“The Boy Who Sneezed”
A micro memoir by Anonymous (9).
“What were you thinking?” she exclaimed.
Startled and confused, I asked, “What?”
“Did you have to say ‘Bless you’?” Her tone was serious and threatening.
“Well I-”
“No.” She cut me off “That was extremely disrespectful. You know that he has allergies and sneezes a lot, he can’t control it.”
“But I-”
“No.” She waved her finger in the air and those standing in the front of the class handed the papers to the teacher, still staring at me like I was her prey.
7the grade, 3 days away from Spring Break. The final vocab test was handed out. The papers were passed back, and the chatter slowly died out. Exactly two seats ahead of me, and one to the right was a boy whom many found awkward and weird. Clarence was friendly, kind and generally funny. Other students still talked to him, but he was titled as “the weird kid”. It was early spring and his allergies were triggered.
“Bless you,” said part of the class. “Salud,” said the very few who remember the previous Spanish class. A blanket of silence fell over my peers as it had previously done. He huffed and puffed attempting to sniffle his sneeze, but it was overwhelming. He let out a mighty sneeze and fewer students replied with a “Bless you.” Clarence appreciated the respect he was receiving and quietly thanked those who responded to his sneeze.
Clarence quietly stood and walked towards Mrs. A’s desk and reached for the tissue box and froze. He hurriedly grabbed multiple tissues and pressed them against his nose. He erupted in another sneeze and suddenly I was the last and only person to say “Bless you.” A few students giggled. Mrs. A sent a threatening glare to those who broke the silence and all noise ceased after that. Clearance dropped his tissue into the trash bin and quietly resumed his work.
Minutes had passed, and some students had finished dropping their pencils and flipping their papers. I was reviewing my sheet when the fourth and final sneeze came out. More giggled, and only I responded “Bless you.” It is after his fourth sneeze that Clarence realizes that he may be disrupting students. Clarence shuffled towards Mrs. A’s desk and asks if he can work outside. She nods silently with pity in her eyes. He shuts the door and the class is finally quiet.
Pencils scratch, erasers rub and Mrs. A’s chair squeaks as she treads towards her podium, her eyes have a menacing glare. Her nose lets out steam. “Finish up please.” The scratching of pencils speeds up. She watches the students pass the papers up and closes the door leaving the One who Sneezes outside. She sternly stares in my direction and starts, “What were you thinking?”
Startled and confused, I asked, “What?”
“Did you have to say ‘Bless you’?” Her tone was serious and threatening.
“Well I-”
“No,” she cut me off. “That was extremely disrespectful. You know he sneezes a lot and he can’t control it.”
“But I-”
“No.” She dragged her finger in the air and those standing in the front of the class handed the papers to the teacher, still staring at me like I was her prey. She called in the Boy Who Sneezed and he too submitted his papers. She lead us outside for a two minute break. We chatted amongst ourselves and I complained to my friends who too looked concerned about how the teacher acted, and confused on the situation overall. The Boy Who Sneezed had not heard the story yet but when recapped, he shared the similar and confused expression of the other students.
A mix of emotions was boiling within me. Should I feel guilty, ashamed? Or was the teacher's judgment unjust and not fair? Should I apologize? Or complain and get clarification for what happened. I dwelled on this throughout the day sharing how I felt with friends and family and once again, they were confused. Years pass, and I am still confused, but perhaps it was my tone or the excessiveness which upset the teacher. The anger she felt could have been rooted from a previous moment in time. Perhaps she just simply did not favor me. She was always harsher with her grading when it came towards me. My peers would get a higher score even when our answers were almost identical. Looking back, she never encouraged me like she did with other students. Maybe I was in her eyes, the bad apple.