What we write about when we write about teethmarks.
/So, here's a vivid memory from sixth grade. We were in music class, and our poor music teacher... well, discipline wasn't her strong suit. The kids from the special ed class had joined us, and I remember my classmates verbally savaging a mentally retarded girl named Tina. During class. I watched and listened, horrified.
I could see that Tina didn't understand everything my evil classmates were saying, but she understood enough. I could see that my music teacher was overwhelmed, the class galloping away from her, but I hated her for not acting.
And I hated myself for being helpless.
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