North Star

14 | gatsby is boring

2009

"Can anyone tell me what they learned this year? Or what their favorite thing they learned was?"

I always found it hilarious when teachers asked us questions like this because they asked them so sincerely, and, yet, not a single student volunteered an answer. More often than not if someone did raise their hand, it was some kid who thought it was funny to purposely antagonize the teacher until they were sent to the principal's office.

Unsurprisingly, nobody in my homeroom class raised their hand. Since it was the last week of school, most students had mentally checked out already. (Myself being one of them.) And it wasn't a question any student actually wanted to answer, anyway.

The teacher took matters into their own hands and picked out students themselves. Most of the answers were generic just to get the teacher off their back. Some of them, the ones who genuinely enjoyed going to school, ended up giving interesting answers. Most of them flew past me, though, as most things did during my homeroom period. I was running late this morning after having slept through my three alarm clocks, which meant I was paying particularly less attention to this morning's discussion.

Of course, that meant I had the lucky fortune of getting called on as the last student before the bell was supposed to ring so we could head to our end-of-the-year assembly.

"What about you, Hokulani?"

"Um." I felt everyone's eyes on me. (Or it just felt like everyone.) (Most of them probably didn't care at this point.) My cuticle turned red from how hard I scratched it. "I learned that The Great Gatsby is incredibly boring and I'm convinced anyone who says otherwise is being paid to say so."

I hadn't considered I was talking to an English Lit teacher who likely had their classes read the damn thing, but they laughed so I felt slightly better.

"Fair enough," they said. "And what was your favorite thing you learned?"

If I sat there the entire day, I probably wouldn't have been able to come up with something interesting. But the longer I sat there in silence, listening to the clock tick on the wall, and not nearly fast enough for my liking, the more I realized the simple truth was the only thing that came to mind. So, I did it and watched as everyone turned to look at me, even the students that had not been paying attention to us before.

God, I hated being the center of attention. I never wanted to jump inside the mind of someone that did.

"I don't think I had a favorite learning moment," I answered truthfully.

They smiled politely, the same way any annoyed parent did when they were dealing with a petulant child. In my head and to my ears, it didn't sound that bad. My tone wasn't haughty or anything. But maybe my answer sounded different to everyone else. Maybe when I was forced to participate, I unintentionally became one of those antagonistic students

"Not one?" the teacher asked.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Come on, there has to be one thing you learned and liked that wasn't an insult to one of the most notable works of American literature, as valid of an opinion as it is."

My reply came quickly, again without thinking. "The only thing that comes to mind is that I hate learning in school."

"It can be tough adjusting to a new learning environment," they replied. "And sometimes our best learning opportunities aren't realized until later in life. Maybe over the summer, you'll be able to come up with something."

The teacher pivoted toward the board to move on, but I felt compelled to respond. "No, I don't just mean this school. Every school I've ever been to. I can't learn in a place like this."