So close to losing my dream

Well, maybe not losing it - but being unbelievably close to destroying it forever. Today has been one of the most terrifying, future-threatening days in a long time.

The P.E. fiasco finally reached my guidance counselors’ desks and they called me into their office Monday morning, only to tell me to contact my P.E. teacher immediately and try to settle things because the way things stood, I wouldn’t be able to graduate. If I failed P.E. because I never showed up for it, I wouldn’t qualify to even try to graduate - no matter how excellent all my other grades were.

On Monday morning, I only had one P.E. lesson left before all the grading/term paper conferences went down and my P.E. teacher was nowhere to be found. I needed to talk to him badly but he had evidently vanished. Which is ironic because I couldn’t tell you how many times I have bumped into him at the grocery store or after Biology class when I was really just trying to get home as soon as possible. And I always avoided his gaze the best I possibly could.

Fast forward to Wednesday after school. I still hadn’t found him but since I have P.E. scheduled for Wednesday afternoons and needed to talk to him before this last potential chance of making things right, I waited around and sure enough - there he was.

Now, I wish this story was a little sexier and involved the lovable, hunky P.E. teacher Mr. M - don’t we all? - but sorry. No Mr. M. Just a seriously pissed off Mr. S - ready to listen to what I had to say for myself, yet mad and unyielding.

I stuttered and my heart beat like crazy because this was more serious than I ever thought it would become. This pissed off P.E. teacher literally held my future in his hands and as he opened his grading book and looked me up and told me that YOU MISSED EACH AND EVERY CLASS, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GIVE YOU ANY GRADE AT ALL? I felt like crying. I was so disappointed in myself, so angry and fed up with my stupid lazyness, so annoyed by a system that won’t let you graduate just because you failed one fucking class in thirteen years of school. And I wondered why, for the love of God, I just hadn’t gone to every other P.E. class and called it a day.

Instead, my P.E. teacher suggested that I should come to class in the afternoon and he’d special test me. He said not to expect too much from it but to give it a try and WHAT DID I HAVE TO LOSE, ANYWAY?

Good point.

So I went home and cried. And cried and cried. I couldn’t rememeber when I had cried the last time and it felt good to hide in the bathroom and watch the tears fall, watch the color of my eyes change from average dark blue to that funky greenish ocean color. Yet, I felt sick in my stomach and for the first time in forever I couldn’t force myself to eat anything.

I remembered that there was some weird Vodka mix left over from New Year’s and I considered giving it a try. I didn’t feel able to take this pressure, to be special tested in sports - of all things! - to face the other kids in class, to come crawling back after half a year.

But somehow that threatening possibility of not being able to graduate high school and consequently not being able to attend university - no Maastricht, no moving to my own place, no international life, no good education, no future - scared me so much that I became incredibly calm.

And so I went to P.E. at 3.30 in the afternoon, walked through the blasting storms outside to face the music and fucking dance. It’s not like I actually had a real choice but I was surprised at how strong and together I felt while I was walking over to school.

Fast forward again, skip all the awkwardness when I walked into the gym and everybody looked at me like I was a leper and how I didn’t have anybody to pair up with for all the tests. At the end of class I felt nervous and unsettled. I didn’t know what to expect from Mr. S because the tests hadn’t been as challenging as I had thought and so I couldn’t imagine that the results were going to change my final grade at all.

Then, he said what may be the most important words I’ll ever hear on my journey through schooling life: I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU THE WORST GRADE POSSIBLE BUT I WONT MAKE YOU FAIL THIS CLASS. He explained that he couldn’t do more than that, he almost aplogized - but I didn’t even listen anymore.

I still have to talk to my guidance couselors about all the missed classes because those are all unexcused absences.

But, damn, I am so relieved. I’m starting to believe in guardian angels again.