I haven’t a clue how she kept her job…
I was a junior and in love with writing and with science and, along with every other testosterone-sick guy in school, with Ms. Haft. She was freshly graduated from college and wore her hair long and her skirts short. It’s still odd to me, but rather than standing or sitting, she taught while kneeling on her desk. We eschewed rows and columns and circled our desks around the perimeter of the room. One day – it’s one of the few clear memories I have of high-school – Ms. Haft walked into the room, climbed up on her desk, knelt down, and in the most droning, flat, and unemotional voice said “fuck”. Pencils, papers, jaws – everything dropped. Every set of eyes shot up from whatever they were looking at and turned to their neighbor first and then to the teacher. The air left the room. After a very long and very pregnant pause, she said it again. Fuck. And then again. Fuck you. Fuck me. Well, fuck it all.
All of a sudden, school got interesting.
She explained that today’s lesson had two parts. Part one was that we would circle the room and everyone would say Fuck out loud in turn. Just utter the word. Just push air out of your lungs to make the sounds. Touch your upper teeth to your lower lip and say it. Fuck. Good god. What harm can come from expelling air and forming a sound?
We went ’round our circle one-by-one. A couple students, pale and panting at the idea of letting such an abomination squeeze through their lips, shook their head No. I think one person gathered up and left. Some, given permission to swear for probably the first time, said the word over and over until told to stop. In the end, I think everyone in the room except for two or three, completed the odd lesson.
Lesson two is that words are meaningless. Do you imagine that ‘Fuck’ has any real meaning? Do you imagine that lovers would say such a word to each other? If we never bat an eye when the word is spoken would people continue to use it? Words only have meaning when we agree to their meaning.
But is that true? Here’s another story. My boy and I were bugging each other going through the check-out line at the grocers. He was probably fifteen and being annoying so I said something like ‘that’s why you had to ride the short bus to school.’ (https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ride%20the%20short%20bus) Without missing a beat, the clerk gave me a look that made me feel like a complete pig and said, “My son rides the short bus to school.” What’s that about words having no meaning? What’s that about words not hurting? Nonsense.
The very purpose of words is to convey meaning. No word is meaningless. Words move us to great joy or to great pain. Words can elevate a nation. Words can change your life in an instant. “I’m leaving.” “I Have a Dream!” “Math is hard.” How many girls have never forgotten when their dad told them that he loves them even though they are chubby? How many adults have never imagined what wonderful things they can do only because someone three or four decades ago told them that “you’re not good at that.” My own father remembered me at four-years-old reaching for his hand once to walk across the street. He said that he slapped my hand away and said “Big boys don’t hold hands”. I have no memory of the words but the sentiment still resounds in me. And it was meaningful enough for him to remember it fifty years later.
I disagree with Ms. Haft about the meaning of words but she alludes to something that I do agree with: dark things lose their power when exposed to light.
I don’t know what happened to Ms. Haft. I don’t remember if she was there for my senior year. The last thing I remember about her was when she caught on that my buddy and I were the sole members of our high-school Maoist club. We dropped pamphlets and commie art in teacher’s mail each morning and beamed for days after Ms. Haft told us that the school board had called a special meeting to discuss ‘communist infestation’ at the school.
Be careful with your words. We never, ever know the effects we have on people around us. Even an offhand remark to your son in the checkout line at the grocery store can make or break someone’s day.