It's the Spanish Sparkle *

Sitting in Spanish, listening to Sra. Moreno drone on about the differences between the imperfect and the preterit, I couldn’t help but begin to look around the room, to people watch. Why? Well, because that’s what I do. It was interesting though, because as I sat in the tiniest desk, which is luckily the closest one to the door, I began comparing people’s needs; their need for attention, their need for solitude, and their need for music are just the beginning.

Luckily, this is a class where I have a few close friends, so naturally I tend to watch them for various irrelevant reasons. Majority of the time, it’s hysterical to watch the two of them; I have the best angle on them, too. There’s only one desk that separates them, and their expressions and actions are blatantly displayed as if it were for my viewing pleasure. Of course, they’re two boys, and for the sake of making things less complicated, we’ll call them John and Ryan. Best part is that they despise one another. John will get an answer wrong, so Ryan will send his hand soaring into the air faster than a frog reaches for a fly. When Ryan gets the answer right, his jaw flexes upward a notch as he give a smug glance in John’s direction. Also, if Ryan makes a comment that John perceives as drivel, John can’t simply roll his eyes and let people be. No, it has to be more complicated than that. So, he’ll turn in my direction and mouth a rant about how dumb Ryan is, which might be interesting if I weren’t nearsighted. Then there are the little things they do: angling away from each other, subtly looking in the other’s direction to see if he’s failing, arguing between drumming and playing guitar, the flinches they make when hearing the other’s voice, the immediate mix of anger, sorrow, and jealousy when the other’s name is mentioned. It all plays into each of their needs to make himself feel superior.

On the not-so-lucky end, this is a class where I get to deal with that kid in school, the one who thinks he’s an individual and boasts about it nonstop. This is the one who, when we get a test back, always makes a comment about how bad he did. It doesn’t matter if he got high eighties or even nineties, you’d be guaranteed to win any bet placed on him making a comment. And I sit and I watch him, constantly laughing as loud as possible to a joke that wasn’t funny, acting negative whenever he gets the chance, and overall never shutting up. In certain cases, this could just be a normal teenage thing. But, should one deep look be taken in his direction, his secrets are revealed. The rigidity in the way he does things, constant need for noise, as well as the little sparkle of desperation set in the back of his eyes conspire to give him away. It’s a shame that one should have to feel the burden of that insecurity, but even more so that no one should bother to notice the excessive effort he puts into actions that should be like breathing.

These kids were just in my Spanish class, never mind my other classes. Simply paying ten minutes worth of attention was needed to gain their needs. Whether it be for acceptance or for superiority, human nature betrays us all. Pay the ten minutes worth. It could be the difference between comforting someone who needs it and having them cuss you out for commenting on their shirt.