Home Games All LiteraryClubs Events Forums Green Room Poetry Prose Roleplays

Unreasonable Progress (Edited)

J. Wilder · 2004-12-17T03:40:18Z

Don't read this if you are offended by swearing. I gave it a PG13 rating for the language, but it's fine if younger people read it. I just gave it that rating because that's what it would probably get if the MPA was rating it or something... Edit: Even though I haven't finished a complete first draft of this, I've started on a second one. Most of the changes here are minor, except that I'm trying out Judith as a third narrator. I think it might be hard to make three narrators sound completely different from each other, though. Let me know what you think. UNREASONABLE PROGRESS "The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man." --George Bernard Shaw JANUARY 2001 CHAPTER 1 J.T. “Locking a teacher in the supply closet,” accused the principal, Cynthia Wood. She looked concerned. “He got in there voluntarily,” I insisted. “Leaving him there for three periods ,” she went on as if she just couldn’t see how anybody could have done something so terrible. “He said he wasn’t hungry,” I justified. “Jordan, Jordan, Jordan.” She always repeated my name like that, as though it would somehow make me totally remorseful all of a sudden for everything I’d done. Like that was happening. “Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia,” I said. “You know we can’t just let you go with a warning this time,” she said. That was stupid. When had they ever let me go with just a warning? “J.T., you know very well that this isn’t your first offense.” “I’ve never locked anyone in a supply closet before yesterday,” I informed her, putting my feet up on her desk. “I don’t just mean this incident, J.T. And I am not only referring to the fact that you are failing over half of your classes. For the last year and half, we’ve been putting up with your pranks, your practical jokes, your lack of application...” I took out my headphones and prepared to put them on, letting her know I didn’t care to hear the list. “...your defiance, your complete disregard for the rules...and then of course there’s your drug problem...” “I’m not on drugs,” I said. “I’m not here to judge, J.T.” What the hell? “I’m not on drugs!” I persisted, although it was, for some reason, a pretty common misconception. “What bothers me most,” said Ms. Wood, “is that the entire student body looks up to you . If J.T. Tyler locks a teacher in a supply closet, seven hundred and nineteen other children are going to lock teachers in supply closets. Don’t you see the fix I’m in?” “Don’t you see I don’t give a shit?” She sighed. When I’d first come to the school and said something like that, she’d freaked out. Now it was expected. “Look. J.T. They follow you. They want to be like you. For some reason that I can’t possibly comprehend, you’re a role model--so you should try setting a good example every once in a while.” “You don’t get it,” I realized, leaning back to balance the chair on two legs, holding onto the desk to stay up. “Maybe this is why they look up to me. I have the guts to do what they want to do but don’t. Listen. I locked McDillan in the closet because he was being a jackass. The whole class knew he was being a jackass. They all wanted him to be locked in a supply closet. Any one-a’ them woulda’ been the one to do it if they weren’t so fuckin’ scared of you . Dig?” She had her arms folded now. Something about this meeting was different than all the other times I had been sitting there in Ms. Wood’s office. I should have known what it was, because I’d already been expelled from four elementary schools. This was a middle school, though. It had been a full two years since I had been expelled. I guess I’d forgotten what it was like. “I’ve called your parents, Jordan,” Ms. Woods said. “They should arrive at any minute.” The last time they had been in the office with me it had been pretty embarrassing. I’d been in trouble for a repeated offense of public displays of affection, which basically meant I’d been making out in hallways too much. They made a huge deal about it. In high school they don’t care, but they crack down on it pretty hard in middle school. And in elementary school. And in preschool. I thought the whole thing was pretty stupid. It was just kissing, really, but they acted like I was hosting orgies in the middle of the cafeteria. “Please sit down, Mr. Tyler, Mrs. Tyler.” My parents sat. They were pretty normal people, actually. People thought that because of the way I was turning out, I must have had a broken family, or abusive parents, or something. Nah. They were assholes, but not criminal assholes, and they even had a perfect marriage and everything. I never understood what the big deal was with broken families, anyway. If my parents had been divorced, I wouldn’t have given a damn. If they had never been around, I wouldn’t have given a damn about that either--hell, I'd be glad. Of course it sucked to have abusive parents, though. My dad had hit me once a year or two ago, but I had just hit him back harder--so it never happened again. It would have happened again if I hadn’t hit him back. My dad was a tall, balding electronics engineer, with a pretty clueless expression on his face most of the time when it came to stuff about me. He had a pretty high IQ--not as high as mine, but pretty high. He wasn’t stupid about everything. He was just stupid when it came to me. He was smiling then, like this was a tea party or something. My mom had the same clueless expression. She was a few inches shorter than my dad, and was not going bald. “I assume you’re aware of the trouble your son has been causing,” Ms. Wood said, frowning like this was important. She didn’t wait for an answer or anything. She talked to my parents for a pretty long time about boring grown-up stuff. I put on my headphones, and they didn’t even notice until I blasted “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” “J.T., it’s hurting our ears...” Yeah right. Then they went telling us kids not to exaggerate. Oh well--it wasn’t as hypocritical as some other things people did. Everybody was a hypocrite. Even I was a hypocrite. At least I knew it. “So I can’t imagine what it’s doing to you ,” my mom finished. “I’m alright, really,” I said. I could hear her because at that point I was between tracks. “J.T., you should be listening to this,” said Dad. “I am listening,” I said. “I have an incredible ability to double-task.” I took the headphones off, but only because I wanted to switch CDs. “What’s up?” Ms. Wood cleared her throat. I took out Nirvana and flipped through my CD case. “J.T.,” Ms. Wood said. “J.T. Listen to me.” They kept on saying my name. I don’t really know why. Ms. Wood had said my name about a thousand times in this meeting. “Yeah?” “I am beginning to think...” She took a deep breath. That’s when I realized what was coming. I had mixed emotions about it. On the one hand I had a lot of friends there, but on the other hand I figured I would probably end up at River Heights Junior High, where all my friends from elementary school went, including my best friend, Dave. “That’s good,” I said. “I begin to think sometimes, too.” “Yes, well...J.T.,”--there it was again--“we’re beginning to think that West Street Middle School is not the right place for you.” No shit, Sherlock. I almost laughed. West Street Middle School wasn’t the right place for anybody who wasn’t a studious square who got straight A’s and actually liked history class, or at least thought it was okay. “You’re kicking me out,” I said emotionlessly. “She’s only saying that maybe you should try something else, J.T.,” my mother said. My mother was a very deluded person. “I’m kicking you out,” said Ms. Woods. It sounded weird coming from her. You’d think she’d have had some more polite way to say it. “It’s okay,” I told my parents. “I'll go to RHJH." “J.T., I don’t think you’d do any better at River Heights Junior High than you are doing here,” said Ms. Wood. “Me neither,” I agreed. I didn’t think that meant anything. “I think there is a better alternative,” said Ms. Wood. I guess I was kind of curious about that. I wondered if they could get permission from the government to let me drop out of school completely. “When my son was your age, I sent him to St. Joseph Hall.” “What is that, some private school?” I asked. I had kind of a grudge against private schools. “Yes,” she said, but she sounded as though there were more to it than that. Oh, no, I thought. It’s a juvenile correctional facility. I had never been to one of those, but there had been some close calls. My cousin Jace had been in a reformatory once and juvy a couple of times, and he was only a couple of years older than me. Of course he wasn’t from River Heights. I bet a River Heights kid would get killed in juvy. “It’s a Catholic boarding school for boys.” I burst out laughing. That was, of course, a million times worse than a juvenile correctional facility. She went on and on about the great education I would receive in--get this--Oregon. Like my parents were going to send me out of the state because she said so.

Areida

Gender

Points 17580

Reviews 798

Thu Aug 04, 2005 11:13 pm

Areida says... · Thu Aug 04, 2005 11:13 pm

*glances over at own sweater vest in the corner, the one that she will be wearing in less than four weeks*

Yeah, let's not be too harsh on the sweater vests.

Just kidding.

I do really like this, though.

Got YWS?

"Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed."
- Dale Carnegie

Quote

Pigeon poop is the best way to solve problems.
— Pompadour

Unreasonable Progress (Edited)

About / Info

Forums & RPG

Literary

Resources