Monday, May 11, 2015

A Memoir: The Boy With The Tablet

The Stunned and the Drenched
Before I came to Williamstown, I lived in a city known as Clarkston in east Atlanta, Georgia. Atlanta is different from New Jersey in a lot of ways. One of the biggest differences I’ve noticed in that area was the amount of diverse cultures embraced. Considering nationalities exposed out there, it gave everyone the opportunity to embrace each other’s customs and establish a peaceful environment. On the contrary, it also gave the opportunity for the worst of customs to exposed. 

I was in my nutrition class one afternoon. The school worked on a block schedule, so I had each class for two hours. It wasn't my favorite class, and on top of that it was cloudy and raining outside, so my day was naturally gloomy. My classmates were rowdy by nature, but today made them especially rebellious because we had a substitute teacher. Our regular teacher left us book work to do (of course), but nobody cared to work in that class and decided to do whatever they wanted.
The sub was enraptured in her business on the computer. I had finished doing my work and started messaging my friends with the schools wifi when a group of boys walked in. They were loud and disruptive, but came in to talk to this girl I knew in the class. These were the type of people who made you worried about potentially getting their attention and possibly causing an altercation. After a while, the sub called security on them, and they all thoroughly cursed at her and left.
Whenever there is a sub, students had a tradition of walking out of class early. I normally didn't partake in this tradition, but I was really tired of being in that class so I walked out five minutes before the final bell. About a half the class was in the hall, including this Vietnamese boy who was walking around using a tablet. My school had a reputation of people stealing phones and devices that were out in the open, so it was not a great idea that he brought his tablet there. While I was thinking this, the group of boys came back.
They all surrounded the boy to the point where his back was against the wall. Suddenly, they all began to punch and kick him, while one of the boys took his tablet and ran out the building. When the boy was able to get up and stumble after them to get his device, the largest one of the bunch picked the boy up over his head and slammed him into the concrete. My friend who knew the gang laughed with her other friends and ran off. For a moment I just stood there speechless, not believing everything that had just happened in the past minute.
I ran outside to get the boy, who was curled up in the rain with blood dripping from the gash over his eyebrow. No matter how much I tried, he insisted that leave him there. So I ran back inside to ask the sub for help. She insisted that it was, "not my problem." I left the room infuriated, and went to the nursing classroom across the hall. Fortunately, she agreed to help the boy. I rushed back out to get him, and he was now standing and drenched. I helped him get to the room.
After reporting what happened and ensuring he would be okay, I went home. The girl who was friends with them (and no longer with me) told me not to tell, but I had no valid reason not to help the boy get his belongings back. Honestly, I was flustered from witnessing the altercation, and my mom could tell. When I got home she said, "are you okay?" And that was when I broke down in tears. The thing that bothered me the most was that I didn't try to stop the group of boys due to my shock of it happening. To this day, I wonder if I could have stopped them from doing that somehow, and save the boy from being harmed.

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