Chapter 12: Hidden Humanity (an excerpt from my novel in progress)

It took me several minutes to gather my thoughts. I took a deep breath and kept telling myself that I would be able to comfort the students. I’d find a way somehow. Kathleen would know what to do; she always had the answers. I pressed my lips together and quickly ran trembling fingers through my knotted hair. Once I swallowed the lump in my throat, I urged myself back to the classroom.
Kathleen was already sitting in between Kyle and Jasmine with a number of students. Her blue eyes were droopy, and her mouth was set in a firm line as she motioned for me to join them.
“Sit here,” Jamie said, patting the chair next to him. I didn’t say anything; my thoughts were already teasing the borders of unconquered fears. I couldn’t imagine Jamie’s response to the lesson. My jaw clenched, and I curled my hands into fists so Kathleen couldn’t see my fingers twitching. Misunderstanding my reaction, Jamie added softly, “please.” The two hazel pools which matched mine entirely carried a tentative but also pleading expression. Before I could speak, the anxious teenage boy began to rock his body back and forth in his plastic chair, a compulsive motion that usually soothed him.
I forced a smile, acquiesced, and found my seat. Jasmine was on my right side. Within seconds, she linked her arm through mine and rested her head against my shoulder. I could feel the brace on one of her legs pressed against my own leg. She glanced up at me with her small, porcelain face and smiled.
Before I asked what the plan was, Kathleen dragged herself out of her chair and shuffled over to the Smart Board at the front of the classroom. My heart plummeted as if I’d tossed myself out of a building when I realized that Kathleen and I were on our own for the lesson.
There were no unoccupied teachers who could assist us. With flushed cheeks, I observed Kathleen. She shouldn’t do this presentation alone. With a start, I darted toward the front of the large room to step beside the slender girl. I caught a faint smile on her lips as she nodded at me with relief.
Wetting her lips, Kathleen took a shuddering breath and said, “as you all likely know, today is Remembrance Day. It’s a day of sorrow, love, appreciation, and, most significantly, remembrance. In the twentieth century, men and women of all nationalities and ages – though most were quite young – came together to fight for our country, Canada. It was –”
“Why?” Jamie interrupted, his head tilted to the side with utter confusion as wrinkles formed on his forehead and his brows furrowed. A sudden pang pinched the depths of my stomach. His eyes demanded an answer from me.
Taken aback, I stood stock still for several seconds, grappling for the right words, until suddenly, they struck me like lightning: “Sometimes people don’t get along, and people have to fight to save what they believe in, Jamie. Usually disagreements can be settled peacefully, but sometimes there’s no easy answer. When people become angry and feel threatened, they attack and struggle for something to hold onto – often their families.” The words seemed to flow from my lips like a fountain, the sentences coming together of their own accord. I had no idea where they came from. I looked at Jamie to measure his reaction. His eyes were vacant, as though he had escaped to a secret place.
Kathleen glanced at me and continued speaking hesitantly. “It was both the most terrifying and extraordinary event the world had ever seen. People were ripped away from their homes and families, and, at the same time, people came together. People worked toward mutual goals while confirming their belief as a nation.” Kathleen paused, fidgeted with her ponytail, and gazed at the high school students to see if they were attentive.
Curious, I dragged my eyes across the sea of faces. Most of the students were staring blankly ahead. However, I did think that a few students, such as Kyle, had some grasp of the concept. Peering closely at the boy, I found his lips pursed into an “O” shape. He characteristically slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and moved closer to his friend, Jasmine. There was no way to know if what Kathleen was saying had sunk meaningfully into the students’ minds.
Kathleen released a shaky cough and then continued, “Mrs. Bailey gave us a video for you to watch. The tape shows people’s experiences of war. I know it’s scary, so if you feel upset you may leave the room. You won’t get into trouble.”
I felt my jaw drop. A video? I prayed silently that it wasn’t the one we watched every year in the gymnasium, because that video was graphic and intense. More often than not, I wiped away the tears falling down with the bodies on the screen. I couldn’t take the blood. The way the liquid shot out, so uncontrollably quickly. Fear crawled up and down my back as sweat saturated my skin. At the sight of the men and women racing forward amid the flying bullets, I doubled over. It was as if I was there, living the moment alongside them. My heart also became a bright pulsing flame that refused to be smothered by the onslaught of pandemonium.
My body quaked, but there was nothing I could do or say. For all I knew, it could be a different film. I hoped it was toned-down. Perhaps the barriers of light and time created by the video would prevent the students from forming an emotional connection. However, images were a lot more vivid than spoken words. Words could be ignored, but pictures were always in
people’s faces, screaming for attention, and often people couldn’t look away.
The images erupted across the Smart Board. I took a seat next to Jamie and sucked in a breath. Shots rang out as soldiers plodded forward through the sludge. Their bodies were covered with debris as they hurtled over severed limbs which lay dead on the ground. Friends leaped in front of each other, taking bullets that seared through their skin like white-hot fire as blood spilled out in streams. The sky poured tears of despair. One after another, people fell like broken angels. Their bodies twitched until they remained motionless. The dead were blown apart by bombshells. Their bodies smacked hard against the soldiers behind them. People clutched at their bodies and prayed that the blood drenching their clothes wasn’t their own.
The flashing glare threw ghastly images across the walls of the classroom as the startling sounds from the speakers exploded inside my ears. I pulled my eyes away from the Smart Board to squeeze them shut as I tried to calm down. When I finally dared to open my eyes again, my breath hitched in my throat as if a bullet was lodged inside. I could feel my mouth open as my eyes widened. Jamie gazed on at the screen with an understanding I could hardly comprehend. The images fixated his gaze. Every shot from the guns reflected in his hazel eyes as they shrunk at the sound. His body jerked back as though he was struck. The film’s depictions were invading the room as if the soldiers had pushed through the thin screen to enter the present.
I didn’t want to believe he could grasp the reality that people were dying before his eyes, because I didn’t want him to be hurt. But the truth was as clear as an empty glass. He understood it all. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t brush them away. Instead, he spoke: “Dying –” he said. His voice cracked. “People fighting – it’s sad.” He wasn’t looking at me while he spoke. His gaze remained ensnared by the flickering black-and-white screen.

I cried soundlessly. I’d realized that I could cry. It was okay, because the people around me also understood. Although the others weren’t crying, I could see the despair on their faces. Their eyes trembled like pulsing seas. Isn’t it human nature to cry when your own kind are being killed? These people – students with disabilities – seemed to be more attentive to their own feelings than the teenagers in the mainstream student body. Maybe they were less intellectually inclined and perhaps they were physically less capable, but what did that matter in the grand scheme of life? Mrs. Maureen had been right. There was so much we could learn from people who faced difficulties in their lives.
I often hear the saying that humans are the greatest beings on planet Earth. We’re supposed to be such incredible creatures, because we can actually communicate through language. What is the point of us having tongues if we don’t convey what gnaws inside us?
Yet, among these dark thoughts, there was a fervent light peeking at me – Jamie. The boy’s bright eyes were glassy with the enormity of what he’d witnessed. His head shook slightly, almost as though he wanted to forget. I reached out my hand to his and he curled his shaking fingers tightly around mine with a grim, almost imperceptible nod.