Despite the way my teacher treated me so harshly and at times with no mercy, I soon discovered I wasn’t the only one on the receiving hand of his sometimes unfair treatment.
We had a supply teacher once in a whole year. Because of how our teacher was always so harsh and treated us like soldiers instead of pupils, we felt so liberated and the poor supply was the poor prey against us the predators. We were so excited that we all got carried away. Our excitement was bursting like a champagne that just popped. The poor teacher was at her wrist hand with us and couldn’t control us. Our freedom was short lived. Our teacher came back unexpectedly. He was absolutely fuming. We were gob smacked. He didn’t shout, he didn’t tell us anything. His angry look could kill us instantly. He just said, we ought to all write an apology letter to the supply teacher and that was all he said. We did so and swiftly. For the rest of the day, after the supply accepted our apology letter, we kept a close eye at the door just in case he would return back.
As Christmas loomed, I was emotionally washed up. My results were just not improving, the teacher kept on breathing down my neck about my results. The only great news I received was that one of the bullies was moving to South America for good. Finally, good riddance. Of course, being one of the teacher’s favourite pupil, he planned a mini party for him. We all said our goodbyes. I was trying to bury the hatchet, as I was approaching to say goodbye in all good faith, he barely looked at me. In fact, he even barely shook my hand. Despite one less bully to deal with, I was still causing mischief.
I was back to my rebellious way and returned into fighting again. One of my sister’s mate and I, had a disagreement. Out of nowhere, I started to fist fight her. She was obviously not strong enough to fight me back and started screaming. I pulled her hair even harder, by the time I was punching and kicking her, I felt a teacher grabbing me from my back. To my horror, it had to be my teacher. As the girl was still crying, I was in detention in class and not allowed to play with my classmates for a while. I eventually apologized to her and we became friends. After this incident, it was clear that I was on my teacher’s bad books for good. There was no reversing from there.
As we made our way home for lunch one day after school, we saw 2 kids (one in my year group) I could sense they were up to no good. How? Well, the whispering was a give away. What happened next was so shocking. As we approached both boys, they threw something at us. Before we could even react, the 2 cowards ran away. Our eyes were hurting so much we could hardly open them. Something stung our eyes. Me and my sister were crying, I couldn’t even protect my sister but I could sense her pain as well. We were screaming for someone in fact for anyone to help us. Worse still, our mum was not at home either. I thought I was going blind. After a short moment, we could open our eyes briefly, but it was still painful. A woman who was parking her car saw us in distress and came to our aid. She asked if our mum was at home, we said no. So without any hesitation, she took us to the hospital. While driving, she asked us what happened and we explained what happened.
While we were in hospital we were treated and returned home. Without realizing, our whole lunch break vanished. Despite the traumatic experience, I was fearing my teacher’s wrath even more. We had no time to eat anything. So we rushed back to school. My sister was first. Her teacher was so welcoming and after listening to my sister’s explanation to her lateness, she warmly welcomed her in the class with full understanding. I was hoping for the same with my teacher. I was wrong from the start. Standing at the door with a look that could kill, I reluctantly approach my class. He still was staring at me in an angry manner. I explained my story and exaggerated details including sobs to gain some sympathy. Well it didn’t work. When I finish my story, the only source of comfort I received from that man was to see the headteacher and the teacher of the 2 responsible for what happened to us.
I went to denounce the 2 who caused us harm. When I went to the class, the boys responsible attempted to hide. It was futile. They faced exclusion. When we finished school, we told my mum what happened. She went ballistic. She went on a rampage. We first thanked the good Samaritan who came to our aid. Then, my mum went to the boys’ house and had a go at them. They were shaking like leaves.
I have never ever seen her this way before.
It was clear we needed a distraction and fast. My mum purchased tickets to Portugal. Finally, something to look forward to. In the meantime, I carried on my many activities such as scouts, Gens, music lessons, piano lessons and visiting my beloved godparents. That year, one of my best ever French film came out ‘Les Visiteurs’. I just loved that film. It is about a knight and his servant from the 12 or 13th century, who after a sorcerer mixed up a potion to have the knight and servant go back in time, actually they are thrown in the 20th century with so many comedic scenes. I identify myself with them as they are so out of place in the 20th century and I felt this way every day in Switzerland especially in that class! The film provided a much needed distraction, I can’t recount how many times I have watched the film.
Finally, the moment arrived to return to my beloved Portugal. My home. My mum prepared us a surprise, well the best ever surprise I would never forget as long as I lived.