It’s odd how just a couple of select words can become such a big part of you. Especially words
that make you sound rude, uncouth, and ill-mannered. But yet, such words have completely changed the way I talk and interact with others. I’m talking of course, about swear words. Curse words. You know, the words people yelp after stubbing their toe. The words the angry, and ridiculously intoxicated, sports fan shouts at the T.V when his team is losing. And those words that can get a certain fifth grader into major trouble when he finally gets tired of saying “jerk” and “butt”. Here’s the story of the first time that that fifth grader swore.
As a fifth grader, one doesn’t have much a life outside of class. You go to school, extracurriculars, and occasionally hang out with friends. So when you’re at school and someone tries to disrupt that, it’s quite annoying. Especially during few classes you actually like. Especially when the person doing said disrupting is someone who you just can’t stand.
Let’s call that person Chad for two reasons. The first one being that nobody likes a “Chad”. The second reason is simply because that was his name. Now, Chad was that guy. You know, that person with that incredibly punchable face and nasally voice. The one who just seems to do everything wrong and just is incredibly annoying in every single way possible. Nobody really liked Chad. He was the loner type, putting himself into the self-enforced exile. Chad hated me especially ever since I beat him in some kind of spelling game. So he went out of his way to try and irritate me and make fun of me. This is very important later on it the story, so be sure to keep it in mind.
Now, Chad must’ve had a bad day, as he was being especially irritating today. Maybe someone spat gum in his hair or broke his favorite pencil or something. Whatever it was, the way he acted made it sound like he was hit by a truck as Chad was capital “P” pissed. The entire forty-five minute class time he was just an absolutely jerk to me. The lad grabbed my assignment papers, broke my pencils, splashed water on me, and everything his devious fifth grade mind could think of. I did my best to ignore him, but I was a very angsty little boy and wanted to get back on him, but you know, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of something to do to him.
And suddenly, it hit me. I knew how I could get him back. I prepared myself for the next time Chad would bug me, and I waited.
After two minutes of uninterrupted work time, I felt a pencil poking me in the back. And again. I turned in my seat, looked at him, then paused. I inhaled deeply, filling every nook and cranny of my lungs with air. Then released.
I started screaming every single expletive I knew at Chad, my voice rising higher and higher in pitch as my rant went on. What I said didn’t make any sense at all it was just a string of every swear word I knew. Nouns followed nouns, verbs were describing adjectives, it was just a giant jumble of venom directed towards Chad. The pure hatred coming from my mouth made him slowly wither down into his seat, making him look like the slimy toad he is. After a solid forty-five seconds of my nonstop rant, it ended as abruptly as it start. And then...
Silence.
Not a peep was uttered by anyone for what seemed like an eternity. Then I heard a snicker from the other side of the room. That seemed to break the spell, and soon everyone in the room was laughing uproariously. [strong arm- stephen walking] Everyone except for Chad.
I’d like to think he was in tears after that, but in all honesty, I have no idea what happened. I was yanked into the hallways and into a locker door, colliding with a resounding thud. When I looked behind me, I saw a sight that should’ve terrified my fifth grade self, but for some reason, didn’t. The usually heart-stopping nasty, red, wrinkly face of my middle-aged ACT teacher, looked laughable. Perhaps the extremely close encounter between my face a locker knocked some the last remaining tidbits of sense out of me, or maybe I was just feeling absolutely elated after my outburst of swearing.
Whatever it was, I didn’t hear a single coherent sentence she said; it was just a blur of words and phrases:
“Completely unlike you… Irresponsible…” I did my best not to smile and nodded along,
“Disrespectful… Absolutely intolerable…” A giggle was coming up my throat and I tried thinking of dead puppies to stifle it.
“Never would I… Poor Chad…” This was a lost cause. The moment I heard the words “poor” and “Chad” in a sentence I absolutely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and I was cackling like a madman.
In retrospect, I feel like my teacher must’ve been hard pressed not to do the same thing. Just imagining a prepubescent child angry shouting in close to the seventh octave must’ve been something worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Kudos to you Mrs. Smith for managing to keep a straight face through all this.
There’s something else I always remember about this story. The pencil Chad poked me with. That sharpened graphite tip seemed to channel everything into a point. Like a whip puts all its force into where it strikes, the pencil did the same. All of Chad’s stupid pranks and annoyances from the past ever were behind that pencil. That’s something which stuck with me through all this. [no diggity- kygo]
Through this experience, self-reflection, and a whole load of Watsky poems, I’ve realized that I, as well as others, don’t just swear to sound cool or tough, we do it simply because we can. It gives you a feeling of liberty, to say a taboo word, and not be punished. It allows you to express your point in a way other phrases couldn’t. Who could imagine the words that people associate with the uneducated could be so meaningful and complex?
As a fifth grader, one doesn’t have much a life outside of class. You go to school, extracurriculars, and occasionally hang out with friends. So when you’re at school and someone tries to disrupt that, it’s quite annoying. Especially during few classes you actually like. Especially when the person doing said disrupting is someone who you just can’t stand.
Let’s call that person Chad for two reasons. The first one being that nobody likes a “Chad”. The second reason is simply because that was his name. Now, Chad was that guy. You know, that person with that incredibly punchable face and nasally voice. The one who just seems to do everything wrong and just is incredibly annoying in every single way possible. Nobody really liked Chad. He was the loner type, putting himself into the self-enforced exile. Chad hated me especially ever since I beat him in some kind of spelling game. So he went out of his way to try and irritate me and make fun of me. This is very important later on it the story, so be sure to keep it in mind.
Now, Chad must’ve had a bad day, as he was being especially irritating today. Maybe someone spat gum in his hair or broke his favorite pencil or something. Whatever it was, the way he acted made it sound like he was hit by a truck as Chad was capital “P” pissed. The entire forty-five minute class time he was just an absolutely jerk to me. The lad grabbed my assignment papers, broke my pencils, splashed water on me, and everything his devious fifth grade mind could think of. I did my best to ignore him, but I was a very angsty little boy and wanted to get back on him, but you know, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of something to do to him.
And suddenly, it hit me. I knew how I could get him back. I prepared myself for the next time Chad would bug me, and I waited.
After two minutes of uninterrupted work time, I felt a pencil poking me in the back. And again. I turned in my seat, looked at him, then paused. I inhaled deeply, filling every nook and cranny of my lungs with air. Then released.
I started screaming every single expletive I knew at Chad, my voice rising higher and higher in pitch as my rant went on. What I said didn’t make any sense at all it was just a string of every swear word I knew. Nouns followed nouns, verbs were describing adjectives, it was just a giant jumble of venom directed towards Chad. The pure hatred coming from my mouth made him slowly wither down into his seat, making him look like the slimy toad he is. After a solid forty-five seconds of my nonstop rant, it ended as abruptly as it start. And then...
Silence.
Not a peep was uttered by anyone for what seemed like an eternity. Then I heard a snicker from the other side of the room. That seemed to break the spell, and soon everyone in the room was laughing uproariously. [strong arm- stephen walking] Everyone except for Chad.
I’d like to think he was in tears after that, but in all honesty, I have no idea what happened. I was yanked into the hallways and into a locker door, colliding with a resounding thud. When I looked behind me, I saw a sight that should’ve terrified my fifth grade self, but for some reason, didn’t. The usually heart-stopping nasty, red, wrinkly face of my middle-aged ACT teacher, looked laughable. Perhaps the extremely close encounter between my face a locker knocked some the last remaining tidbits of sense out of me, or maybe I was just feeling absolutely elated after my outburst of swearing.
Whatever it was, I didn’t hear a single coherent sentence she said; it was just a blur of words and phrases:
“Completely unlike you… Irresponsible…” I did my best not to smile and nodded along,
“Disrespectful… Absolutely intolerable…” A giggle was coming up my throat and I tried thinking of dead puppies to stifle it.
“Never would I… Poor Chad…” This was a lost cause. The moment I heard the words “poor” and “Chad” in a sentence I absolutely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and I was cackling like a madman.
In retrospect, I feel like my teacher must’ve been hard pressed not to do the same thing. Just imagining a prepubescent child angry shouting in close to the seventh octave must’ve been something worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Kudos to you Mrs. Smith for managing to keep a straight face through all this.
There’s something else I always remember about this story. The pencil Chad poked me with. That sharpened graphite tip seemed to channel everything into a point. Like a whip puts all its force into where it strikes, the pencil did the same. All of Chad’s stupid pranks and annoyances from the past ever were behind that pencil. That’s something which stuck with me through all this.
