:: new management ::

She teaches class the way an auctioneer sells off an estate.  There is no silence, as though silence would punish us with its presence, would take something away from us just by existing.  But sometimes silence does us good.  Sometimes it pushes us to do what we wouldn't in the noise, make us say I'm sorry in the rippling wake of angry words.  

She wrote an angry word -- no, a whole angry sentence -- on the wall of the girls' bathroom.  They closed it for the day to paint over the sentence, and I might not have thought about it again except that My Name was the noun, followed by a common state of being verb and a predicate nominative (I learned that in 7th grade English, the same year I learned how much it hurts to be called fat).  It is one thing to tell the truth, to offend with a mirror, but it's other broken glass to say: this is, when, it isn't.  Pushed into the skin and bleeding, in stillness, in any ordinary silence.  

So it's a good thing this woman isn't letting any silence in.  Good thing.  


Anonymous Mario Gervasi said...

I miss your posts Mandy! I hope to read more of your great work soon on your blog. :-)

1:50 PM  
Blogger thesmallblondeone said...

Roommate! Write more about your fabulous life!

7:39 AM  

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