Drama in drama

Back in the 8th grade I fancied myself quite the thespian and playwright. I had grown up dancing, and felt a draw to the lights and drama of the stage--also the theater teacher was cool and all the kids who acted in the plays were cool and naturally I gravitated toward all things that would help me be cool.

Most days I got nervous, my hands got sweaty, I delivered some mediocre monologue, and high-fived with lots of other 8th-graders--whose hands were rarely as sweaty as mine--but all was usually well at Brockbank Junior.

One day however, our teacher stepped out to take care of whatever business teachers take care of, and at the angsty age of 13 I was unofficially left in charge of a classroom full of other angtsy teens.

I don’t remember the events in the majority of her absence, but about five minutes before she returned two girls began shouting angry phrases at one another. Phrases soon became slaps, and the dispute became very physical. The last thing I remember from that day was the wild-eyed look on one girls face as she clasped her hands around the neck of the other.

While the class was definitely in a chaotic state, it was the personal chaos that has stuck with me all these years. As petty as the fight began, I felt as though I saw something snap in her.

Violence fueled by rage is often also fueled by a social component, as many have cited, however something personal has to happen—even when acting with a “mob mentality”—that has a personal transformative power.

True chaos will always follow a snap like the one I observed that day. Some part of the humanity we share is lost, and with it sensitivities that protect order.