Everyday, I have to face my fear at 8:00 AM. I gather up the courage to pull myself away from a table with all my friends in the cafeteria and walk up the stairs with a trembling in my chest that makes it difficult for me to talk in a level voice to anyone. After reaching the second floor, my anticipation of the fear is overcome by such a rush of adrenaline that my body functions at a higher level than any other time. My heart races at just over 80 beats per minute; my veins stick out of my arms like small pieces of hosing popping from a wall; my pupils dialate to take in enough light to fight whatever foe I might encounter; my muscles swell with blood and water; my ears close out all the white noise and hear only the unusual sounds.
This ecstatic, intense feeling continues as I enter room 213 and see that evil instructor of the English language dwelling in his studious lair and listening to the twangs of bluegrass music to pull in the unsuspecting music enthusiast. This man is the Kunkle. He trains to terrorize high school students day and night all year round. His foul methods of instruction slowly inject one with knowledge that is unwanted.
My fear of this monster began in my freshman year. Every morning I would make the same journey to the Kunkave that I do now as a senior. I have grown no less fearful. Some say that facing a fear is the best way to overcome it. I disagree. Daily, I continue to make myself trek to that lowly room where he waits in inglorious sea of poetry and rhetoric. Waiting to teach, but I resist the knowledge. Wanting to inspire, but I remain complacent.
The fear I have was created during the Mythology unit in English 9. Learning of gods and titans, muses and fates, I realized that there was something horrid about this man. He continued to attempt to poison my fellow freshman and me with a daily poem that was the appetizer for his gruessome feast of language and composition. A banquet filled with the sour taste of grammar. The horrors continued daily as we moved into Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet. One would have expected such a classic novel to be palable. However, the story of love offered no love of any kind under the harsh regime of the Kunkle. I am lucky to have survived to take the class in which I am currently enrolled.
It is my hope that by conditioning myself gradually to this man's mad approach to instruction I may overcome my fear. By exposing myself to his methods for an hour and a half each day, I hope to either reverse his terribly tyrannical type of teaching or to become so atuned to it that I no longer am fearful.
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I've been attempting to cultivate a monstrous persona for quite some time. I'm glad someone finally noticed. Usually the students just laugh at me.
ReplyDelete"Kunkave"-- I like that. From now on that might be my name of choice for good old 213.
Hahahaha! This is the funniest blog I've read in a while. I think my favorite part was when you said, "that evil instructor of the English language dwelling in his studious lair and listening to the twangs of bluegrass music to pull in the unsuspecting music enthusiast." Ha! Awesome job--I'm definitely glad Mr. Kunkle got to read it.
ReplyDeletethis is HILARIOUS :) you really took a creative spin on what your greatest fear was, and it worked in your favor!! Best blog ever.
ReplyDeleteThis was definitely a good blog. However, it would have been better had you mentioned the fact that I was your inspiration for this. I could sue. I won't though, because that would be incredibly lame and take a lot of time and money that I don't have. Regardless, this was creative and inspiring. I too, fear entering the Kunkave.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of a dream I had my sophomore year. In the dream, I went down a coridor to Mr. Kunkle's class. The room was large and grey, the walls were built of massive blocks of roughly-hewn stone so thick that the narrow windows cut high above barely let in any light. The students were all sitting at wooden tables, and the Kunkle was at a table of polished dark wood at the front of the room. As I took my seat, several young students in livery, presumably freshman servants, brushed past me to deliver him silver platters of food: grapes and cutlets. Kunkle made an austere figure sitting in the straight-backed chair, illuminated only by a single taper in front of him and the cold, dim light from a distant sun.
ReplyDeleteThe funny thing is that this scene might actually be possible at one of the colleges to which I'm applying. Minus the servants.
Bravo. I'm glad someone decided to say it!
ReplyDeleteYour use of language throughout gives an excellent image. Very well written and enjoyable (as always).
Ha! That was an amazing fear. I feel your pain, really. This was probably one of the best posts I've seen in a while. Excellent job. Your style is really engrossing and detailed. This was a fun read.
ReplyDeleteThis was pretty funny. I enjoyed reading it because you brought up good points...then you twisted it around to make him seem like a villain.
ReplyDelete