The problem with being a genius in school is that all the morons want the answers for free. OK, I wasn't a genius but I did damn well enough in school to get the attention of dullards who wanted a free ride. Eventually it irked the hell out of me to help them. Most of them, 98% were of the “I'm too damn lazy to do the work myself” and the last 2% really did need help. I wasn't pissed with the 2%. I would help them freely.
Like any jr high school, girls form their “best friend” cliques, until one of them ruins it all with a fight over God Knows What. Boys, money, gossip...mostly malicious gossip.
There was a clot of three girls who I detested because all three were congeniality stupid/lazy and would never ever stop pestering me for the “answers.” There's be a test we'd have to take in whatever class and I'd get the tap on the back or whatever to quickly show my paper to one as she took down the answers then showed the other two as well. We were rarely caught as the teachers were staring out the window or, as I found out later, allowed cheating because it raised the general grade in the class making the teacher look “good.” How do I know that? Because years later at a local bar, I sat with a few of my older teachers and some let loose that tidbit. (cough..cough..Mr. Coughlin of Gen Civics and American Gov't).
Back to those girls..
There was Sandra, the leader, who looked pretty damn butch and could fight any boy she wanted. She also was the biggest simpleton of that group. As we were all 14 or 15 years old, puberty had hit and the girls were trying their best to change from 12-13 year old tomboys to young ladies. New, sometimes bad attempts at mascara were tried. They wore perfume and forever brushed their Farrah Fawcett feathered hair styles. Sandra, I will say, never bothered with that shit at all. She dressed like a boy and her hair style was the Prince Valliant cut. She wasn't a dyke, as I found out later, she just wasn't feminine at all, nor cared to be till she hit high school.
Her two followers were Karen and Beth. Those two were prettier and tended to try to dress “nicer” and more “teen girl” as well as they could. But, being from real blue collar families they couldn't afford the latest fashion nor the new Jordache jeans that were out. Each of these two were pretty dumb as well but it was from lack of even trying in class. They figured out you could skate along, doing little as possible and still make it to the next grade. In Pawtucket schools then, (prob now too) you had to be drooling and falling down in the hallways before they'd ship you to that “other” school, otherwise, they'd pass you onto the next grade, even if you never learned to read, I saw a few of those.
**
Many of those kids in my class swore that all I had to do, was read something once, and it stuck in my head...for years. That wasn't true, it took three repetitions to stick. That ability I did have. Anyways, I actually did the reading, homework and tried to get good marks. Doing these things actually helps you pass the class, but it takes effort..WORK.
So, when the dimwits would hit me up for the information I started to get pissed. Why? Because I felt like I was a god damn Welfare Office handing out checks to those who could work, but won't. In fact, I said that to those three once and their reply was:
“HA, We're smart! We pass all the grades and don't work like YOU do!”
No joke, they said that. In their minds, they adopted the slave mentality of long ago...”Do enough work to keep the lash off your back.” Doing as little as possible was the smart way to go about it and what I was doing, studying, was Fool's Errand.
(Shit, I still see this in adults now)
The point being...I did the work and they tried to get a free ride off of my effort. I got tired of it.
So...after being too “nice” for too long I really started to hate them and any others who tried to climb onto my back so I'd carry them around like a baby in a papoose. Most could get a passing grade but were too lazy to do it. So, I cut them off. “Stand on your own two legs you welfare slop muppets!”
Holy Shit! Did they start to freak out. Their well was closed and there was little other way to pass the tests, except to study for them. To do the WORK required.
The third quarter exams were coming up and how they kept hounding me for schemes to set up in all classes to cheat off of me.
“Fuck No” I said.
So, being lower class drogs that they were, they resorted to what works at their homes. “I'll get my brother to beat on you!” “I'll tell the principal who set off the M-80's in the lockers last year!” And the final one...”We'll tell everyone you sell pot!” (That was true, but only to a very, very few select individuals..and those girls weren't on the list)
So I say...
“Go ahead..tell them...tell everyone...who's going to believe that an “A” student who causes no problems at this school...is a punk?”
“I'm an angel!” I added. What I did at school and what I did in my neighborhood were two different things. I never mixed the two. It's a good work ethic to have as an adult too. Know what days to party...and what days not to. I had a decent reputation at school and around the neighborhood, I was a feral animal. I was even called that by a neighbor once.
A few days pass, the exams are getting closer and the clique gets more desperate. Their pestering won't stop.
“Ya know,” I tell them, “the MORE you ask me, badger me...makes me hate you even more!”
So what do they do?
The
bug me harder. If you have no other tactics, you just raise the volume on the only one you have.
The day of the exam occurs and of course, they all fail miserably.
Some of the other kids, who were watching this all along, my “strike” and the girls trying to break it asked: “Don't you care they failed?
“Nope! I don't give a fuck!” I really didn't. Once you do a great job at making me hate your guts, it tends to stick for a while.
**
So the last quarter is upon us, then were free for the summer, just one more round of exams and we're done for the year. I had kept those three off my “help” list still.
But
since they were in danger of failing for the year, they had to try
again. I won't repeat here what they tried, basically it was the same
shit, empty threats, begging, pleading and badgering. It didn't work
at all. They never once thought of trying some positive...vinegar and honey, you know?
Goff Jr High was a prison-like school. We lined up for everything. Teachers and administration stood in the halls like prison guards when classes changed. The lunchroom was patrolled in the same manner. But for some reason, if you finished lunch, you were free to amble back to the classroom at your leisure, w/o a guard/teacher escort. Some kids took this freedom to amble on home, blowing off the last three classes.
So I go back to Mr O'Donnel's class and there is just one other person there, Beth, the prettiest one of that clique who were at me.
“Why won't you help us” she says after I sit down.
I turn around, “Are we going over this AGAIN?”
“Why won't you do it? C'mon..just do it...”
I then say.
“OK, make it worth my while, I'll help all of you for $5 a piece.
“FUCK YOU!” she shouts at me.
“FUCK YOU TOO!” I yell back at her and I say further, really ticked off...
“You know, there's NOTHING you or the other two could possibly OFFER me at all to help you! You have NOTHING!”
I
spun around in my chair, stewing and thinking. “God I hate those
fucks...they never stop!” It gets tiring when you're being constantly hounded by those you don't like anyway....with the same request over and over and over again.
There are those times, in an argument where you come up with the best come back line ever. These lines aren't crafted in advance, they have to come from deep within and are immediate and they crush your enemy. I didn't even know where I pulled up this but it came to me quite quickly.
I turn around back to her and I lock my eyes onto hers. She's still pissed and glaring at me still.
“Ya know, I take that back. You're a girl..right? There is ONE THING you could do for me.”
I let that hang in the air, still staring at her.
It took about...5 seconds...and then she broke her glare at me to staring vacantly at the blackboard at the head of the room. I knew she got it.
I kept looking at her and she kept staring at the wall, trying her best to ignore the fact I'm in the classroom still.
To drive the nail even deeper into the wood I say:
“Look, I like you best out of all three, you're the prettiest. If you do this...I PROMISE to help you pass for the entire year....you can even spit it out if you want to too.”
Silence.
A few more seconds go by and I tell her
“Won't do that either...huh?”
More silence...
More kids filtered into our classroom as they came from the cafeteria. I sat there, amazed that that had come out of my mouth. Eventually I didn't care to tell the truth, those three were on me for months and I had had enough.
All three never bothered me again.
That was 42 years ago! Do I regret it? Nope! I can be VERY accommodating with people but I really despise being squeezed and wrung out like a cheap wash cloth. Want to win with me? Honey works, so does equitable treatment.
By the way, this would work with you if you consider the numerous times you've been run over by the others in your life.
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