stop myself from wrinkling my nose in disgust.  I hate it when students ask me about my personal life.  They hire me to teach them the science of the body, not the science of social skills.

  Deep down, I know the river runs further than that.  His single question managed to point out the one thing I've never truly had: friends.  For as long as I can remember, I've never experienced anything more than acquaintanceships.  No one has ever been able to understand my love for learning.  They don't get why I would rather spend my Friday nights studying instead of attending a party. It's impossible for them to comprehend my efforts to throw myself into my textbooks and just forget about everything around me.  No one understands me.

  Of course, I'm not bitter.  The last thing I am worried about is making friends.  Relationships only tie up my time and take me away from what I really enjoy doing.  So what's the point?

  After a long pause, I finally decide to respond to my curious student.  "You are here to learn about anatomy, not me." I flash him a look that warns him not to argue, but he persists.

  "I don't get you," he snorts and with a shake of his head.  "If something involves studying, you're there in a split second.  But if it has to do with anything else, like having a normal conversation, your attention is gone as fast as a ghost."

  I could say the same about your academic skills, I do not dare claim out loud.  Casey may not be the most pleasant teenager to be around, but he's still my responsibility.

  Casey carries on with his questions.  "Got a best friend? Some sweetheart that's waiting on you? Because I bet they'd much rather have you hangin' around them than be tutoring me.  It's not like any of this stuff matters, anyway.  It ain't gonna help me become a professional hockey player."

  "Knowledge is power," I respond simply.

  "Knowledge is boring," Casey corrects me as he shifts around on the bench.  The wood creaks underneath his impatience.  "Why can't school teach something that people wanna know?  Like how to cheat in video games, or win street races?"

  "That's the intelligence that you think will help you in life?" I don't mean to be smart, but it is too late to take it back once it's out.  Shame claws at my heart as a provoked expression floods Casey's face.

  "So, Goldilocks does know how to be sarcastic." Casey smirks.  "I thought you only knew how to talk like a textbook."

  "This planet would be a better place if there wasn't any room for petty speech ironies," I state as I cross my arms and lean back.

  Casey yawns dramatically and pats his hand on his mouth.  "There you go again, talking like some kind of alien!  Don't you ever just let loose and have fun?" he presses with a single eyebrow raised.

  I have had enough.  If Casey wants to be social, then he can go find someone else to speak with.  But when he is around me, the only thing we should be discussing are the elements of his anatomy book.

  "Do you have any priorities in life?" I finally say, my voice edged with anger for the first time in years.  It's been so long since I've actually felt a genuine emotion.

  "Yeah," Casey shrugs.  "Get a C so I can pass this class and move on."

  I am horrified.  "That's it?  You don't even want to attempt achieving an A?"

  It's Casey's turn to look disturbed.  "No! I don't wanna spend all my free time studying just to get a useless high grade.  I'll still pass even if I don't get an A, so there's no point," he responds certainly.

  I narrow my eyes.  "You should try to accomplish an A.  Don't you want to make your parents proud?" I insist, still unable to register how careless he is.  Who doesn't want to make high grades?

  Surprisingly, Casey's eyes drop to the ground. He suddenly looked very depressed, as if the thought of his parents gives him physical pain. "My parents aren't exactly around anymore," he murmurs.

  "What?"

  "My parents are gone," Casey explains, avoiding my gaze for the first time.  "I haven't seen my mom since I was little, and my dad...  He's dead."

  His elaboration is full of agony that I can see him shaking.  I've never been good at consoling others, so the sight of him makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.

  "I'm sorry," I apologize, quickly realizing how bland it sounds.  "I didn't mean to upset you," I add, but it isn't any sincerer.

  Casey disregards my lack of emotion.  "It's not your fault. You didn't know," he says as he turns his head away from me.

  He isn't telling me something, but I'm not in a position to be nosy about it.  Besides, I don't particularly care.  He brought this uncomfortableness on himself.  If he would just focus on this moment, then maybe he wouldn't get asked questions like that.

  Still, it was a bit harsh to snap at him so soon.  I've never been so quick to pounce on one of my students like that.  Something about him just brushes me the wrong way.

  As Casey begins to flip through his anatomy book for the first time, however, I know one thing:

  At least my severity got him to shut up.