Masochists

Carl and Jon are masochists. They love to be tortured. They follow a girl around the school all day, submitting themselves to her relentless taunting and torturing of them. They get beaten down and go back for more.

“Yo! Carl is a loser! His mother don’t love him!” she says
“Jon’s fat!” she shouts. She makes up a song and teaches everyone. It’s called “Jon’s fat” and Jon sings along, often doing the chorus on his own.

Boom, click, boom boom – jon’s fat
Boom, click, boom boom – he’s fat.
Boom, click, boom boom
Boom boom boom

He wants that taco bell
Pizza hut and burger king
Extra fries with onion rings

Boom, click, boom boom – jon’s fat
Boom, click, boom boom – he’s fat.
Boom, click, boom boom
Boom boom boom

And Chicken wings
Are so tasty, he said
But he once took
A monkey to bed

Boom, click, boom boom – jon’s fat
Boom, click, boom boom – he’s fat.
Boom, click, boom boom
Boom boom boom

“Why do you follow her?” we ask them incredulously. “Why do you want to be around that? You are so much better than that.” They eat lunch with Mr. M and myself most days, in his classroom, playing connect four while they tell us stories about their days. They shrug. There really is no good answer.

Carl has a history of masochism. Last year he flushed his own head down the toilet in an effort to make kids laugh. He allowed himself to be put in a lunchroom trash can and have ‘LOSER’ written in sharpie on his forehead. He marched around the room and the school, allowing everyone to see it and laugh at him. One day in the park, he took off his pants in front of a crowd and straddled a pole. He asks questions in ELA about getting pregnant from masturbating, and last week, when a kid asked him if he was a virgin, he confidently said, “my hand’s not,” elaborating when he was rewarded with explosive laugher, “neither is my pillow.” He cries easily, publicly, and often. He flourishes when he is given any type of attention, blossoms in the glow of laughter, even if it is at his expense.

This is not a stupid kid. He is one of the smarted kids in the grade. He scores high on state exams, reads on a 12th grade level, and loves to draw. He writes well, and reads beautifully, using voices, acknowledging punctuation and pausing for effect. This year, he is in a class where he is away from the people who tortured him in the past, and though he does still go looking for it after school, for the first time he is seeking attention in a way that is positive. He makes us all laugh – not at him, but because he is funny. Because he writes rhymes and raps and beats that are clever, and he performs them with confidence – after all, he’s been the center of attention for years. He is being given a stage, and on it he is finally getting what he longs for – attention – but in a good way.

Jon has never been given the time of day by a teacher. His squeaky prepubescent voice haunted me last year, never stopping, never on task, always trying to impress this girl, even as she put him down. This year, he is in Mr. M’s math class, and he is treated like a star. He is treated like a cool kid, and in turn, for the first time, he acts like one. When I see him he is polite and respectful. He behaves himself in class, and his scores are high.

These are two kids who have been talked about for years, teachers rolling their eyes and shrugging their shoulders while the kids tease them and laugh at them. They look for affirmation in any way that they can get it – and in turn have turned themselves into the perfect victims. But this year, as a result of circumstance, they have found themselves in classes which give them the opportunity to shine. And it’s amazing how they do. Makes you wonder about the other 300 students in the school, and what they would do if only they had the chance.