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I casually glance at the window: after passing a long time correcting my students' tests, I only notice now how late it is getting.
I can see in the distance the football field emptying as all the students leave after practice and pack their bags.
Then I look back at my desk filled with documents and papers and I sigh.
I believe I had underestimated the amount of after-school work teachers have to do when I applied for a job here at this school: I can pull all nighters when needed, sure, but I can't keep staying up late all the time, like during the Philantropy days...! Or like when I was on the Nomad. Peaceful times after the collapse of the Sons Of the Patriots system require a healthy sleep schedule to maintain.
On the other hand though, at this rate, I won't be able to finish at all today. And to think I had promised my students to hand these tests back right on the next day... Oh, silly me. Silly Hal.
"Come on, Hal, it's just a little bit late in the afternoon," I whisper softly to myself, "push through a few more tests and then-"
My tired encouragement words are cut short by a knock on my classroom's door. The knock is far from quiet, and I assume the person knocking is just as tired as me, perhaps too tired to notice how hard they're knocking... not that it bothers me. Maybe it's a colleague?
"Come in."
The door handle turns very slowly and a boy's face takes a peak inside the room and sees me. His expression immediately becomes one of surprise: "O-Oh, hello, I... I-I'm sorry, I... I thought... nobody was inside."
I make a warm and welcoming smile to him: "No need to worry. Actually... why don't you take a seat? You... You look rough."
The boy timidly steps inside and he sits right in front of me in the first row of desks without saying a word. I focus on his face for a moment: it looks dirty, some clumps of hair are tangled in mud as they cover one or two bruises on his forehead.
I ask him, keeping my eyes on his face, making sure to see if he is hurt anywhere else or not: "Did you have a bad day...?"
I had those too back in the day, I almost added, having to deal with guys taller and stronger than me... demonstrating their so-called "masculinity" onto me. Eventually, I was ending up as a sorry mess... minus the mud: I never was much of an outdoors or sporty person to begin with.
The boy avoids eye contact with me and answers with a raspy voice: "Yeah, bad day... Football practice was awful today."
"Do you need anything? Something to eat, drink, just... anything at all?". As I say this, I stand up and walk away from the teacher's desk to get close to the guy. I see him flinch and lean back and my heart sank a little.
You didn't just have a bad day and shitty football practice, did you?
"O-Oh, I didn't mean to scare you... Sometimes, I forget that since I am taller than most of my students, I could give the impression of... towering over them...!" I ask with an awkward smile on my face, in an equally awkward attempt to brighten the atmosphere... but an equally awkward absence of words follows.
I break the silence, taking my time to lower my gaze and fix my glasses: "Okay, alright, sorry... That was bad. I'm just... tired."
Get it together, Hal! Don't be an idiot!
"Me too."
Not expecting him to react to my awkwardness, my ears perk up. My eyes focus once again on the boy sitting next to me. My eyebrows furrow slightly, as concern is setting onto my face, and my gaze silently invites him (or should I say wait for him?) to go on.
"I'm tired of those guys... The guys in the football team."
I have already put 2 and 2 together as this young man had come into my classroom, but hearing it from him, listening to him confirming my fears, makes me seethe with protective rage; I clench my fists, trying my absolute best to contain the anger brewing within me. Yet, I let the following words escape my mouth: "What did they... no, what are they doing to you?"
Don't scare him off, Hal. He needs you. He needs someone willing to lend a kind ear.
He nervously passes a hand through his hair before talking in a feeble voice, filled with shame: "They tell me... I'm weak... that I am a wimp... that I lack a backbone, that I..."
"Listen carefully." I speak up, interrupting him and making him gasp (I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!). I turn slightly to fully face him. "Look up... Look at me."
Hesitantly, he raises his gaze until we are looking directly into each other's eyes.
"From what I am hearing from you, those guys are actually the ones without a backbone... and a brain capable of comprehending that not everyone learns to play football... or anything, really... at the same pace as them... You're not weak or a wimp, you just need your time."
I can see the boy trying to force a smile, but it immediately fades away as tears start to run down his face.
"You don't... understand." he says.
"I'm here to listen. I may understand, or I may not... Either way, I am not here to judge you." I reassure him.
"I don't have a girlfriend... unlike them..."
Before he speaks again, quiet brief but painful seconds pass by.
"...but I am... not interested in... having one..."
Silence. Again. I see the boy pushing through the crying, but only being able to get out sobs in return. I offer him a tissue from my pocket, and his shaky hand take it it immediately.
"Take your time... I can tell you have been holding this in for a long time..." I whisper.
The boy wipes away his tears. "Mr. Emmerich, I... "
...
...
"... I'm gay. That's why... the football guys are doing..." he gestured with a finger to the bruises on his face, circling them repeatedly, "...this... to me."
Oh... no... That's... much worse than I had thought.
Now I'm angrier, but I try not to show it in front of the boy who has just come out to me. My hands tightly grip the edge of the desk. I take a deep breath.
When I started dating Snake, shortly after the Shadow Moses incident, no one batted an eye. Everyone seemed to be cool with it: he had saved my life and I was so, so grateful for that. It was thanks to him that I realised not only I was capable of loving someone, but that I deserved to be loved too.
And there's this guy... whose dickheads sorry excuses of " teammates" are verbally and physically violent towards him, the sole reason why being that he likes guys, not girls.
Suddenly, while I am fixing my glasses and collecting myself, the boy speaks again, his voice more fearful: "Mr. Emmerich... You look... angry. Is this... wrong? Are they right...? Am I a monster?"
"No." I firmly answer, looking directly into the boy's eyes. "Absolutely not. You're actually the most sane person on that football team."
The boy seems surprised, but also relieved.
He needs hope, doesn't he? Am I getting through?
"You should never... EVER... feel unsafe, regardless of who you are or who and what you like. You want to be true to yourself in a group where everyone plays the part of the... young prodigy athlete asking girls out left and right."
Now I notice that even his breathing has relaxed...
That burden is finally off his shoulders.
"You want to be yourself... And here in my classroom, you can. You're free..."
"Free?"
I push my glasses up my nose before continuing: "You see... In Computer Science, you only have to think, what really matters is the brain of the programmer... not their body. I find it... inclusive... I'm not sure if you follow."
"I-It's okay... I see what you mean, Mr. Emmerich."
"Good... Now... How about we make a deal? I'll be leaving the door open at lunchtime, so that if you want to avoid them, then... that's fine. You come in and eat anytime."
His eyes light up: "Thank you... You... You didn't have to do that."
"I'm not done." I say with a smile on my face slowly shifting into a fierce expression. "I'll make sure that action is taken on these... on your bullies. And I am not saying this just to put your mind at ease. I'm serious: I'll do something about it."
"You... You really didn't have to, Mr. Emmerich, I..."
"I have to. A teacher's job isn't just teaching the material, but also protect their students. I have already said it, but I'll say it again: it's okay, you're safe here. You're not a monster. If you have anything else to say... You have my support, alright?"
I offer him a handshake, which he accepts.
For a moment, my mind goes back to that one elaborate handshake Snake and I created when we founded Philanthropy, during a time when even though the nightmare that was Shadow Moses ended, there was still a lot of uncertainty ahead in the future. Snake and I created this handshake... as a reminder that none of us was alone, that we could live through everything life could throw at us.
And that's the feeling I want to pass onto my student with this much simpler yet meaningful handshake: they can choose their family, the people whom they will never have to apologise for being their true selves.