Broken Windows Chapter 6

If you are new to Broken Windows, thanks for reading. You may want to start here http://paulblais.blogspot.com/2011/11/introduction.html. I hope you have a good time with the book.

Also, if you read chapter 5, I added five paragraphs to the end of it. So you may want to just check to see if you read the updated version before you read chapter 6. I appoligize for the confussion. I'll try not to do that to you again.
http://paulblais.blogspot.com/2011/11/broken-windows-chapter-5.html


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There was this one dude that I kind of knew since I was in grade school. Fact is we were in like the same class every other year or something like that. He showed up in second grade after his mom moved into town. I think she was on the run from her husband that was probably hitting her or something. Verge never talked about it much, except for just a few times. Turns out that his mom ended up shacking up with another guy that must have been just as bad. Man, I could tell you stories about that guy.

Anyhow, Verge just showed up half way through the school year right after Christmas break. He ended up sitting behind me one row over to the left, closer to the door.

What a funky name for a kid to have. It wasn’t really Verge- fact is nobody called him by his real name except for maybe his mom when she wasn’t really happy with him. Now that I think about it, she was always called him Virgil.

So, on the first day that Verge shows up in class, the teacher brought him to the front of the class to introduce him and put him on the spot and all. Why do teachers do that? I mean, take a total newbie and stand him up in front of everybody and introduce him like that. That’s the last thing he wants is to have everybody staring at him like he is some sort of freak or something. My dad always used to talk about this crazy study that was done about what were the top ten things that people were scarred of. He would say that the number two fear was dying. Then he would ask someone that was new to the story, “What do you think the number one thing people are scarred of?” Then, after what he would call a “pregnant pause”, he would say, “Speaking in front of a group of people!” Then without skipping a beat he would go on to say, “In other words, people would rather die, than talk in front of a crowd.”

I always rolled my eyes when I heard that one coming, but his audience would always laugh. He was always saying stuff like that. But stink, it’s true! And that’s exactly what every stupid teacher does to every new kid that shows up half way through a school year right after Christmas break. She makes him stand there and introduce himself, or say something about himself, or say where he is from, or give some kind of report on life in Africa, or something stupid like that.

And that’s what the teacher does to Verge the first day he shows up in class. I don’t think she even talked to him before class. She must have had some note from the principal or something like that on her desk saying she was getting a new student or something.

So she gets up in front of class and says that we have a new student in class and calls him to the front of the class to stand with her. After he timidly climbs out of the safety of his desk, he drags his feet to the front of the class and then, while the teacher is looking at a piece of paper, she says, “Class, this is Virgil Hamperray.”

I tell you what, I’ll never forget the look on his face as it went three colors of red which set off his freckles like nobody’s business.

“It’s Verge.” His head was kind of hung low as he glowered out from under his mop of red hair at everyone in the classroom. It was too late though. The damage had already been done. A laugh went up from the class when they saw that his name bugged him.

“Now, now, class,” the teacher says. “Simmer down. This is not how you make someone feel welcome on his first day. Let’s be kind.”

We slowly stopped the snickering as we took a better look at Virgil. His clothes were clean, but were showing signs of prolonged use. His pants were starting to play peek-a-boo with his ankles, and his shoes were starting to bulge like some fish net that’s bursting with too large a catch.

“Tell us where you are from, Verge.”

He didn’t say a word for a moment. “Verge,” prompted the teacher, “do you want to tell us where you are from?”

He mumbled something that only the teacher could hear, so she repeated it for the rest of the class. “Oh, you’re from Florida. Well, by coming to Vancouver you’ve moved about as far away from Florida as you can get?” She sounded all pleased with herself as if she had just showed us all how important it is to know geography or something stupid like that. She even stepped over to the map of the U.S. and pointed where Florida was. Why do teachers always try to teach you geography when they are introducing some newbie? Stink.

So that’s the first time I ever saw Verge. Then every other year or so we were in a class together, but we never really got to being friends or anything like that. He kind of hung out with his little crowd of friends and I hung with my little crowd. I mean we knew each other by name and all, but we just didn’t hang much together.



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