Cornered


It was raining at lunchtime, so I got a pass to go to the library. Indoor recess in the gym was always noisy and confused, and the library was always just the opposite.

I went to a table near the back wall to do my math homework. I was whipping through the sixth problem when a voice said, "Hiro?"

I jumped a mile. I hadn't heard Mrs. Jensen come up behind me. She smiled and said, "Sorry to startle you. Sometimes this carpet is almost too quiet. May I talk with you over at the front desk?"

"Sure," I said, and I got up and followed her.

She said, "Back here," and she motioned behind the desk to the long work counter. "I want you to read something I printed out yesterday." Then she handed me ten or fifteen pieces of paper that were stapled together.

I knew instantly. I knew what I was holding. I pretended to read the first sheet, but I hardly saw the words. My thinking had kicked up into overdrive. I was in trouble. I needed a way out. I needed a major distraction, something like a fire drill, or maybe an earthquake.

It took a lot of effort not to start breathing fast, and I was afraid my cheeks would turn bright red. I turned to the second page and then the third, barely reading, just stalling for time.

Finally I had to say something, so I said, "It looks like a list."

Mrs. Jensen said, "Turn to page five, Hiro, and read some of the entries out loud, but please keep your voice down."

I skipped ahead and started to read. "'STAR Test Internet Registration home page; Issues in light wave theory; JaneGoodall home page; Fuel cell technology comes of age; Hybrid vehicles find new homes; Cold fusion anomalies; Field Museum Egyptology Department; Richard Feynman's lecture on-'"

Mrs. Jensen interrupted and said, "Thank you, Hiro. That's enough. Can you tell me what you've been reading?"

"Something from the computer, right?" I looked into her face.

She wasn't buying my innocent act. Not even a little bit.

Mrs. Jensen shook her head. "It's more like something from your computer, Hiro. More precisely, that information is stored under your login account on the library's main server. When I began to back up the system yesterday afternoon, one computer was still active, the one in the corner. I went to shut it down, but something on the Internet browser caught my eye, something about the STAR tests. I didn't remember any teachers using that computer, so I checked the login name, and it was you, Hiro. You forgot to log out when you went to the meeting in Mrs. Harford's office. I know you might think I was prying, but it's part of my job to monitor the Internet activity of all student accounts. So I looked around a little."

Mrs. Jensen looked me right in the eye. She said, "What you're holding there are the first thirteen pages of a 159-page document that lists the Web pages you have visited or accessed since the beginning of this school year. Your files are using five gigabytes of storage space on the server. Do you know what that means, Hiro? I think you do, but I'll tell you anyway. It means that so far this school year you have gathered more information for access and retrieval than all the rest of the fourth- and fifth-grade students combined. Just glancing through the Web pages of the links you have in your hands there, it appears that you have done extensive research on alternative energy sources; you have been trading e-mails with a primate expert at the Jane Goodall Institute; you have keen interest in educational theory; and apparently you have been enrolled in a college-level astronomy course over the Internet at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology."

Again she paused. Then, speaking slowly, Mrs. Jensen said, "But the most interesting thing to me is the fact that you are the child who failed his basic Internet research project three weeks ago, and therefore got a D in library skills. So, Hiro. How should I be thinking about all this new information?"

Mrs. Jensen had me. I was trapped.

When an animal gets backed into a corner, zoologists say the animal will usually choose one of three instinctive responses. But I've never considered myself an animal. I wasn't going to fight, or run away, or play dead. This was not the time for instincts. I had to think myself out of this corner.

It's not a coincidence that cartoons show an idea as a light bulb. Because when an idea hits, it feels like someone has flipped a big switch.

And an idea blasted me, right there in front of Mrs. Jensen, instant light. Yes, I was certainly in a corner. But it wasn't a small corner, and I didn't really have to get out of it. There was plenty of room in the corner for someone to join me.

In fact, I decided that it actually might be good to have someone else in my corner.


Review Replies:

Iron Rose Writer - The problem with school is that it only judges you on your "book smarts", what Hiro's good at, not anything else. A person could have great people skills but sucks at math or reading. Some people work as hard as the can, study until they can't stay awake, and still fail because they just see t aren't book smart. - I know, that is defiantly the problem. It isn't fair. Schools shouldn't do that. But they do.

firelass19 - Dat squirel tho... that's so fudging cruel (doesn't help that I'm a vegetarian). But I see that symbolism (lol, the one thing I learned in English class XD)! Also, that Lucy... she's got a good eye :P - I know. Doesn't exactly make me feel proud to be a human either. And Lucy does have a good eye.

celrock - Another good chapter and it's sweet of Lucy to offer to help Hero bring up his grades. Anyway, keep up the great writing, look forward to reading more of this when it's available! - Thanks!

Fluttershy127 - Will thy ever find out his a genies? Looking forward to next chapter :-) - I don't know, I guess you'll just have to wait and see. :)


Thanks for reading!

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