So first hour, HST (which used to stand for Hot Student Teacher and now stands for Hot Science Teacher) asked me how I was doing. I said I'd been better, and I fumbled with my words. I felt like I hadn't explained myself well enough, so I asked him to read my DC Comp paper that pretty much explains it. (I really should post that since I reference it so much.) I stood by his desk awkwardly as he read through it. He didn't even stop for the pledge, he just stood up with my laptop and continued reading.
After he finished, he asked me if I wanted to go talk in the hallway. I didn't realize until he asked me that that was what I wanted. I went outside to the hallway and waited for him. It hit me that this was kind of a big deal - he was getting another teacher to watch the class so he could talk to me. My face crumpled up, and by the time he joined me in the hallway, I was crying outright. I'm not very proud of this, but yeah, I was thinking "holy shit, I am crying in front of HST and I have his full, undivided attention holy shit". I tried talking, but when it became clear that this would become a more involved discussion, he moved us to an empty classroom. We sat side-by-side in desks, facing each other as if we were talking across the aisle during class. For some reason that resonated with me, felt like we were on the same level. He asked what was going on and I told him what happened last night, and then I gave a brief overview of the rest of my issues. I touched upon my emotionally abusive stepmom, wanting to get out of this town because the homophobia sickens me (especially having a lesbian mom), and putting pressure on myself for college. He kept going back to my Comp paper, and at one point he said that some of the stuff really concerned him. This was the reaction I had expected from my Comp teacher.
In between my blubbered confessions and explanations, he told me how he had been some of the same way in high school. He even confessed that he had considered doing something to himself, and that convinced me that he really did understand. Everything he said made my insides go squoosh. Hearing the things he was saying, especially from somebody I admire so much, was really emotional. Some highlights:
- "You have a lot of people who care about you and I'm one of them."
- "In high school, I was kind of a cynical asshole." (Okay this one was more of a swoonage.)
- "I can do anything in my power for you. I can go get you somebody to talk to, something, take you somewhere, just tell me what you need."
I told him I just needed to cry, because at that point talking about shit wasn't going to help; I needed to release all the tension. I crossed my legs onto the chair, buried my face in my hands, and let it rip. It was kind of weird, because goddamn I cried on fucking command, but it felt really good. I heaved and gasped and got my hands all snotty and wet. After about a minute, maybe two (it's hard to judge time when you're sitting in an empty classroom having a meltdown in front of somebody else), I looked up to ask for a tissue and I swear he was tearing up. He left to find a box of tissues, and I put my head down and cried some more, except it was more shuddering gasps than anything. I wondered what was going through his head - was seeing me cry so openly and unrestrained really that painful? I don't want to worry anybody, never ever. But I know people ARE worried about me and I don't know how I feel about that.
He came back with another teacher and the tissues, and I talked to her for like half a minute. After that HST asked if I wanted to see the counselor. I decided that yeah, I was in no condition to go back to class, I agreed and he walked me down to her office. My College Algebra teacher saw us walking down the hallway and asked what was going on. I could feel the gears grinding in HST's mind as he hesitated. Obviously a big explanation wasn't right for the moment, but what can you say when you're escorting a teenage girl in evident emotional distress down a hallway? He ended up saying, "Just taking care of business" in a tone that implied that I wasn't at fault for anything, but also had an air of finality like he was trying to say he had the situation under control.
I just realized that HST is not even a month into his teaching career and he's already dealing with a student struggling with anxiety and depression and breakdowns at school. I have to wonder if I'm scaring him and freaking him out about being a teacher, or if I'm reaffirming his choice. I really hope - and I'm certain this is true - that he really cares about his students and that's a big part of why he went into teaching. Yeah, having a keen interest in a subject *helps* when you're a teacher, but the connection you make with the student is just as important.
So. At the counselor's office. I show her my paper and she talks to me about college. She clarifies a lot of things, and I feel a lot better now. She points out that the start of school is clearly a trigger for me, since I was in this same position last year, and that now I should be able to anticipate this yearly and do something about it before it's too late.
Every time my mind drifted off today, I found myself thinking back to that empty classroom where I told HST most of my dirty little secrets. I feel closer to him now and less awkward, and I really hope that we can keep talking throughout the year.
Oh, and I took off work so I could relax and do homework for tomorrow. I'm glad I did that.
I can feel my NyQuil about to knock me on my ass, so I better wrap this up.
If you read this, even if you never talk to me about it, thank you. People who are willing to peek inside my crazy hot mess of a mind are my favorite people. <3333
