Memoirs of an Outstanding* Teen

Chapter 31: No I Don't Like It

Back at school, I was still studying harder for Afrikaans than any of my other subject. After the first term, I only managed to get a C in the class, and in the third term, I pushed it up to a B.

Remember the Afrikaans teacher that had concluded I would fail without even giving me a chance? I wish I could say I was happy to be able to silently say, "In your face!" to her with the marks I got. But every time I went up to her class, her face read: guilt. Every time I got a mildly decent grade on a paper or a test, she would make sure to point it out several times to the whole class, "Nelu het uitstekende punte gekry! Sien, sy's 'n baie slim meisiekind." (Nelu, got outstanding marks! See, she's a very smart girl.) Every time I took notes as she spoke, she would point it out too, telling everyone, "Jy kan wat ek sȇ neerskryf. Ek sien Nelu skryf alreeds. Julle ander moet seker die sele doen." (You can write down what I say. I see Nelu is writing already. You, others should probably do the same.)

No, I didn't like any part of that. I never like to be the cause of anyone's negative feelings, even if they were the ones in the wrong. I wished I could just talk to her, and tell her it's okay, that I had forgiven her, and that she had made a mistake, but none of us is innocent. I wished I could tell her that I knew she was only a product of her upbringing and if she was raised to be biased against black people, who could blame her? I even wished that I hadn't joined her class so she wouldn't have ever made that mistake. I hated seeing a woman of such high regard, a fantastic teacher bringing in praise upon praise in the national exams, get utterly destroyed by guilt. All because of me? No, I don't take pleasure in the suffering of others. I hated what I did to her.

And I wish I could say she accepted facts as time went by, that she got better in Grade 11 and 12. But things went in the opposite direction.