I walked into my first hour classroom. I have an independent study, and lately I have been studying the �Three Musketeers� script. It�s a lot of fun reading through. I�ve most definitely been taking my time, and writing blocking and staging and even set piece notes in the margins. I hope �Assistant Director� gives me at least a little power... �cause this play could look really professional. I think blocking is the most important, and what will give it a �finishing touch� is lighting and sound effects. But this wasn�t the only thing going through my head...there was quite a bit of man lovin� going on in the hall. I figured someone went through a breakup or something...there was a guy crying hardcore. I felt awful having to walk away from it, and not stopping to ask why. I would have asked if I could help, of course.
But I walked into my first hour and sat down. The first thing I couldn�t help but notice was how quiet the class was. I mean, the last time we watched a movie in that class, it was �Simon Birch,� and that really shut up the first hour...but the movie for this day hadn�t even started. The first thing Mrs. Nolen said was that we �wouldn�t talk about it,� and then she put on the movie. I don�t even think the class has started reading �The Odyssey,� but the Armand Assante film played anyways. But what �wouldn�t we talk about?�
I looked around the class, a freshman English class, and even in the dark, I could see moisture in their eyes. One guy had red all over his eyes.
Ever since this one week when I took advantage of being in an Independent Study class, I�ve been sleeping in. I used to think that the extra ten minutes made all the difference, but now it�s just like before, and I still hate getting up for school today.
I continued to look over my �Three Musketeers� script...and staying on the same page for the entire hour, thinking about how Mrs. Nolen was acting. She was so depressed. And then two girls came into the classroom. One was Janelle, and she was crying with tissues in hand. The other was right behind her, and there for support. Okay...what happened this morning?
I came in late...no...I woke up late. My mom was unusually nice to me in the car on the way to school. There couldn�t have been anything important enough...my mom would have known and told me. I immediately thought about P.J. P.J. was a kid that was in the seventh grade when I was in eighth grade. I had seen him riding his bike in town with many baseball bats in his arms when he went home to put a gun to his head. That was a crazy day of school. I was in denial for days after that.
Why was I thinking about that now? I came in late to school. I remembered seeing a table next to the auditorium where people were writing things down. I figured it was another thing where people were buying tetanus shots or something...I had done that before. Then I walked down the hall. Nobody was in the halls...but that�s not unusual since I�m always this late.
In the classroom, watching stupid Armand Assante killing a bunch of people, I couldn�t help but think about how inappropriate it was. It was way too violent and loud. I wanted it turned off. And a bunch of other kids weren�t even watching. They were just staring off into random space. Then I noticed a box of tissues in the front of the room.
Okay, I was walking to the classroom, past the counselor�s office. The counselor�s were watching me. I saw it out of the corner of my eye, but I didn�t think anything of it. They were staring at me.
Oh God...why didn�t my mom say anything to me? She couldn�t have known anything. She couldn�t have.
Someone died...I was sure of it. Sitting in that room, I looked at the clock. I had only been there for three minutes. The time went so slow. Mrs. Nolen didn�t take her eyes off the TV. She didn�t want to look at the other students. And neither did I, but I couldn�t help myself. Now, I was thinking about who it could have been. Okay, I�m not friends with the friends of these freshman...it couldn�t be one of my friends. It struggled in my seat. I couldn�t sit still. I became really nervous and my palms got really sweaty.
I thought about my friends. Why wouldn�t my mom say anything? She wouldn�t enforce my having to go to school if she knew anything. She didn�t know anything. But how couldn�t she? She knew about P.J. the day after he killed himself.
I couldn�t calm myself. I wanted the hour to be over with. I wanted to take Mrs. Nolen out in the hall and ask her questions...but I didn�t want to take her away from the class. I didn�t want to move. I didn�t want to know if it�s something I wouldn�t want to know.
Please, hour get over with! The next forty minutes couldn�t pass quickly enough. As empty as the room felt...I found out that there was only one person missing from my first hour. And this is my first hour and nobody else�s, so I guess that could explain a strong feeling from everybody else. His name was Chris.
He sat near the front of the room. And Mrs. Nolen told me this...and I was relieved. I thanked God that it wasn�t someone I knew...which I later felt guilty for...but I shouldn�t. I let go of my breath, and wanted to cry in happiness. And then cry in sadness because...I had seen how it affected the class. They were out of the room, now. And then I became angry on my way out...into the hallway.
The feeling outside of that room...was much worse. In a hallway full of people, there wasn�t a sound. The first person I thought about was Nick. Nick is Chris� older brother and he�s in my drama class. I didn�t expect to see him today, but Nick�s girlfriend, Sara, who is in my class, was talked about a lot. She was crying very hard.
~~
This is the announcement that I missed, read to all classrooms:
Last evening, Chris [Last name deleted], a 9th grade student at Williamston High School, died as a result of an all terrain vehicle accident. This is an incredibly difficult thing to accept and understand. As we go throughout the day, the reality of losing a friend and classmate will affect each of us in different ways.
We have both of our counselors, [The counselor who I noticed looking at me] and [The counselor I�ve known since my last year at middle school] along with Ms. [Last name deleted] available in various locations. Additionally, our crisis trained PALS will be assisting by 8:00 AM.
If you would like to meet with these counselors or have them assist in grieving or connecting you with friends, let your classroom teacher know and come down to student services and we�ll take care of you.
As more information is received regarding funeral arrangements, we will find appropriate ways to make that available to students and faculty.
As always, there in strength in strong relationships. We�ll draw from that strength today.
~~
Next hour, I was so happy to see Justin and then Chelsey, and I walked right past them to see Doug and McB. Then Erin walked in. I had been so excited to edit the �Butterknife� skit, an idea from Justin and filmed last weekend. It was my job to edit it, and I was more than happy to. But...since it was to spoof the movie, �Saw,� it just felt so inappropriate. Too intense, I�d say. But no...the day was an awful day. So many people would hug and cry in between classes. The feeling was so morbid, you couldn�t help it. And you wouldn�t dare look up when you were in the hallways. I kept my eyes to the ground. I just couldn�t look up. But second hour was so much better. I wasn�t in the company of any freshman, and the news didn�t affect us as much. And I was thanking God for that all day. Justin and I talked about my finding out. First hour was the most painful thing I had been through...or one of the scariest times of my life.
I hate that this entry is about me...but when you can�t talk about the person this entry is really about, I hope that readers would be looking for another side to the story. Second hour was actually filled with laughter. Well, at least smiles. Chelsey was in a good mood, but felt like she wasn�t allowed to be. Erin was brought down and already sick of the morose feeling of the hallways. But it wasn�t our pain that we were really thinking about. Justin said that he felt he might shed a tear when he would see Nick, Chris� brother. Oh...yeah. There�s gonna be another school day like this when Nick comes back.
I asked how people knew about it. Justin said that he asked Janelle, who is in my first hour. He saw her crying, and asked her about it. She replied �Chris died.� And then she said his last name. Suddenly the whole table talked about my death (since my name is Chris, too). Justin said he�d be pissed off if I died. Erin just told me not to die. And Dan said �Don�t leave us,� or something.
And that�s all I�ll say about that hour. Nothing else happened. But when it was over with, I was very very very very happy to see Emily...since she was a freshman and might have been the person I thought about the most when asking myself �Why are these freshman crying?�
Third hour was Psychology. Almost a painful hour when the teacher asked us once again to vent. Some people talked about not liking Chris, but how everyone felt bad for his family. And I couldn�t help but think about everyone, including what all my friends had said about me that last hour. I thought about the pain and fear I went through first hour...and I couldn�t help myself. I began to cry. I thought about how lucky I was to have so many close friends. I couldn�t think of any that I wouldn�t really cry for.
Now that I was in a classroom where many different people (and not just the seniors from second hour) could talk about it. I found out the whole story. Chris was riding a quad-bike and going backwards at high speed. Without a helmet. Then he somehow flipped his bike and was pronounced dead on the spot. And Nick didn�t take it very well. There were some neighbor kids who even watched it happen. They have to live their lives after actually seeing somebody die. It�s so awful to think about how fast a life can be taken.
The only thing that ruined my mood was one guy named Kyle, a senior, who said that he was pissed off because so many people were sad. And it wasn�t because he hated the feeling, but he felt like people were being fake. I couldn�t imagine somebody faking this...but...it wasn�t even the fact that they looked fake, he knew people didn�t actually know the kid who died. So he felt like they didn�t have the right to cry. Fuck that.
You don�t judge people because of why they�re crying. Holy shit. I was crying. Until he said that. I didn�t know the kid. I didn�t even really know his older brother. But I cried. For him. For my own reasons. For my friends.
~~
Third hour proceeded with the class suddenly quit their talking about Chris. Everybody became quiet again and the teacher put on a movie. It was something that her husband had recorded onto a DVD. It was about an autistic high school guy. You couldn�t really understand what he was saying, but he was a good guy. He was really into basketball and was there to support his team, even though he couldn�t play. He would put on a jersey and really feel what it was like to be on the sidelines with his team. He was a really awesome person. And in one game, and this was caught on film by a parent in the stands, the coach put the kid in! The crowd went crazy! It was so amazing to see everybody so excited for this guy to go on the court.
He shot two baskets, trying for lay-ups, but couldn�t make them in. But it was really cool to see the crowd cheer him on. It was such a feel good video.
He even tried a three-pointer...which swooshed!
Then, the next time he got the ball...he shot another three...it swooshed!! The crowd cheered him on.
He made another three!!! And another!!!!
He shot six three-pointers...which all went in...in four minutes!!!! By the sixth three-point shot, the crowd went insane. The crowd was so freakin� happy, that everybody flooded the court, and lifted this autistic boy on their shoulders. �I�ve always felt different...but not that different.�
And I couldn�t help myself...I was crying, in class, out of the happiness for this kid. It was amazing to see this crowd practically riot the court to lift this kid up. That�s a Hollywood ending. It was put on sixty minutes, a national show, so everybody could hear this story.
�That�s just great,� said the lead anchor.
~~
Fourth hour was completely different. I was at the Internet Movie DataBase, not touching my work, and forgot about everything.
But then lunch came...and I walked once again down the hallway...the hallways were still way too quiet...especially for a lunch period.
I looked around the lunch room. You could see so many people...just sitting there. You knew what they were talking about...if they were talking. You knew what they were thinking about. My table couldn�t help talk about Chris. The topic of people being fake, just to get out of class and skip school was brought up.
It is unbelievable that people would do that. That�s low...and I think it is too immature for high school people. I didn�t think it was true of course, I can�t believe that people would even do that. It just doesn�t happen. Nobody acts fake when somebody dies. Nobody. That�s evil. Agreed? Thank you.
But in the middle of Justin talking about how awful the day was, Anthony told him just to shut up. Justin was confused. I told Anthony that that was unnecessary. Emily even called him an asshole. I couldn�t imagine how it affected him. It must have. But you don�t need to tell others to shut up when you could leave the goddamn table. He didn�t. Erick even told him that he could leave. And Doug said that nothing was holding him back. Emily felt bad for calling him an asshole and left the table.
It worked...he sure shut the table up. I felt bad that Emily felt bad. But hey, it�s no big deal anymore.
~~
In death, an especially accidents and suicides...you just wish you could go back in time. That�s what dominates your thoughts. That you are unable to help...you can�t do anything. In death, all you have and can do is get over it. Are there any self-help books that talk about dealing with death? I would hope not. When would you read that? It�s not something you read right before going to sleep, I�ll tell you that. I won�t compare Chris� death to my Grand Theft Auto game, but I was closer to that back when I accidentally deleted it.
We�re more accepting of death when it�s not close to us. And that is why I felt so much better after first hour. Being able to thank God it wasn�t my friends or myself.
I can�t imagine losing someone. I mean, when I look back at myself in first hour, I was angry and couldn�t sit still. I wasn�t really sad, because I was so afraid. I tried to think about what I had done that God would take away someone. That�s another thing we think about in death...how it affects us. Why it affects us. People die everyday...and two days ago, it was Chris� turn. It shouldn�t have happened, it could have been avoided...or could it?
I won�t dedicate this entry to Chris, because this entry is dedicated to my morbid thoughts of my own friends dying. Yeah. And also, obviously, because nobody wants an entry like this about them. Nobody wishes for that.
People should want people to be happy when they die. I mean, if I died, and everybody was really happy about it...that�d be really awful, but you want people to talk about how awesome you were. And that�s what I was thinking all day...how awesome my friends were. I spent the night just like I had before...not watching the news (and learning about Chris� death), I spent it in the Video Production room editing stuff. I quit working on �Butterknife,� the �Saw� spoof, and worked on an intro. Since there was no school today, nobody will see it until next week, but...
We did do something for Chris. Doug and McB went around and filmed all the art...all the posters...all the things people wrote about it...the long poetry that was written in his memory...all the stuff people cared to write because they knew he wasn�t there. I�m sure he would be very happy to see how people reacted...except I�m sure he wouldn�t wish to see so much sadness. I would hate to see so much sadness. As would Justin.
As would everybody.
In death, be inspired. Learn from other�s mistakes. People who think too much about being safe and caring about others are those who think more about security than opportunity. Move on and get out there. Don�t be afraid of life rather than death.
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