-_-_-_-
Mr. McDouglass finished grading Stinky Peterson's paper and smiled when he saw the next one; Phoebe Hyerdahl was the best student he'd had in well over fifteen years and he always saved her papers for last. A smart young girl who aspired to be a neurologist, he was sure she'd go far, and sometimes he wished he had a little more time to work with her, but she was a senior, and as with all seniors it was tough if you got attached to them. Usually they left with promises to keep in touch over the years, but they never would. He understood that they had lives to live and couldn't worry about an old high school teacher, but it would be nice to hear from the good ones.
He adjusted his reading glasses and peered down at the title. The students in his Justice and Law course were to write about any form of crime they wanted, so of course he recieved some crummy ones about shop lifting or plagiarism which were usually plagiarised themselves but now and then he would get one hell of a good one, and he hoped that would be Phoebe's. Her topic of choice was Psychological Maltreatment.
"Pyschological Maltreatment
by Phoebe Hyerdahl"
There, that was a perfect example of why she was his favorite student. Most of the time students, even the good ones, would waste words by writing the date, the period, his own name, the horoscope. Whatever took up those extra three words they needed. Phoebe never did that. She wrote because she was interested in what she was writing, not in the class period or room number. She was one of the really good ones.
"Pyschological maltreatment, by definition, is a form of abuse when an individual is neglected by those around him. The neglect causes this person to have flaws in their personality, which people assume is their own fault. This assumption is untrue because an individual's personality is formed by the people surrounding him, the people who influence him. Being ignored and shoved to the side for a lifetime can cause some dangerous problems which hurts the individual's mental and emotional development. Pyschological maltreatment is the most common form of child abuse and affects more than just the person being abused. I speak from experience; my best friend Helga Pataki was subject to this hurtful behavior. Helga was a beautiful person, who was creative and intelligent. When she wrote she was able to work miracles. She liked to act, and she did for most of her life. She played the classic bully of our grade. She used this mask for two reasons, the main one being that she loved a boy and was too embarassed to let him know but the other was as an outlet for all the negative emotions she received from her parents. Her parents ignored her and belittled her while praising her older sister. Her father wanted a boy instead of Helga and her mother was just irresponsible. Helga grew up trying to please her parents; she was surrounded by medals, trophies, and pictures of her older sister and developed a competetive nature. She tried as hard as she could to get their attention but she could never outshine Olga. By second grade Helga was calling her parents by their first names because she knew it would anger her father, and give her the attention she wanted. I can't count the number of times that I saw Helga walking home from soccer practise because her mother had forgot to pick her up. I always kept a few dollars in my pocket in third grade because Helga's mother would forget to pack her lunch, or pack her something inedible, an empty thermos and a spoon for example. She never liked to show her emotions, and I never saw her cry though she must have, living in such a house. She became sarcastic and rude to deal with her inner hurt. When Mrs. Pataki didn't make her a lunch, Helga would laugh and and tell our classmate Sid to tally it up. She kept a running count. I don't know the exact number but I remember that it was incredibly high. She would make a joke about it and set everyone laughing but I could see pain in her eyes and usually slipped her a dollar or two for lunch money. I know that there never was much food in her home, but not through lack of money. It was more of a lack of motivation to go shopping on her mother's part, Helga usually came over my house for dinner, and when she came she would be polite and nice. She would try and spend as much time at my house as she could before she would inevitably have to return to her empty home. I remember once hearing her father call for Olga instead of Helga and I was shocked. She was used to it though, and would yell back, "Its Helga, Dad." There were times when her family came together, there were times when they remembered her name and times when they told her they loved her. Unfortunately those times were too few and Helga Pataki committed suicide last summer. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I had known that she was suffering so much. What would've happened if I had seen the pain that she hid from everyone, including me, her best friend of ten years. I think about it and I decide I couldn't have helped, I couldn't have helped her deal with her pain. I decide that Helga Pataki was not meant for this world. I believe that Psychological Maltreatment is a terrible crime, and should be prevented by any means possible."
Mr. McDouglass took off his glasses and wiped away the moisture that was seeping from his eyes and shakily uncapped his red pen. He couldn't give it a 100 although he would've liked to, but he thought a 98 would do. Besides, if he gave her a 100 she'd have nothing to work for. He was about to put her paper into his briefcase with the rest of them when he noticed a little note on the bottom of the paper, in Phoebe's neat handwriting.
"p.s.- If you think this is a well written paper, you would've loved to see some of Helga's work."
The old teacher smiled before putting his briefcase on his desk and walking to his bedroom to take a nap. He was glad he'd read her paper last.
Mr. McDouglass finished grading Stinky Peterson's paper and smiled when he saw the next one; Phoebe Hyerdahl was the best student he'd had in well over fifteen years and he always saved her papers for last. A smart young girl who aspired to be a neurologist, he was sure she'd go far, and sometimes he wished he had a little more time to work with her, but she was a senior, and as with all seniors it was tough if you got attached to them. Usually they left with promises to keep in touch over the years, but they never would. He understood that they had lives to live and couldn't worry about an old high school teacher, but it would be nice to hear from the good ones.
He adjusted his reading glasses and peered down at the title. The students in his Justice and Law course were to write about any form of crime they wanted, so of course he recieved some crummy ones about shop lifting or plagiarism which were usually plagiarised themselves but now and then he would get one hell of a good one, and he hoped that would be Phoebe's. Her topic of choice was Psychological Maltreatment.
"Pyschological Maltreatment
by Phoebe Hyerdahl"
There, that was a perfect example of why she was his favorite student. Most of the time students, even the good ones, would waste words by writing the date, the period, his own name, the horoscope. Whatever took up those extra three words they needed. Phoebe never did that. She wrote because she was interested in what she was writing, not in the class period or room number. She was one of the really good ones.
"Pyschological maltreatment, by definition, is a form of abuse when an individual is neglected by those around him. The neglect causes this person to have flaws in their personality, which people assume is their own fault. This assumption is untrue because an individual's personality is formed by the people surrounding him, the people who influence him. Being ignored and shoved to the side for a lifetime can cause some dangerous problems which hurts the individual's mental and emotional development. Pyschological maltreatment is the most common form of child abuse and affects more than just the person being abused. I speak from experience; my best friend Helga Pataki was subject to this hurtful behavior. Helga was a beautiful person, who was creative and intelligent. When she wrote she was able to work miracles. She liked to act, and she did for most of her life. She played the classic bully of our grade. She used this mask for two reasons, the main one being that she loved a boy and was too embarassed to let him know but the other was as an outlet for all the negative emotions she received from her parents. Her parents ignored her and belittled her while praising her older sister. Her father wanted a boy instead of Helga and her mother was just irresponsible. Helga grew up trying to please her parents; she was surrounded by medals, trophies, and pictures of her older sister and developed a competetive nature. She tried as hard as she could to get their attention but she could never outshine Olga. By second grade Helga was calling her parents by their first names because she knew it would anger her father, and give her the attention she wanted. I can't count the number of times that I saw Helga walking home from soccer practise because her mother had forgot to pick her up. I always kept a few dollars in my pocket in third grade because Helga's mother would forget to pack her lunch, or pack her something inedible, an empty thermos and a spoon for example. She never liked to show her emotions, and I never saw her cry though she must have, living in such a house. She became sarcastic and rude to deal with her inner hurt. When Mrs. Pataki didn't make her a lunch, Helga would laugh and and tell our classmate Sid to tally it up. She kept a running count. I don't know the exact number but I remember that it was incredibly high. She would make a joke about it and set everyone laughing but I could see pain in her eyes and usually slipped her a dollar or two for lunch money. I know that there never was much food in her home, but not through lack of money. It was more of a lack of motivation to go shopping on her mother's part, Helga usually came over my house for dinner, and when she came she would be polite and nice. She would try and spend as much time at my house as she could before she would inevitably have to return to her empty home. I remember once hearing her father call for Olga instead of Helga and I was shocked. She was used to it though, and would yell back, "Its Helga, Dad." There were times when her family came together, there were times when they remembered her name and times when they told her they loved her. Unfortunately those times were too few and Helga Pataki committed suicide last summer. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I had known that she was suffering so much. What would've happened if I had seen the pain that she hid from everyone, including me, her best friend of ten years. I think about it and I decide I couldn't have helped, I couldn't have helped her deal with her pain. I decide that Helga Pataki was not meant for this world. I believe that Psychological Maltreatment is a terrible crime, and should be prevented by any means possible."
Mr. McDouglass took off his glasses and wiped away the moisture that was seeping from his eyes and shakily uncapped his red pen. He couldn't give it a 100 although he would've liked to, but he thought a 98 would do. Besides, if he gave her a 100 she'd have nothing to work for. He was about to put her paper into his briefcase with the rest of them when he noticed a little note on the bottom of the paper, in Phoebe's neat handwriting.
"p.s.- If you think this is a well written paper, you would've loved to see some of Helga's work."
The old teacher smiled before putting his briefcase on his desk and walking to his bedroom to take a nap. He was glad he'd read her paper last.
