The Negative Voice
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2002-12-17 -

Prickly and Arrogant, and Proud of It

Out of nowhere last night, I suddenly thought of Fat Ed.

"Fat Ed" was our nickname for our high school American Government teacher. He was named Ed, and he was fat, so I doubt I've lost anyone so far. Fat Ed was what I call a mean-spirited liberal, someone whose egalitarian tendencies have grown so strong that they vaguely resent any hint of excellence or high achievement. He never came right out and said so, of course, so maybe I imagined the whole thing. I can tell you, for sure, that he taught class to the lowest common denominator and often chastised smarter kids for their arrogance- which of course included me.

The argument that drove me to truly loathe Fat Ed was, of course, over gun control. That year gun control had come up fairly often as a topic in debate tournaments, so I had the latest anti-gun control research ready to hand at all times. I also had (then, as now) a fanatical hatred of the entire notion. Fat Ed liked the idea of gun control, based on the self-explanatory logic that says that guns can't hurt people if there are no guns. Our final fight went something like this:

"Mr Fat Ed (not that I called him that, but I'm not going to use his real name), you can't make the guns just vanish."

"Well, just because we can't think of a way doesn't mean there isn't one. We need to try harder."

"But I've just explained about ten different reasons why that's not going to happen."

"We need to get the top experts to really dig into this, is all."

"What experts?"

"You know, experts in the field."

"But Fat Ed, the only person in this classroom who's quoted any experts is me, and they're all on my side."

"That does it. Quiet down."

And thus, my dislike was sealed. Later that year, when he told me not to get cocky because I'd meet people at Michigan who were so smart they'd knock my socks off, I told him I'd believe it when I saw it and walked off. (He was wrong. I met people so smart I wanted to spend the next four years learning from them, but my socks remained firmly attached.)

The next year, he asked my SO, Kristen, if she was still "dating that Larke character." He said it in that way you say it when you want to hint that this constitutes a problem, or perhaps a DMS IV disorder. And Kristen mentioned this to me, and I got a little unravelled. I never thought much of teachers getting involved in student's personal lives without some sign of invitation, and for Fat Ed to be disparaging me to my woman, well, that made me just about as evil as an Eskimo boy can be.

I wrote him a letter. I told him to shut the fuck up, never talk to my woman about me again, and then accused him of being a third-rate Ellsworth Toohey knockoff. I'm still proud of that one. I felt just fine about that. My parents found one of my drafts in the trash and threw a hissy fit, but I just let that slide right off of me. Me good, him bad, parents irrelevant.

The worst thing about being in high school, for me, was just the absolute meaninglessness of everything we did. I was trying to create an identity for myself, with a set of values that respected deeds over words, in a situation where meaningful deeds just didn't happen. It's no wonder I developed an extremely prickly sort of arrogance. It's no wonder I still feel deep loathing for Kristen's mom for her constant hinting that I wasn't going to go anywhere in life.

Thankfully, I grew up, if not out. I've got some actual stuff to be proud of now, like being good at my job, and good to my family, and well, hell, the entire Liralyn experience, really. But there's still a part of my brain that's keeping score of all this, so that if I ever meet Fat Ed or Mother Gibbs, I can tell them to suck it. And I'll still be the only person in the conversation who's armed with the facts.

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