The Disappointment Kid (Completed)

12

The very next day found me in Mr Capote's cute little office again. This time I had aggravated the German teacher when I was asked to read out the suspense story which we had been asked to write, using specific vocabulary.

I was quite pleased with my story about a teenage repeat offender with a myriad of family problems, which no one ever addressed, no matter how often he was arrested. Our teacher seemed to like the story, too, until my protagonist was arrested once again, this time by Officers Wenker and Kok. Judging by the laughter, the class thought my story had just gotten really good. Even those whose German was so poor that they had most likely not understood a word of my story woke up and joined in the general amusement.

Mr Grim, appropriately named in more ways than one, however, took exception to my choice of names and wasn't even placated when I pointed out to him that these were perfectly normal German surnames. He insisted on me changing the names. I insisted on my artistic freedom and on my artistic aim as a storyteller to be as authentic as possible. It wasn't exactly my fault that the Germans gave people surnames totally disregarding the sensibilities of the English-speaking world.

"Wenker and Kok are totally normal German names, Mr Capote. I can't believe I'm in trouble now for speaking perfectly good German."

Mr Capote sighed.

"Katherine, I don't speak any German myself, so I cannot judge whether those names are rude or not in German. They certainly sound rude in English. Can't you just change them and we'll all carry on happily with our day?"

"Well, seeing that you've asked me so nicely, I'll apologise and change the names."

Mr Capote beamed.

"That's the spirit, Katherine. Off you go, back to class."

"Bye, Mr Kaput."

Capote's face fell a bit, but he let it go.

* * * * *

Back in class, I apologised to the class profusely and assured the teacher that I had seen the errors of my ways and that I would most definitely change the names of those two police officers if I was allowed to finish my story.

"One police officer grabbed the boy and cuffed him. 'Your name, son?' he asked. "Grim, Dick Grim.'" The sound of Mr Grim breathing in was clearly audible, so I hurried on reading.

"'Officer Fuck, I got a Dick Grim here. Yes, Grim, Dick. Check out his details...'" The class erupted in laughter.

I know, I know, it was a childish thing to do. It was unnecessary and uncalled for. Mr Grim was not a bad teacher. He taught me good German. His lessons weren't necessarily Pixar Studios material, but he never turned up unprepared and many of the things he taught us opened up our minds to a new culture, a different way of looking at things.

So, no, I'm not proud of the way I behaved in those days. And, Mr Grim, Mr Capote, Mrs Griff and all the other teachers I abused, if you read this, please forgive me for showing you up and trying to make you feel inadequate. I sincerely hope that I failed miserably. I know a thing or two about being made to feel inadequate, and I cannot believe that I tried to pass this feeling on to innocent bystanders. My only excuse is that I needed to make a drastic change in those days in order to make it to the next day. Sometimes the fog that clouded my perception of reality was so thick back then that half of the time I didn't know what I was doing. Most often, I didn't even realise I was doing it. So, again, I honestly hope that you can forgive me.

But it was obvious that I was in no conciliatory mood then, though. Back I went to the headmaster, encouraging him with my winning and charming personality to phone my parents yet again.