Yuri didn’t want to be here. He really, really didn’t want to be here. But this wasn’t the first time his thoughts on a subject were discounted as irrelevant. So he tried to distract himself by staring at the wall in front of him. If his principal shifted just a little to the left, he’d be in Yuri’s line of sight.
He sighed, which echoed loudly in the still room. He hadn’t realized his principal had stopped talking and that three faces were looking at him, expectantly.
He gave his best blank stare, one that could send his teachers running to the hills. No one dared to ask him a question after being treated to that stare. But his principal was made of sterner stuff. And his parents…well…
“Yuri your principal asked you something,” said his mother in a tight voice.
Mr. Rahat was well aware of Yuri’s blank stare. His teachers had complained of it often. He didn’t want to intervene but he saw the alarming tomato colour Yuri’s mother’s face had gotten and decided to speak up for everyone’s sakes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Akule, why don’t you wait outside and let me speak to Yuri?”
The parents gave Yuri their own patented stare, one that promised retribution for the ignominy of being called to the principal’s office, and stormed out of the cramped space.
Mr. Rahat sat back down, breathing a sigh of relief. The Akules had scared him, how did poor Yuri handle it he didn’t know.
He knew the boy wouldn’t break the silence so did not stand on ceremony and asked a question. “Yuri what’s going on with you?”
Yuri did not respond. He refused to speak to an adult. He turned away, staring at the window this time. He could see the trees outside and that gave him the feeling of being free and he clutched onto it.
“Yuri please talk to me.”
Without looking away, he said icily, “Why?”
After having being a principal for more than a decade, Mr. Rahat had still not understood why teens always thought that they were the only ones with problems, or that they were alone.
Well, he couldn’t really blame them for feeling the latter. Adults did have less patience for all things teen.
“Because I’m willing to listen.”
Yuri looked at him critically. “I want to study science. I quite enjoy it.”
“Okay. I don’t see the problem.”
“Of course you don’t. My parents think I’m being ambitious.”
“Well, are you?” At the younger man’s glare, Mr. Rahat hastened to add, “What I mean is, are you ready to put in the hours and effort it’ll take?”
He was glad to note that for a change Yuri Akule was not snapping back, or giving him his palpable stare. He was actually thinking. Mr. Rahat wanted to say more, give more gyaan now that the younger man seemed receptive but stopped himself.
“Thank you sir,” he said at length. “That was helpful.”
Mr. Rahat nodded and got up from his chair. But Yuri was still sitting.
“Can you speak to my parents though? On my behalf.”
“In what way?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Just maybe ask them to back off a little?”
Mr. Rahat chuckled but acquiesced. It had been easy to solve Yuri’s complaint. He wondered if his parents would be as open as their son. If nothing else, he’d have a marvellous story to tell his wife later.
As soon as the Akules entered the office, the litany of complaints about their son began. There were a whole stream of words flowing around but Mr. Rahat let it wash over him. He knew Mrs. Akule would have to pause for a breath and when she did, he would cease his chance.
When she stopped, Mr. Rahat said, “Maybe you should listen to him.”
The parents looked at the principal and then at each other.
“What?” asked Mr. Akule, looking as if Mr. Rahat had asked for his kidney.
Mr. Rahat tried again. “Listen to your son. Don’t talk at him. If you ask him a question, wait for him to respond. Don’t start talking. Can you do that?”
When he saw the blank looks, he shrugged. Even after more than two decades of being a teacher and a principal, he did not understand all the expectations that parents had from their children.
Knowing he had done everything he could for the moment, he escorted the Akules out of his office. As a parting note, he told Yuri to speak to him if he needed anything, and let them go on their way. He hoped they’d figure things out between themselves and not bother him again. But if his experience was anything to go by, he knew they weren’t the first or the last set of parents he’d be speaking to.
He settled in his office and called his wife. “I have reason number 561 why not having children was a good idea,” he began without preamble.
Written as part of Blogchatter’s #MyFriendAlexa.
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