See Ya Later r C

Mr. C was the nicest teacher I’ve ever had. He gave the easiest exams, greeted everyone with a smile and never, not even once, raised his voice in class.

Of course we were horrible to him. We were such brats. We used his class time to eat, chat, braid our hair and work on projects for our other classes. We made fun of the dumbest things like how he was the only teacher who rode a bike to school or how his eyes would widen every time he got really enthusiastic in his lectures. Even the other teachers would imitate his goofy grin and his stutter. And yet Mr. C’s kindness never faltered. He never took anything personally, which frustrated the hell out of everyone. We all longed for the day he would nally snap.

But he never gave us that satisfaction. It was the middle of Christmas break when Mr. C died in his sleep. The last thing he said was how excited he was to cook for his family the next day. Except he never woke up. None of us knew he had heart complications. Nor that we would be his last advisory class. And as his class president, I had never felt more awful about myself.

A few days later, I found myself back in Mr. C’s class.

As usual, nobody paid attention to his lecture, including myself. I remember being in the middle of a conversation with my seatmates when for some reason I felt the need to get up. The moment I stood up, the reality of Mr. C’s death hit me like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over my head. I looked at Mr. C and saw a man smiling and full of life. Goosebumps crept over my body. I started crying. The voices around me mellowed until the only the sound in the room was my sobbing. Mr. C asked me what was wrong. I kept apologizing, kept telling him he deserved better. My classmates began to cry, too. I asked him why he had to leave so soon. I turned to Mr. C and saw tears running down his cheeks. On his face was a small, sad smile. I asked him if he’d ever forgive us but before he could respond, I woke up, sobbing.