Translated…
The Seats Around T
We’d have different assigned seats once every semester, the teacher would use this opportunity, to make sure the troublemakers don’t sit anywhere NEAR one another, so the chaos wouldn’t be all at one place, to maintain the order during the class sessions. And, although we’d become very unwilling, we’d still, said goodbye to our “neighbors”, moved ourselves, into the next locations, and establish brand new bonds with our new “neighbors”, until the teacher hollered for us to stop talking in class.
There was, a classmate, T, who was, mentally retarded, we’d all, stayed, out of his way, and that might have stemmed from, how he was, somewhat, “different” compared to the rest of us, but, toward this behavior that we’d had, we’d all, rationalized it as “it’s because we wouldn’t know how to interact with him”, to justify what we were doing. Several times when our eyes met, I’d, evaded T’s gaze, like he would, see through my or something.
“The classmate sitting next to T needs to be nice to him! Then, let’s begin the class.”
Those, seemingly, ordinary seats, we’d called, “priority seats”.
And, every semester, those who sat around T, would feel anxious, of being picked, like how there’s, this instability, in the blockade of the chess pieces, that the moral base had, been, emptied out; like under certain situations, like going to the bathrooms in between classes, we’d had the responsibilities, to go with him, in case he might get lost or become helpless in the restrooms. Even, as T stared into his workbooks, we’d needed to, read his face, to see if he was having difficulties, and help him mangae his homework. And if we’d not done that, it’s like, we’d felt, so guilty.
On the contrary, those who don’t sit next to him (or those who’d already, “graduated” from the “priority seats” would always gloat, and make fun of the classmates who are now, occupying the “priority seats”.
The Cards at Christmas
T wasn’t the least bit active, he’s very quiet, too quiet even. And because of this, eery single move that he’d made, it’d, kept us, those who sat around him, on edge. Like the warning smokes rising up, some of us would make their escapes quickly, while others, had the look of, “me again!”, ready, to fulfill certain duties, like being called away, to serve ones’ own countries.
I’d not known, if T understood what we were talking about, along with how he’d felt, about the rest of us. And, these things, maybe, nobody will ever know, nobody will ever, care, after all, we’d only offered T assistance in form, a sort of a behavior that’s a kind of a moral responsibility—alonog with this sort of tolerance, this understanding we carried, for those who are, different than us, not discrimination. T was like a free get-right question etched, into our minds, the tracks of the circle of the answers, so strong, nobody ever questioned, that there may be, an alternative answer that might be correct.
We had all fallen before, so, when we’d seen the children who’d tripped and fell, we’d empathized their pains; we’d all once been brokenhearted in love or in a crush, so, we’d felt that strong scent of nostalgia toward the scenes on television. But, we’d never been mentally retarded—what is T thinking? Can he know what we’re all thinking? How, can we, understand what he was feeling?
The Christmas before graduation, we’d all gotten into a frenzy, writing the cards, and, on Christmas Day, we’d, traded them like business cards, with our friends; naturally, those friends who aren’t close to us, would only get those cheaper, smaller cards, or, maybe even none, and so, there’s that belief of “how many cards you received this year, is equivalent to your popularity this year”
As the final class period ended, I’d packed up my backpack, and was ready to head to cram school, and, out of my peripheral vision, I saw T slowly approaching, and, I’d felt, that sense of guilt, rising up inside. T fearfully, handed me a card, with my name on the envelope, and I’d, smiled, an awkward smile toward him.
“Thank you, for looking after me, the classmate in the ‘priority seats.’”
My mind went blank, just felt, that T was, walking away from me so very, slowly, and, all my classmates who bore witness to this, their laughters, all came out, so, very, slowly too.
In that moment, I seemed to, have finally, heard that kid who’d tripped and fallen inside, started crying louder, and louder inside of my heart, touching the pains of the experiences I could, relate to.
So, this, is how you’d, gained sympathy, of that kid that’s, “irregular” that’s, “not quite right”, because although, you’d disliked him, you’d not, shown it so overtly, you’d only, done what was within your duty and obligations, and, although, to you, you felt, that obligation toward him in helping him out, he’d, taken your helpfulness with gratitude…