Dear students:
Today, something bizarre happened while we were together. In the middle of our lesson, a big, ugly roach appeared and walked around our classroom. You started jumping, screaming, “A ROACH, A ROACH!”. So, although I really hate having to deal with these creatures, I embraced my courage, opened the cabinet, grabbed the spray and sprayed the beast.
You were finally at peace, but while I was trying to get back to work, I couldn’t take my eyes off the roach. It was lying there, close to my desk, on its back, moving its legs frantically, in a desperate tentative to flip itself, escape the mortal poison, save its life. I couldn’t stop thinking of that terrible pain that it was feeling in its body invaded by that killer poison, the pain that comes before the physical or emotional death, when you realize that there is nothing that you can do to save yourself, it is too late. I was that roach! I was lying down with it, shaking all over, overcome by a pain that was way stronger than me; I was dying thinking, “I didn’t want to kill you, to make you suffer; I know the pain of the body and the desperation of the soul, I didn’t mean to do to you what has been done to me.”
All I wanted to do was cry, while you, students, were waiting for my professional delivery, looking with indifference at me, at the roach. I wanted to scream at you, “Don’t you see it, don’t you feel the pain that is killing me? Can’t you have mercy?” But you never do, it is not your job. The roles that we play make me your enemy; I don’t deserve your mercy. I am the one that forces rules and work on you; I represent some of the authority you deeply hate, how could you have compassion for me? But you don’t see that, beyond all of that, I am flesh and blood like you. I have dreams, hopes, and desires; I love freedom and youth; the only difference between you and me is that my dreams have been destroyed, my hopes and desires taken; my freedom and youth are gone. People attack defenseless creatures because they know that they can’t fight back and protect themselves. He did what he did, in that way because he knew that I couldn’t have saved myself; I needed to be crashed. What right do we have to kill a roach only because it is ugly? What right did he have to treat me like garbage because I wasn’t pleasing him anymore and was asking him to stop behaving childishly?
He crashed me using my good heart, my naïveté, my love for him, and all of you don’t see it, don’t know it and don’t care for it. What is my personal tragedy for you? Nothing, only another way to talk bad behind my back. What do you know of the fact that he hurt me so badly that just the idea of a man close to me frightens me because I know he will hurt me again? What do you know of the fact that no matter how lonely I am, wishing that I could have somebody, this constant pain in my heart, those lies that wash my brain without giving me rest don’t allow me to even think that I can trust again. There is nothing that a man can say to me today that hasn’t been said by him before, and it was a lie. This pain reminds me continuously that I am broken.
What does it matter? All you want from me is perfection; you want the good teacher that performs for you the miracle of making you successful; the one that you can fight against so that you won’t have to change, because change requires the acceptance of responsibility, but responsibility means adulthood. You come every day and expect my delivery; I owe you that, but what do you give back? Nothing! And your indifference is scary! What do you care? What do you care that the roach is dead?
Your teacher.
Autore: SG
Dipinto: Ilenia Madaro