Response Letter To The Crucible

Shireen Wissa

The Authentic and the Imposter

Pseudo

“Shireen, where is your book?”

“I don’t have it.”

“Oh, you don’t have it. Get up, walk to the end of the classroom. That’s right, now turn around, face the wall, and stay there until the period ends,” Ms. Angel, my third grade teacher said with a straight face, enunciating every word slowly. Frozen, the class, all girls, watched in silence and suspense as I walked the shameful path. Another poor soul that was absorbed into her Bermuda triangle; the triangle that regularly consumed the tears and despair of many students before me.

Mind you, I was a straight A student; this has never happened to me before. Also, keep in mind, this is happening because I forgot a book, not for failing an exam or, heaven forbid, being impolite. A few crystal beads tumbled down when they

Angel again, in second grade. In the same cold, hard voice, in front of the entire class, she had expressed his discontentment with my choice of people to hang out with that day. I was sitting next to a group of less than stellar students in class. My interactions with them were rare, if not nonexistent, before that time. Candidly, I didn’t know much about them. I was naive and didn’t realize that I was being pulled into a deep abyss of nonchalance and ignorance and those students were the culprits. Shell-shocked, I obeyed blindly.

If I had went against her advice, I would probably be a different person today. Although she was a stranger, her suggestion that had embarrassed me in class helped me leave behind the troublemakers and seek people who had work ethics that matched mine. This is almost tough love because she meant well, but her implementation lacked empathy. She wanted to change my conduct to choosing better friends, but did not pick the discreet and gentle way to do