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Fielder [ And no, not Center Fielder]

Published by Still Life in the blog Still Life's blog. Views: 110

Someone finally understands me. Funny how the package the someone comes in is so tiny. All it took were a few words from my nine-year-old brother:

" Without you," he says, rolling around on the carpet with my kittens, " I'm so bored!"

Just five simple words, and it fills me with glee.

I remember, in high school, I had wanted to say the same exact words to my creative writing teacher, Charles Fielder, but never got the chance to because I ditched graduation (Me and a friend climbed the gates and took off running). This man, he, lol, he was the most eccentric man I have ever met in my entire life.

When class was in session one day, he drew down the blinds; He trudged to his desk in the middle of the room; He sat at the edge of the desk, and leaned over conspiratorily, and nodded slowly and said, " Those other teachers, the ones in the 300 building? I bet they're plotting against me. No, I'm almost sure of it. And, you know what?"

A collective " What?" (mostly in a droll tone) from the students.

He did a little skip and jabbed the air with his index finger: " Well, I'm gonna write a novel about it!"

And knowing Fielder, he's probably on his 1500th page right now.

Everyone knew I was bored in class. Ask my AP US HISTORY teacher who so kindly put it in the form of a rhetorical question: " If you have so much time to finish all those novels, why don't you ever have time to do your homework?" Of course, I had no reply at the time, but sure as hell, once I stepped out of that classroom, I wanted to march back in and say, " ' Cause. I'm. Bored, damnit!" , but I'm always a minute too late.

But Fielder was never boring. He was a maniac! He thought the other teachers were plotting against him, he probably had a closet filled with the same clothes, he snuck us out of class to go the park because he felt the room was too - what was that word? - confining, he expressed in more ways than one that my writing was " too sad" and always tried to convince me to change the ending:

" Why does the mother have to die at the end?"

(Those were the times I was not getting along so swimmingly with my mother).

I will be going to see Fielder again in a month, with my story. School will be opening again. I'm sure he will be disappointed to know that I had dropped out of college years ago to pursue a drab career in a translation firm. But I'm certain, one hundered percent, without a shade of doubt, that he'll be damned glad I kept up writing.

I think maybe I will tell him this time. " Without you, Fielder, everyone here should just tie boulders to their feet and jump into the Pacific."

I wouldn't go so far as to tie boulders, you know, just in case. But I think I might have jumped into the Pacific.
  • starrynight89
  • Still Life
  • starrynight89
  • starrynight89
  • starrynight89
  • Still Life
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