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The summer before fifth grade, my world was turned upside down when my family moved from the country town where I was born and raised to a town near the beach. When school began, I found it difficult to be accepted by the kids in my class who seemed a little more sophisticated, and who had been in the same class together since first grade.
I also found this Catholic school different from the public school I had attended. At my old school, it was acceptable to express yourself to the teacher. Here, it was considered outrageous1 to even suggest a change be made in the way things were done.
My mom taught me that if I wanted something in life, I had to speak up or figure out a way to make it happen. No one was going to do it for me. It was up to me to control my destiny.
I quickly learned that my classmates were totally intimidated2 by the strict Irish nuns4 who ran the school. My schoolmates were so afraid of the nuns’ wrath5 that they rarely spoke6 up for themselves or suggested a change.
Not only were the nuns intimidating7, they also had some strange habits. The previous year, my classmates had been taught by a nun3 named Sister Rose. This year, she came to our class to teach music several times a week. During their year with her, she had earned the nickname Pick-Her-Nose-Rose. My classmates swore that during silent reading, she’d prop8 her book up so that she could have herself a booger-picking session without her students noticing. The worst of it, they told me, was that after reading was over, she’d stroll through the classroom and select a victim whose hair would be the recipient9 of one of her prize boogers. She’d pretend to be praising one of her students by rubbing her long, bony fingers through their hair! Well, to say the least, I did not look forward to her sort of praise.
One day during music, I announced to Sister Rose that the key of the song we were learning was too high for our voices. Every kid in the class turned toward me with wide eyes and looks of total disbelief. I had spoken my opinion to a teacher― - one of the Irish nuns!
That was the day I gained acceptance with the class. Whenever they wanted something changed, they’d beg me to stick up for them. I was willing to take the punishment for the possibility of making a situation better and of course to avoid any special attention from Pick-Her-Nose-Rose. But I also knew that I was being used by my classmates who just couldn’t find their voices and stick up for themselves.
Things pretty much continued like this through sixth and seventh grades. Although we changed teachers, we stayed in the same class together and I remained the voice of the class.
At last, eighth grade rolled around and one early fall morning our new teacher, Mrs. Haggard― - not a nun, but strict nevertheless― - announced that we would be holding elections for class representatives. I was elected Vice10 President.
That same day, while responding to a fire drill, the new president and I were excitedly discussing our victory when, suddenly, Mrs. Haggard appeared before us with her hands on her hips11. The words that came out of her mouth left me surprised and confused. “You’re impeached12!” she shouted at the two of us. My first reaction was to burst out laughing because I had no idea what the word “impeached” meant. When she explained that we were out of office for talking during a fire drill, I was devastated13.
Our class held elections again at the beginning of the second semester. This time, I was elected president, which I took as a personal victory. I was more determined14 than ever to represent the rights of my oppressed classmates.
My big opportunity came in late spring. One day, the kids from the other eighth grade class were arriving at school in “free dress,” wearing their coolest new outfits15, while our class arrived in our usual uniforms: the girls in their pleated wool skirts and the boys in their salt and pepper pants. “How in the world did this happen?” we all wanted to know. One of the eighth graders from the other class explained that their teacher got permission from our principal, Sister Anna, as a special treat for her students.
We were so upset that we made a pact16 to go in and let our teacher know that we felt totally ripped off. We agreed that when she inevitably17 gave us what had become known to us as her famous line, “If you don’t like it, you can leave,” we’d finally do it. We’d walk out together.
Once in the classroom, I raised my hand and stood up to speak to our teacher. About eight others rose to show their support. I explained how betrayed we felt as the seniors of the school to find the other eighth graders in free dress while we had to spend the day in our dorky uniforms. We wanted to know why she hadn’t spoken on our behalf and made sure that we weren’t left out of this privilege.
As expected, instead of showing sympathy for our humiliation18, she fed us her famous line, “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” One by one, each of my classmates shrank slowly back into their seats. Within seconds, I was the only one left standing19.
I began walking out of the classroom, and Mrs. Haggard commanded that I continue on to the principal’s office. Sister Anna, surprised to see me in her office so soon after school had begun, asked me to explain why I was there. I told her that as class president, I had an obligation to my classmates to represent them. I was given the option to leave if I didn’t like the way things were, so I did. I believed that it would have been a lie for me to sit back down at that point.
She walked me back to class and asked Mrs. Haggard to tell her version of the situation. Mrs. Haggard’s side seemed to be different from what the class had witnessed. Then something incredible happened. Some of my classmates began shouting protests from their desks in response to Mrs. Haggard’s comments. “That’s not true,” they countered. “She never said that,” they protested.
It was too much of a stretch for them to stand up and walk out with me that day, but I knew something had clicked inside of them. At least they finally spoke up.
Perhaps they felt that they owed me. Or they realized that we’d soon be at different high schools and I wouldn’t be there to stick up for them anymore. I’d rather believe that when they spoke up that day, they had finally chosen to take control of their own destinies.
I can still hear their voices.
点击收听单词发音
1 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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2 intimidated | |
v.恐吓;威胁adj.害怕的;受到威胁的 | |
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3 nun | |
n.修女,尼姑 | |
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4 nuns | |
n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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5 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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6 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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7 intimidating | |
vt.恐吓,威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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8 prop | |
vt.支撑;n.支柱,支撑物;支持者,靠山 | |
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9 recipient | |
a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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10 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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11 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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12 impeached | |
v.控告(某人)犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 );弹劾;对(某事物)怀疑;提出异议 | |
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13 devastated | |
v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词);摧毁;毁灭;在感情上(精神上、财务上等)压垮adj.毁坏的;极为震惊的 | |
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14 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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15 outfits | |
n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 );一套服装;集体;组织v.装备,配置设备,供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 pact | |
n.合同,条约,公约,协定 | |
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17 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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18 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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19 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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