The chaos encircling Jackeline is getting uncontrollable. People bombarding a single teacher with questions, others bombarding each other with questions. Girls giggling, boys jeering and Jackeline unaware of all that surrounds her.
Her head hangs low and she fans herself with her hand. Rolling her eyes at the heat that fills the small claustrophobic classroom that resides above the Manual Arts High School bookroom.
With a flushed face, she asks: “Shall we begin?”
Only if you’re ready. So tell me, what’s your name?
Jackelnine Lopez.
Tell me a little bit about yourself Jackeline.
I’m seventeen years old. [Hesitates] I’m a senior attending Manual Arts High School.
At this point I stop her from continuing sentence. Something about the way she said what school she attends bothered me a bit.
Do you like your school?
That’s neither here nor there. It’s a respectable place. Has it’s ups and downs like every other school in South Central.
I see you don’t mess around with the sugar coating and the use of the word South Los Angeles.
Not at all. Why should I? [Laughs] I think you should embrace where you come from. Even if where you come from isn’t the best place.
Do you dislike your neighborhood?
I dislike my neighbors let’s get that straight. Then again, no one has the perfect relationship with their neighbors. Some are loud and others like to keep to themselves. Mine just so happen to be under the loud category.
How do you feel about the people at school?
They’re just sort of…there. I mean outside of my group of friends, I don’t trouble my thoughts with other people.
Would you say that is due because of bad experiences with certain people.
Not at all. Like I said, they’re just there. They’re them and I’m me and you’re you; If that makes any sense at all.
A confused look crosses Jackeline’s face. As if she herself is trying to process what she just tried to explain to me.
Experiences in general. Do you have any memorable experiences from Manual?
Um…I’m going to have to think about that.
Looking away, with a pensive look upon her face, her eyes scan the room as if within it, she will find the answer to the question.
During this time, she asked me if she could take a small break. She engaged in a small conversation with a friend. They talked and laughed and mentioned all the bad times. Finally after approximately five minutes her nonchalant manner put upon my face a smile.
I’m ready.
Where did we leave off? Oh yes, you were about to tell me about a good experience you have had here at Manual…
Oh right. Well there was this one time when I was in I believe the ninth grade. I was in Mr. Zavala’s class. I played the Saxophone. It was around finals time and well I had been absent for his final. The day after his final, he saw me and asked me if I wanted to make up the exam that day. I was never that good at the Saxophone [laughs] so I obviously refused. Naturally, not wanting to see a student of his fail, we engaged in a tug-of-war where instead of a rope was my bookbag.
So you were having a tug-of- war with your teacher, how was that like?
Embarrassing. People were starting to gather and stare. I know he meant well and I thank him for that but if anything I was saving his ears from the ugly music that would come out of that saxophone.
I’m sorry, but I can’t see the positive experience from that incident.
Really? Well even though it was really really embarrassing, I learned something that day.
What was that? I asked, for she had stopped talking.
Well I realized that not all teachers are bad teachers. Among them are the good ones that go as far as to start a tug-of-war with you to get you to take a final.
So, tell me Jackeline; How did you do on your final?
I didn’t. [She smiles] I never took it.
