Been There, Done That

About 43% of high school students are depressed. Most of them have to face the devil itself, all on their own. Fighting a ghost you might say, because no one knows what it is you’re going through; to them, you’re story is invisible. Bullies cut your name, and paste a lie in its place. And people believe it.

I was depressed once. You can say, I’ve been there, done that. The cutting, the running… the endless nights spent drowning in your own tears. The reclusiveness… THAT’S what kills. You hide away from others, expecting them to find you, but they’re still looking. The ones that don’t stop until they find you are the ones that truly care; the ones that never put a fake story to your name; the ones that never lied to you. Yes, I went through a tough time. But it did seem as if I were alone. No one talked to me, they just laughed. My best friend had been taken to a mental hospital. If she knew about me, what I was going through, she’d go crazy! Yea, I give advice to people; REALLY good advice. But no one ever returned the favor.

I felt like my life was falling apart. Suffering through my depression, there was a boy that dared himself to ask me if I was transsexual! He thought I was born a male, but that I’d had surgery to be a female! I was like “Are you FORREAL?!”  I couldn’t believe he was serious. It just made shit worse.

I walk into my English class one day, and there was the teacher, standing tall and proud. She hated me with a passion. I had, and to this day still have, no idea why. I was quiet in her class, because she didn’t want me to talk. She allowed everyone else, except me. Her prejudice against me, made me sick every day! I had thoughts of SKIPPING her class, just to avoid her. I took the case to the Principal, and he did NOTHING!! Why? Because she was the “Best English Teacher of the District”, and was what made the ghetto, low-class school look good. So everything got worse, when she yelled at me, in front of the whole class, “WHY ARE YOU TALKING?!” I sat there in utter silence. The class got quiet. Yes everyone had been talking. I sat still, hoping I’d become invisible.  “You think your acts of innocence can deceive me?! No! Get the hell out of my class, NOW!” I was torn. And so was everyone else. There was no reason for her rants. She just hated me. I walked out in shame. Outside she grabbed the collar of my shirt and hissed in my face “If you think you can come to this school and make a fool of me, you’re wrong. The other idiot teachers may believe you, but I don’t. You are trouble, I know. You have a cold past, and I’m going to figure it out.”

For days, I wondered why she even said that. I held a record of exemplary conduct for my whole life! Each day that went by, my sadness, turned into hurt, and my hurt into anger. There was a lot of shit I wanted to say to her, and as a matter of fact I did.

The day I had finally had it with her, I made history. Our goal was to make a poster of the literary terms, and their definitions. I decided to get with my friend; she stopped me in my tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?” …I replied with sincerity “Getting with a partner”  

“I don’t think so” she said with a hiss. She told my friend to join a group of two; I was infuriated. I said, “So what am I gonna do now? Huh? Sit here by myself, when there’s ONE group of THREE people, and ONE INDIVIDUAL STANDING RIGHT HERE?! I don’t think so, I’m not going to disobey your rules, and I’m getting with a partner.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! I set you to be by yourself, because you do not have special privileges  in this class.”

“If by special privileges you mean RESPECT, I think I’ve earned way more than that. I’ve earned a damn citizenship award in this class! I’m tired of your shit! I’ve been depressed for months on end and you constantly keep making my life worse. No one judges me, and gets away with it. I’m fed up with your pointless rants. TIRED! I’m done. “ 

As I walk out of class, on my way to the counselor, she yells “Do you want an infraction with that?! You’re getting one missy! Don’t worry you’re on the top of my list for bad students!”

“Haven’t I always?”

My Algebra teacher made her way towards me, as everyone in the hallway had heard. She smiled at me, because she knew I’d done the right thing.

As for my depression,  things got better. WAY better.  Did I get a referral from her? No. Did she ever disrespect me again? No. Did I ever get with a partner? Yes. Did I pass her class? Of course.

See, some things are ok for a teacher to tell you. But telling you that you’re a bad student, when all you do in her class is work, then that’s not okay.

No, the teacher didn’t know my life was in ruins, but there’s no reason to be disrespectful either. That’s why you should never judge anyone, until you know their story. And even then, don’t spread lies about anyone, because you never know when it can happen to you.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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