Bane of every teacher’s existence, he casually be chillin’ in the back and talks and talks.
He’s the species we call the ‘Chatterbox’…
“Uh…I think you’re in the wrong class.”
His name was Jacob, and all these years later I don’t need my 8th grade yearbook to remind me of that. Nope, I’ll never forget the name of the jack-ass1I desperately wanted to phrase this as “that jack-ass’ name”, but I couldn’t find a definitive answer on what the possessive form of ‘jackass’ is…so please, if you know the answer, share it in the comments below. who oh-so-condescendingly told me, the new kid, that I didn’t belong in the ‘gifted’ students’ science class (which for some reason, Oceanview Jr. High called ‘Research & Development‘).
Of course, I didn’t know his name was Jacob at the time, so this made it harder to throw some condescension back at that buffoon. Instead of replying with something like, “Well, Jacob, I actually do belong in this class, you cocky little ----- face…”, the humbler side of my personality responded with:
*checks class schedule*
“Uh, this is R&D, right? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m in the right classroom…”
“Pfft! Yeah right–this is the smart kids’ class, Dummy. You better check that schedule again,” Jacob tut-tutted, standing his ground.
“Dude, I’m in the right place, so just buzz off,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Whatever, Dummy,” Jacob muttered as he turned back around in his seat to face forward.
I mused to myself that Jacob must be pretty ----- smart to have the Chutzpah2P.S. Happy Hanukah to all my Hebrew friends! to tell a random stranger that he looks to stupid to be in his hallowed classroom. I was definitely curious to see if he actually had the brains to back up those words…
“Hold my root beer”…is essentially what I told Jackass Jacob, as it would turn out.
When it comes to asses, I can hold my own, at least in the sub-category of Smartasses. And it didn’t take too long to claim my rightful spot on that throne.
So, as I’ve implied above, I started 8th grade a week or so after classes had already begun. One consequence of this was that I didn’t get a proper introduction to the teachers in my various classes. You know, like when they got “Mrs. McDougal” (for example) written in big letters on the chalk board and that, being the very first thing you see, is indelibly burned into your memory and seared into your retinas.
And had I been there on first day of R&D, I would have none, without a shadow of a doubt, that my two esteemed science teachers were Mr. Brent Susman (may that mustache R.I.P.) & Mr. Don Sogioka.
I mean, I kinda knew their names. But apparently I didn’t really know their names. Case in point: a scene from my second or third week of school.
“Hey, would you stop talking in the back there?” Mr. Sogioka seemed slightly perturbed by my incessant chatting with my fellow classmates throughout his lessons.
“Oh, ok, sure. My bad…” I responded in a manner befit of any 13 year old.
Ol’ Donnie Boy was non-plussed by my attitude.
“Seriously, though, all you’ve ever done since you’ve joined our class is sit in the back and distract all the other students. I bet you don’t even know what my name is.”
“What? Of course, I know your name, it’s Mr. Sokiyoki!” I indignantly declared.
It was in this moment that I learned that I did not, in fact, know what his name was.
The rest of the class, thinking I was clowning him by pronouncing his name “Soki-Yoki”–perhaps the Japanese equivalent of calling your teacher of Chinese descent “Mr. Ching-Chong-Chang”–all burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
“IT’S SOGIOKA!” he asserted, clearly flush with anger at what he perceived was being made of fun of to his face.
“Dammmn, my bad…”
“Oh my God, you never shut up, do you?”
Mr Sokioga. Again.
By now we were a good 3 months or so into the school year, and 3 things had become clear:
- I was, much to Mr. Sokioga’s chagrin, one of the brighter minds amongst all of the 40-50 students in R&D (#HumbleBrag).
- Jacob, on the other hand, was all talk and no walk. That guy was a complete idiot.
- I was a non-stop chatter box.
Now, to be truthful, I had never meant to be a supreme smartass back when I accidentally called my esteemed co-teacher ‘Mr. Soki-yoki’, but this had apparently set the tone for our relationship for the entire year. And, as you can imagine, Science Facts #1 and #3 annoyed the living hell out of Ol’ Sokioga.
Science Fact #2 is irrelevant to the rest of the story; I figured I’d give you, Dear Reader, a little closure since I had brought Jacob in the first place.
Anyways…Mr. Sokioga wasn’t done chewing me out for incessant talking in his class.
“You know what?” he said with a defiant look in his eyes. “I bet you can’t go an entire class without talking. You are simply incapable of keeping that pi3#STEMNerdReference hole of yours shut.”
Aww, snap.
Gauntlet: thrown down.
“You’re on, Don!” I just couldn’t help myself. Sometimes my wit beats my brain to my mouth, and sh*t like that just slips on out.
“Please, don’t ever call me Don…”
Fast-forward to a day or so later, and I was determined af to prove the haters wrong: I can be quiet. I swear I can.
Now, it wasn’t easy by any means, but I actually pulled it off. I apologize for adding a narrative pizzazz to this part via some imaginative dialogue, but what can I say? There was nothing to be said for me saying nothing for a solid 50 minutes.
Except for the last 2 minutes of class…
“I did it. I didn’t say a single word all class long,” I stated with the confidence of a true champion.
Mr. Sokioga was not impressed.
“Congratulations, kid” dripping with sarcasm was all I got in return.
Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. In retrospect, we were at a stalemate, and I should have just left it at that. Where exactly did I think, “ha ha I proved you wrong and didn’t annoy you for one whole class” was going to get me?
A very good question indeed…
The point of the story is that sometimes ya gotta respect the power imbalance between teacher and student. At the end of the proverbial day, the teacher has, um, let’s call them ‘tools’, at his or her disposal to deal with particularly pesky proteges. “Whatever is he talking about?” you may be wondering right now. Well, I’ll tell you what I’m talking about…next week, and maybe the week after that. Sorry, but you’ll have to stay tuned to hear about the various forms of Donald’s Revenge hath taken.
And while ultimately those tales will be keeping in line with the spirit of The Holiday (Festivus, that is), and fall squarely in my ‘Airing of the Grievances’ category, I can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe,Mr. Sokioga might have one or two grievances to air with me…
Content created on: 1/2 December 2023 (Fri/Sat)
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