Knowledge is... power?

Tonight is my English Lit class. I really enjoy this class. To the point that I no longer regret dropping my only other class, because that freedom has really allowed me to absorb and appreciate the only class I am taking.

But, truthfully, as with most things in my life, the thing I enjoy the most is the camaraderie. I like many of my classmates and enjoy the discussions that we have as a class. Most nights before class we are all trapped in the hall waiting for the previous class to let out. Generally, the topics of discussion will center around the story we were required to read for that class and what sorts of things we think the teacher will ask on our little quiz. And our basic opinions about the story. My buddy from class, Bill, generally will never like the things I like and will love the things I hate. I have grown used to this dynamic, and we were generally kid around quite a bit about this.

Bill is actually one of the reasons that I signed up for this class on this particular night. Bill was in my 111 class and had experienced the horror that was my "teacher" in that class. I really wanted to take 112 with someone who had gone through this experience, but almost all of my classmates from 111 were so burned by this dreadful "teacher" that they didn't want to take any other English class again for quite some time. But, Bill is going to be an English major, so wanted to keep rolling. I thought Bill was a pretty cool guy, laid back with a similar sardonic sense of humor to my own. This has remained true, but tonight I learned something of the dark side of Bill.

It started innocently enough. The group was outside class as usual, in our various "cliques", and we were just chatting about the stories for the evening. Somehow I brought up Napoleon Dynamite and was expounding on just how much I loved the movie. I told Bill this would be a sure sign that he wouldn't like it. I was explaining about how it was the story of a high school outcast and his various ups and downs. I said that if you were an outcast in high school, Napoleon was so far out there that he would probably make you think you were cool. Bill said this reminded him of this guy Arnold he knew in school, and then he laughingly (!) recounted the story of the time that he and his friends had covered Arnold in duct tape and thrown him in a dumpster.

Thrown him in a dumpster covered in duct tape?!

Another classmate Robert and I were horrified. We seemed to be waiting for Bill to tell us he was kidding and pretending to be Andrew from The Breakfast Club. Maybe this is where they got the idea?? But, Bill was oblivious (at first) to our horror. Said it was hilarious. Particularly because Arnold was so hairy.

Particularly because Arnold was so hairy?!

Robert and I asked about Arnold. This was awful, we said. Was he okay? Bill didn't know what happened to Arnold. But, it was funny -- you had to be there, he said. Did Arnold think it was funny? we asked. Bill (never the quickest draw in the west) is starting to realize how horrified we are. He says he was only 15 -- does this somehow make up for that?! If you're 15, it is then okay to tape someone with duct tape and throw them in a dumpster?

I wish I didn't know this about Bill. I don't like knowing it. This knowledge changes everything. Bill hasn't been on my top ten list in a while, but I didn't really hate him.

But, now I think I hate Bill. I think I want to cover him in duct tape and throw him in a dumpster.

I sit behind him in class, I can verify that he's pretty hairy. Maybe then he would understand how Arnold felt.

I was no Arnold or Napoleon, but I certainly wasn't cool and people definitely thought I was a little odd. (Not that they still don't, but as you know this is much different when you are an adult. Now, I'm just quirky.)

I wish I knew what happened to Arnold. I'm worried about him. Do you wonder how much he thinks about that? Do you wonder how something like that changed his life? To always suspect that people think you're a little weird is one thing, to have them affirm it by covering you in duct tape and throwing you in a dumpster. Well, that's just something else, isn't it?