Dan’s Blog

Posted May 2 2011, 7:00 am in bullying, characterization, Dan's Blog, fiction, teens

For a place filled with so many smart people, school is like, ridiculously dumb.

You think?

I roll my eyes, but ignore Kenny’s attempt at wit. Schools are run by all these people with advanced degrees, smart people, people who were – a long time ago – in school and must know, couldn’t possibly have forgotten – how dangerous the place is.

Why hasn’t anyone done a study on school?

Who says they haven’t?

Heh. Maybe they have. Maybe if I had an advanced degree, I’d know this but it seems logical that if any studies had been done, school wouldn’t be the way it is now.

Shit, man, you only have like, ten months left. You can last that long, can’t you?

Ten more months. Jesus. I drag a hand through my hair. I don’t think I can do it. School is a battlefield. The Hill in a never-ending game of King of. It’s not about who’s smarter, who’s better looking, who’s more athletic, who’s richer. Too many people think if they wear the right clothes, listen to the right music, hang out with the right people, they can change perception but does anybody realize those are all just symptoms? Does anyone try to cut away all those layers to get to the core of the problem? No.

Like you know what the core of the problem is.

Yeah. I do. It’s about power, Kenny. Everybody wants it and nobody has it, not really. It’s like – like some kind of commodity on the open market. Bought, sold, stolen, traded. Teachers take it from students,  kids take it from each other. Heh. I think the only reason people have kids is just so they can take back that little bit of power everyone else takes from them. And the kids… what do they get? Where does their power come from?

Just say it.

I bet you think their power is sucked out of them, blood for mosquitoes. The truth is they give it away! Kids give away their power every fucking day.

Bull shit.

I’m serious, Kenny. Look at all the posers. You got the football players and other jocks sacrificing their body parts for what? To win a game because winning gives them back the power they give up to make a dad proud, or some cheerleader smile. Then, you’ve got the pretty girls, the ones that move in little posses. They’re like litters of puppies, look alike, move alike, sound alike. Why do they do this, Kenny?

No idea.

They think it’s what guys like and if they can snag a guy, they’ve got some power.

And how do you know all this, O Wise Powerful One?

And just like that, my outrage evaporates and the embarrassment takes over.

Aw, what’s wrong? Lost your voice?

I press hands to my ears – futile and stupid. Even without ears, I would always hear Kenny.

Come on, Professor. How do you know so much about the power struggles of the typical teen? School me.

Come on, Kenny. You were there! You know.

Oh, yeah. I know. You had that kind of power. You wielded it like a sword.

I did. Shame explodes, I feel myself shrivel and against my will, I remember. He’d caught me staring. That day, in the locker room, Liam Murphy caught me staring at his groin. Our eyes met and there, right there, was the power, just sitting there waiting for someone to grab it. He’d caught me staring and could have ruined me with one word except I moved first.

I laughed. I pointed. I snapped a picture. I drew everyone’s attention to the Scooby-Doo underpants he had on. I snatched the power.

Slow clapping echoes around my head. Good for you. You took your power back. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to have more.

Shut up, Kenny. Just shut the fuck up.

What? I’m only telling you what I know. You took all the power and you didn’t even know it, did you?

No. Jesus, no. I never knew I had the power over his life.

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