this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on June 17, 1999.
Everyone was shocked by the senseless murders that occurred in Columbine High School in Colorado last April. And it was not only because the two teenagers went on a shooting spree and killed so many young people like them, but also because they harbored so much anger and hatred as to make them commit such a horrible crime. It was said that their hidden rage was caused by the emotional abuse they received from their schoolmates. They and their small circle of friends were considered as outcasts in the community that was most important to them.
Actually, this situation is not new to us. The only difference is the degree of rage that possessed the two high school students and the means they chose to achieve deliverance. I came from an institution of learning that boasts of high moral values, excellent academic standards and a reputation for righteousness and holiness. Yet behind this facade lie some horrible truths. Its students wallow in lies, vanity, hatred, depression and envy like those in many other high schools. During my stay in that school, I witnessed students who went through experiences similar to those of the Columbine murderers, many of them my own friends and acquaintances.
I cannot say I was among those who were considered outcasts, but neither did I belong to the proud and privileged crowd. I did not share their lifestyle. Although I was not an exceptional student, I was saved from sharing their lot by an above-average intellect and some other talents. These talents I willingly shared with others, and they earned me their respect. It did not also hurt that I had friends among the members of the elite and intellectually gifted. But still I was in limbo, never actually belonging to either group. This could be the reason the outcasts would approach me and relate their stories. Or maybe they just didn’t care who they were talking to so long as someone was there to listen.
Maggie
Maggie was always an underachiever. I know of no other student who was as deficient in academics as she. She was huge and really looked weird with her thick eyeglasses and awkward movements. She was three years older than most of us, but she spoke and acted like a child five or even eight years younger. I cannot count the times when the teachers or fellow students humiliated her in front of the class or the whole school. I cannot count the times when I joined them in laughing at her. What irritated us most and made us try to make her even more miserable was that she tried to laugh with us.
Every time we met, I would try to avert my eyes, but she always greeted me. There were times she would start talking in her own awkward way, and we always ended up having an interesting conversation. It never ceases to amaze me that despite her learning disabilities, she never forgot our names, the things we were good at, and the things we liked. But school years ended without me noticing much of her existence. Then she transferred to another school with a much lower academic standard than ours. I cannot say exactly whether she gave up on us or we gave up on her. My conscience tells me it’s the latter.
Klim
Whether we admit it or not, physical appearance often shapes human relationships. Klim was not particularly ugly. It was more like she looked homely. She was an average student, without any significant talent or ability. Her fate as an outcast was sealed when another student caught her doing something with her nose that is better done in private. From that time on, everyone called her by what she got from that exercise. Others were not content just calling her by that name. They questioned the way she looked at them, challenged her answers to questions asked during recitation and mocked the way she dressed. I myself chose a much safer and cowardly course: I ignored her.
But on a field trip during our senior year, she sat uninvited beside me on the bus. I had planned on enjoying the ride by myself. Surprisingly when we started conversing with each other, I found no reason to complain except that she tended to talk too much about herself. And yet she was so eager to please. The last time I saw her after our graduation, she was walking on the street, wearing the same uniform as many of those who had tormented her during our four years in high school. In my heart, I wished her good luck.
Marie
Then there was Marie. She came from a dysfunctional family. I am certain that had she taken her studies seriously, she would have been an exemplary student. She did not waste time letting everyone know she hated them. She showed no care or concern for anything or anyone, especially herself. She always picked fights, and I knew she wanted to be caught by school officials so that everyone would notice her. We didn’t become close friends, but for a brief period of time she poured out her problems to me and I became her ineffective adviser. I guess she wasn’t really after my advice; all she needed was attention and someone willing to listen to her.
There were times when I sneaked glimpses of her wrists, which were hidden by the long sleeves of her uniform. I saw numerous, ugly scars and scratches left by repeated self-mutilation. Out of curiosity, I once asked her what they were. She proudly told me how she made them but never did she say why. She told me that she used a safety pin and repeatedly scratched her skin with it, although the wounds were not deep enough to be fatal. I am sure she had a death wish. It was a mistake when I got too close to her for comfort. She immediately shut me out of her life. I haven’t heard from her since graduation. But I fervently hope there will always be people willing to listen to her lest she decide to use a knife instead of a safety pin.
I don’t know what happened to Maggie, Klim and Marie. Maybe college is much kinder to them (I don’t want to think otherwise). I wish they could have put the past behind them, specifically their experiences in high school. I hope they have buried their anger, their hatred and their humiliation.
The Columbine shooting was a tragic mistake. But the bigger mistake was not made by two boys, but by those who turned them into killers. The murders were an act of cowardice but they were the only means of redemption as far as the two killers were concerned. I do not know if Maggie, Klim, Marie and other outcasts had the strength to carry out something as evil as the two Columbine students’ retribution.
