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| Photo courtesy of oldohioschools.com |
A Story From the Life of Art G.
Ghostwritten by Brian C.
The Transfer
It seemed like most of the kids back then focused on sports. Others in their factory job or maybe their job on the farm. To me, none of that meant anything. Growing up on a farm in a small country town was not easy, as anyone would expect. No one ever said that living on a farm in a school with around 60 other students, while working in a glass factory was simple. And it sure wasn’t. Many thought of school as an opportunity to learn basics so they cruise through life the easy way. I, on the other hand, approached school in a way that was unheard of. School was my strength. School was my home, where I belonged. But living that way had its ups and downs.
The fierce wind was blowing across my face as the sound of metal and rubber clashing against the bumpy ground grew louder and louder. I hopped onto the old rusty school bus that would take me to my destiny. The bus that would carry me to where I belonged. As I sat down in my usual seat, I noticed the other students whispering and laughing while gleaming over towards me. This never bothered me too much. They all believed that I was some sort of “smart guy” and didn’t belong, but that didn’t matter to me. I dropped my school supplies down next to me, staring out into the morning sunset about to endure another 45 minute drive. As the ride continued, my eyelids suddenly became heavy.
“All off now,” instructed the bus driver, waking me up instantly. The sounds of children running down the aisle, shifted the bus left then right and eventually I hopped off to the familiar sight of Amity High School. A small school by some means, but what more would you expect growing up near almost nothing. It took around eight or nine buses just to get us all in this school of sixty. I moved down the pathway towards the three concrete steps that eventually led to large white doors. The sound of school children from all different directions rung in my ears as I swung open the main doors, into the school itself. As I sat down on the dusty, cracked floor, the school bell rang to signal that it was time for class to begin. All the kids rushed back and forth in different directions to their first class. I walked slowly down the hall and opened the door into my English room.
“Why hello there Art,” said a man standing in the front of the room. I noticed that the man was a tall and skinny, and had to be around in his 80’s. I had known this man before. He was not our official teacher, but a sub that we had quite often.
I walked towards my seat, near the front of the room.
“Hello, good day to you sir,” I said and sat down. As I opened up my bag, the substitute began to start class by roll call, then began the lesson. Our class, filled with not only 9th graders, but other grades as well, had recently read a book.
As he insisted that we all get out the book he looked directly at me and said, “Art would you like to come to the front of the class and begin a book talk?”
Although he phrased this as a question, I knew that he was telling me to do so. As I pulled myself out of my desk, I realized exactly what our substitute was doing. Calling on me was not just a coincidence. He clearly was testing me. This man had taught our class more than enough times to understand that I had a special talent. That I was smarter than anyone else in the classroom and needed to get out of this tiny school in the middle of nowhere. I walked up into the front of the room, turned around and began the book talk. While doing so, the other kids were laughing and I could tell it was about me. They had picked on me before about being some kind of a nerd and the anger built up through me day after day.
The bell sounded to end class and our substitute, looking down at his paper suddenly glanced up at the sound of the bell and signaled me over towards him.
“I’m gonna get you transferred to Mount Vernon High School, just meet me after school,” the man
He had already tried this back around a year ago, but they didn’t let me in. The memories of sitting down with my parents and reading my report card kicked in. This same teacher would write in my report cards that I needed to get transferred, but my parents never did much about it.
“Are you sure that you would like to do that, we already tried once but they turned me down?”
“Can’t hurt to try. Plus you need out of here I’ve seen your work, you’re smart.”
I thanked the teacher and ran out of the classroom. Joy was flying through me. I was tired of this old school. No one respected a smart kid they just thought of them as an outsider. But I was no outsider.
The school day continued and nothing else seemed to happen. Math and history were slow and the day finally came to an end. As I walked through the hallways, passing through students searching for the teacher, I was stopped.
“Hey look it's the nerd from English class,” announced one of the kids. Suddenly I cranked my head left, then right to notice that there were many kids surrounding me. The kids were clearly older than me. They had bullied me before, but I could tell this was gonna be different. The memories of them calling me names surged through my body like an electrical shock, and suddenly, I went after one of the kids. The memories of watching some guy perform a choke hold became glued in my head, and I grabbed the older boy around the neck. Anger was flowing through my body from all the frustration they brought me. I needed out of this school and I needed out now. Many other students started to approach me, as I had my arm around the kid. His face was turning red like a ripe tomato as I had him on the cold ground.
“Let go of him!” screamed one of the kids, and suddenly I was pulled off and thrown to the floor. The kid layed there and then arose from the ground. The belief of getting pummeled shot through my head, but the other kids walked off and left me alone, sitting on the floor by myself. I had earned their respect and they knew no longer to mess with me.
I picked myself up from the cold, dusty floor and began searching room to room until I finally found the substitute that wanted to take me to Mount Vernon High School.
“Are you ready to go Art?” he asked.
“More than ready,” I said eager to leave.
We both hopped onto the bus and after a short drive, arrived at Mount Vernon High School. We then stepped onto the campus then walked into the school. This school was much larger than Amity and had far more people. We walked through the school to where both of us then stepped into the superintendent's office. He signaled us to both sit down and we did so.
“I would like to make a request to have Art Graves transferred to Mount Vernon High School,” requested the teacher.
This was just the beginning of much debate. The two of them went back and forth, talking about my strengths and weaknesses.
After much talk between the two, the superintendent finally looked over to me and said, “Congratulations Art Graves, you have now been transferred to Mount Vernon High School.”
Hearing this put a lot of relief on me. I now had the opportunity to learn and to show off my skills of knowledge to others without being made fun of.
This moment changed my life forever. I learned to follow my dreams and never give up. Without it, I would be stuck with people that make fun of me daily for my skills and talent. Who knew that a 80 year old substitute teacher could impact my life the way that this one did. His decision of moving me to Mount Vernon changed my life forever and I am thankful for him.
