Sunday, October 25, 2009

Frustrated

The text message went thus: "I'm over this place. I just did a project which confirmed my frustrations with the people."
It was a simple statement. Something said out of frustration. We've all been frustrated. We've all said and thought fucked up things, we've generalized and buried our hard heads into our soft hands. But the sub-text gave me the emotional equivalent of the moment when you know you'll vomit, when your salivary glands keep producing thin clear spit and you feel sweaty and nauseous. Its the subtleties that sadden me. Not the people at his workplace, not the people who worked on the project, but he referenced the people. Them. His patience has spoiled and curdled and so he'll leave bitter, not angry at any one in particular, just those people; all of them. The world around him has been condensed and abridged into a low quality product for his convenience, like Ri-Coffi or Nescafe. For some, its better to just leave, and never come back.
It makes me think back to the benevolent teachers at WPHS, my high school. Some of the teachers would sit back and read the newspaper and tell you they got paid whether you learned or not. Some were optimistic and white. They were from Culver City or Santa Monica and they came to teach math or English because they wanted to make a difference. They would be like Hilary Swank and Michelle Phieffer in those movies, you know the ones. They hoped to make such a difference and have a profound influence but they inevitably left after a year or two. They left angry; chased away by our obstinate ignorance and our ingrained attitudes and un-motivations. These benevolent teachers tried to help us and we didn't appreciate their efforts, and so they went back to Lockhead Martin or to their advertising jobs and re-diffused into their white privilege. They remember their time at WPHS with spite and don't understand why those people, those terrible, terrible kids wouldn't let themselves be helped by qualified professionals who'd given up so much to teach there.
What they failed to understand was that in general, we had an ingrained hatred of fair weather friends who wanted to help us to make themselves feel benevolent and giving. If they didn't understand that, understand that we didn't appreciate them 'slumming it' to make themselves feel good, then it was better for them to leave and never come back. So when I joined the Peace Corps I kept my high school English teacher in mind, the old white guy who taught at my sketchy high school. He never lowered the bar, never took my bullshit, never gave up on me or any of us even though I half assed everything and consequently failed his AP test because of my laziness. He had the measured patience and understanding of a Peace Corps Volunteer because he had been a Peace Corps Volunteer. He was different from the others, he focused on what we could be, not what we were at the time and not what everyone believed we would be.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

beautiful, illustrative, and insightful.

Salewa said...

Your words are so poetic. I really appreciate the imagery of everything. It is like i am reading novel and i am awaiting the next chapter. I am new 2010 volunteer and look forward all the blessing and the frustrations ahead. Thanks for sharing!