There’s a boy that joined my class two days ago. His name is Jevon. He is an assburger. We often have chats that make little sense. In my mind, he talks like Mr. Smith from The Matrix. This conversation took place in Chinese, bar the expletive, whilst I was teaching the rest of the class about recycling.
Jevon: This is my airplane.
Jme: I am aware of this.
Jevon: It is not your airplane.
Jme: I know that.
Jevon: Do not take my airplane.
Jme: I won’t, because it is… your airplane.
Jevon: Correct.
I teach. He waits.
Jevon: This airplane, my mother gave it to me.
Jme: Ok.
Jevon: She’s not here.
Jme: I know.
Jevon: She gave me this airplane. I hold it, so I can think about her. It is not your airplane.
I teach more. He goes to the bathroom. He comes back and wipes his washed hands on the back of my shirt.
Jevon: Your shirt is wet.
I wait.
He laughs.
I lose it.
I drag him into the bathroom and wash my hands and wipe them on his shirt, for I live in the Old Testament and am not the bigger man here.
We return to class.
He’s furious.
Jevon: I am angry with you.
Jme: Yeah, same here fucktard.
Jevon: I will tell my mother.
Jme: I will also tell my mother.
Jevon: She will be angry with you.
Jme: Good.
I hold out a card with a letter on it and a marker for Jevon to take and copy onto the whiteboard. He cannot do it, without putting the airplane model down.
Jme: Give me the airplane Jevon.
Jevon: I cannot do that.
Jme: The airplane, Jevon… I want you to write the letter H on the board.
Jevon bats my card and marker aside and refuses to write. He laughs. I grow tired of him. I take away his airplane.
Jevon: That is my airplane.
Jme: It is no longer your airplane.
Jevon: That is my airplane.
Jme: It is now my airplane. Write the letter and I’ll give it back to you.
Jevon is furious, arms at his side, silent. He’s trying to make me feel that I am not the bigger man here but he doesn’t know how stubborn I am.
Jevon: I am angry with you.
Jme: That is, to be expected. (<---- this was in English lol)
Jevon: I cannot be more angry. I am so angry. Angry.
I return the airplane, because my co-teacher is giving me the look that says I am a little man. Jevon takes the airplane and like Beckett reverts to type.
Jevon: This is my airplane.
Jme: I am aware.
Jevon: It is not your airplane.
Jme: I know.
Jevon: Do not take my airplane.
Jme: I won’t, because it is… your airplane.
Jevon: Correct.
I teach. He waits.