High School Days

Desperation is a mixture of emotions lumped into one out of frustration, out of a wailing defense mechanism that is jolted by many past loss of defenses, loss of face, and loss of personhood. The denigration of character has a lot to do with the breakdown and abrasion of a person. I have been humiliated in many ways which I personally and subjectively called humiliation when others may call simply embarrassment or very small acts of reputation-breaking. I have been humiliated in high school when I got jumped on the fifth floor or was it the third? I was smacked right in the face right above my left eye. The scoundrel ran off and out of the building. The following day he was arrested and brought into school. I ran to the Dean that day and cried after a few minutes. Mr. Rowan the acting dean that year was rather apathetic, if not removed. He was incredibly distant, incredibly laid back to some extent. I can't say the administration is completely characterized as a dunce. Mrs. Pappaccino is my most revered lady. She is special to me mostly because she exudes a motherly aspect. She is jumping with a certain maternal warmth. Maybe it's her physical build--a rolly-polly, round, tippy-weight woman fit to be in a commercial with jogging outfit and headband. She does jog too! The lead dean Mr. Morales was a completely autocratic man. Though he resided in his office most of the time, he was clearly a tyrant and a dictator. The man was featured on the newspaper once for trashing Haitian flags. My Dad was unbeknownst to this behavior. He clearly admired Mr. Morales because the two times that he was summoned up to his office, he saw how Mr. Morales had disciplined me. To make himself look better, Dad ceded to Mr. Morales and allowed him to draw all his power. Clearly Mr. Morales looks great in front of my Dad and other parents because he wants to present himself in a good light. Now, I have nothing against him; I'm purely ranting out of other people's rants. I'm ranting because I'm affected by what other students have thought of him. It's more of a bandwagon if you ask me. The rest of the office was rather bare because security offices would change faces and most of them were black so according to my friends, sometimes they couldn't tell which guard was who because in a blur it was difficult to seek out the guard that wronged you. But of course when they really wronged you, well, you knew because you despised the hell out of them to really dig into their physical traits no matter what.

The thing about my high school was that it resembled a suburban school once you set foot onto the edge of the campus. The campus was huge. It was sprawling. In fact it was the biggest campus of grass and bushes in New York City or Brooklyn or something like that. But from the high fencing outside it looked like a prison, which it turned into three years ago, after my graduation. After 2008, my high school went down the drain. A perp had brought a weapon into the classroom for show and tell and he dropped it cautiously. Then the cops ordered the school on lockdown and I hid with my peers under a cafeteria table for two hours. Ok, maybe not under the table literally. But in 2008 we were all huddled inside the cafeteria. When the bell rang and the announcement was made for all personnel and students to remain inside their spaces I was rattled. But not entirely rattled. Once the news traveled to me that maybe someone was on the loose, prowling the school halls, I thought WOW this is ridiculous, why does this sound like a movie. Perhaps the movie Elephant by Gus van Sant? But of course it was not funny to make that conjecture at a moment when all lives were at risk and anyone could come marching in through the three set of doors and start flashing. If there was anything memorable about that day, it was that some of my friends recalled getting out of school exactly before it went on lockdown. They were lucky because they got to stay at home. For us, we stayed inside the cafeteria. I bet those who stayed in the bathroom were the most scared because, well, they didn't have protection and they would be most vulnerable. That year was the last year that all cell phones would be allowed. Once the metal detectors swooped in, we had to have the Deli across the street hold our cellphones for a price. The store made shitload of money because of that! Clearly they profitted well from a critical time in our lives, when phones which were our lifelines to our families, were being ousted from our hands. When this occurred, some kids went to lengths to hide the phone by stashing in under their socks, inside of their shoes, and even in their foiled lunches which escaped the invisible rays of the metal detector.

How can I forget the music wing of my high school? I cannot. It was clearly accessible once I entered through the front main doors. The music wing also led to an exit straight outside the school and to the parking lot which was segregated by a drawgate. The music wing was most incredible for its hangout space. It also made an incredible entrance for a music video. But mostly the music wing harbored memories that I will never forget. I won't forget Mr. Tannenbaum, the late father figure I had. He was simply incredible to me. To this day I deny that he is gone. I deny that he is no longer with the community. I still remember him sifting through his pile of guitars and lending me his Martin and his old Takamine which he dressed up as a hippie guitar. I also remember the Epiphone slope shoulder guitar that he let me borrow for a day. He was very lenient because he trusted me. He trusted me with all his might and all his heart that I did him wrong when I returned the guitars. I remember he was the first one who believed in my songwriting skills. In my freshman year he promoted me and allowed me to perform at Ace Cafe with Ms. Clarke at the register. Mr. Tannenbaum will never be forgotten. He is one of the few extraordinary teachers and staff member who exudes humility. I won't say that he isn't annoying sometimes, but his annoyance is bearable. Also, he is incredibly generous and he would help whenever he could. His generosity is unmeasurable and his advise is always keen. I remember when Mr. Tannenbaum drove me and Ms. Napolitano to Staten Island to see my art work at the gallery. This was an impromptu visit to the museum which was approximately 10 to 20 miles away from Brooklyn. The drive was not short either. We dined at a cafe along the way and Mr. T paid for the bill. Though Mr. T's confidant and pal Mr. Fried (also the principal) was not very approving of teacher-student shared spaces, Mr. T. gladly allowed me to take back seat. This was simply generous and approving. I was very grateful that he drove us to the exhibition. Throughout the entire ride I was exuberant and incredibly fidgety. I kept repeating Mr. Carito's annoying mantra, "designer." I kept saying it over and over and over like a broken robot: "Dez-zine-ah!" Mr. T. was fed up by the fortieth time I used Designer and it was hilarious. I don't remember how he dealt with me. I do remember that he said, If you say Designer one more time... I don't remember the rest. I wish I did. I made a music video of the entire trip but I failed to capture his face, which he guarded against. He didn't want to be on video. That day exhibited the intimacy between high school teachers and student. It exhibited many facets of care and consideration. At the show, Mr. T snapped away pictures and Ms. Napolitano also got to explore the many artworks. I have a video of Mr. T. cleaning out his red jalopy, a small, dwarfed station wagon. His belongings burped at this windows and they were spilling from his doors when he unlocked all his doors. He did some swift cleaning which tame the mess of his car. Clearly he has accumulated ten years worth of belongings in his car. When I watch the video I can't help but think about calling him. I still remember his cell phone number and his voicemail. Eerie thought that I will call him and hear the response whether it's his voicemail or it's the operator stating the line no longer works. I dreamt that he would respond to me and say that he's actually ok and doing well. Freaky and tear-jerking.

When I hung around Mr. Steinberg's music wing, I was invited into his office where he ranted and mumbled about his students and the classical music that he got inhaled. During my sophomore year I had a crush on Stephanie, this lanky, skinny, slender Chinese girl who had subtle braces and a heck of a wide smile. She was incredibly timid and quiet. I got to speak to her a few maybe dozen times. But at the end we parted our ways and by my senior year she had disappeared and Mr. Steinberg had no clue where she went off to. To this day I wonder where she went. She reminded me of Rainy Wu from my junior high. She had glasses and braces and she was slender and tall. Me and tall, slender Chinese girls. And just now, I found out that she went to a NJ high school and she is attending Rutgers. Interesting because Facebook allows me to reconnect with other people. Well it allows me to locate other people; reconnecting is purely an option I have to make. The future results are something I must contend with (if I choose to set things in motion). Mr. Steinberg was my favorite character since discovering him teaching guitar class in my freshman year. He was kind to me because he let me perform for his guitar class during some days and he would sometimes let me commandeer his class and teach it however way I wanted aka letting me bullshit about music theory which I knew little to nothing about. Mr. Tannenbaum developed an aversion toward Steinberg because of his scenility and his adamant personality. Even though Steinberg quit I still remember him as a teacher who was high on life and simply on another planet full of supercharged energy drinks that was surely in his blood for 24 hours of the day.

I can't help but think about Ray, the school staff member who does delivers, guards the cafeteria, and other miscellaneous chores. He's been ordered around like a dog. I remember our first meeting in the cafeteria when he was manning the lines at the two doors. People would bumrush the line and students would be compressed on line, waiting for cheap burgers, burnt chicken fingers, and tater tots that were extremely fattening. Lunch time was a time for chaos especially because lunch was held three to four periods in a day. During these different periods it was enough to separate the school of nearly two thousand kids. This population was not big; I had seen all the faces by the end of the day during dismissal. By senior year I had known 90% of the student body, maybe even personally. I thought Ray was a total loser when I first saw him. His voice was a little strange and unusual. But after I got to know him, he would let me out of the lunchroom because he knew me. He would let me slide a few dozen times. Ray was incredibly chill, laid back, undefensive, and always generous to even the kids who were playing hooky. I have a feeling that Ray paid for all those misdemeanors with his time or with office meetings with the principal or other staff members. I have a feeling that when shit hits the fan Ray gets blamed and I feel bad for him. Ray took a picture of me on his Kodak disposable camera three years ago. I couldn't believe he still had that on him!!! He is definitely an antiquarian. I cannot believe that he is not married and that he used to be an actor when he didn't put on the twenty to thirty pounds on his stomach.