twist
11-16-2012, 04:19 PM
He was what you would call a rough diamond. A gentle push in the right direction was all he needed from a mentor, if you will, such as me. He was a promising student and I did so want to see him succeed, even more than he did. You know how teachers can be when they spot potential, I mean real potential.
Perhaps, you can then forgive me for I did what I did that day. I’ve been trying to forget about the whole thing for six weeks now but I still wake up in a sweat, my heart pounding for fear of being found out. I’ve decided to confess before it’s too late.
You can spend your life being an honest, law-abiding citizen. One rash, reckless act in misguided goodwill can dash all that to pieces - peace of mind shattered.
Robert Montgomery was a gifted artist. I gave him a few tips at the beginning of the year. He took these on board and was now far and away the best artist in his class. In fact I’d go further – he was the best I had ever taught. Anything he painted would come to life. He had the most precise control of his paint brush. Watching him paint had become the best moments during my class. I wondered if he had the potential to be as great as Monet or Renoir. I was watching Robert paint a watering can and plants, fascinated by the canvas rapidly capture the scene before him.
“That’s a real masterpiece” I enthused. Robert smiled shyly and shrugged his shoulders. “So Robert, have you started thinking about which art college you want to go to?” I asked.
“Actually I don’t want to go to an art college. I want to join the army like my older brother, Harry.” I nearly fell off my chair in shock. “But, but you’re so incredibly talented!” I spluttered.
“I’ve always wanted to join the army and Harry says I’d make a great soldier.” he said.
My head was reeling. I had been dreaming for so long about Robert becoming a famous artist that I hadn’t considered that he might not even want the career I had imagined for him. Oh why hadn’t I spoken to him sooner? I might have had time to make him see sense. The school year was almost up and exams were looming. He seemed to have made his decision.
I lay awake in bed that night wondering if there was anything I could do to change his mind. I remembered Harry. He didn’t have an artistic bone in his body. He was perfectly suited for the army, well-built and practical. Robert was slender, a dreamer and a born artist. Why on earth would he want to join the army? I could only assume he wanted to follow in his brother’s footsteps. I couldn’t bear to see such talent go to waste. But what could I do?
I had it! I sat bolt upright, I was so excited. I would come to deeply regret my plan but at the time getting Robert away from the clutches of the army was my only concern. I went to sleep dreaming my idea into life. I waited till the following week when I would have my plan worked out.
Robert would thank me later, I assured myself, starting up the car that fateful morning an hour earlier than usual. It was a warm June morning but I was unable to enjoy it as I was so nervous. I had never done anything like this before. I had to get to school before anyone else did.
I parked in the teacher’s car park. I was the only one there. I made my way to the principal’s office and unlocked the door with the key I had copied. I opened the filing cabinet where pupils’ files were kept. I quickly scanned through the files. The principal was extremely organised. You could say that much for him. 'Robert Montgomery' I said to myself as I found the file. My fingers trembled a little as I opened it. His army application was in there, completed. A form for reference had been completed by the principal as I knew it would be, ready to post the following day Now I didn’t have much experience as a forger but I managed to write a different reference explaining Robert’s unsuitability for the army and scribbled the principal’s signature underneath. I stuffed it into an envelope marked reference. No-one would ever know. I still felt I was acting in Robert’s best interests. That boy was meant to be an artist and I just wanted to help him realise that. I then hastily made my way to my classroom and took out some artwork from yesterday’s class.
“You’re early!” remarked Owen, our caretaker.
“Just catching up with marking some work” I said, knocking over my cup. I’m just putting the kettle on, would you like a cup of tea?” he asked politely.
“Yes please” I replied holding out my cup. It shook ever so slightly but I don’t think he noticed.
“Here you go, sir” he said. He caught me looking at Robert’s painting. He’s a talented boy, that Robert. But ever since his parents died he’s tried to be just like his older brother. He’s completely devoted to him.
“So you know him?” I said surprised. “He lives two doors down. Poor boys, they’re just getting over the tragedy. They want to carry on the family tradition. Their father and grandfather were in the army. It means a great deal to him. His mother was an artist. Her work was exhibited in the village hall a few times. Then we heard the terrible news that she and her husband were killed in a train crash. The boys’ grandmother looked after them until she died last year. I remember the last exhibition I went to. It was a painting of her husband and both sons in army uniform.
“Who looks after Robert now?” I asked. I was beginning to feel guilty about my forged reference. “An elderly aunt’s come over. I think he just has to take care of himself” he responded.
I gazed out of the window and watched the principal pulling into his parking space. It was too late to retrieve the reference.
Over the next week I picked the phone up on numerous occasions to call the Army and explain that the reference was a mistake but I chickened out each time. The fear of losing the job which I loved and my “crime” being discovered was too great. I convinced myself I was helping Robert choose what was best for him.
A few weeks later Robert came into the class, visibly upset. His hand shook as he painted. I had a sinking feeling this was to do with the army application. I cleared my throat. “Robert, are you okay?" He didn’t reply. “Is your brother alright?” I continued.
“My application for the army has been refused. I don’t know why they don’t want me.” he said quietly but his voice full of emotion.
This was the moment I’d planned for weeks.
“Well, it’s not the end of the world. You could always apply to art schools.” I tried to smile encouragingly but guilty feelings intervened.
“You don’t understand at all. My mother’s last painting was of my dad, Harry and me in army uniform. I wanted to do this for her.”
“But don’t you see that you take after her. You’ve got her talent.” He just looked down. I could see he wasn’t convinced. “Try and stay alive for her.”
His heart wasn’t in his work during that lesson and I felt terrible as this was part of his exam assessment. I found a previous piece of work he’d done and altered the date on it. Never in my whole teaching career would I have contemplated doing such a thing. In my insane desire to “help” a pupil I had turned into a criminal.
However worse was yet to come. I bumped into Owen the next morning, literally. ”Are you okay?” I enquired. He clearly wasn’t.
“Robert was found dead outside his house this morning. He was wearing his brother’s spare army uniform. Apparently he jumped from the first floor. His poor aunt was in such a state. His brother Harry – he doesn’t know yet” he ended with a sob.
The principal called all the teachers into the staff room to break the terrible news. It was all over the local news for days. I felt so guilty but didn’t know how to confess. A memorial service was held but was a blur.
It’s been six weeks since that terrible tragedy. I took a month off school as I couldn’t face teaching. I returned last week and now stand outside the principal’s office, head bowed, with a resignation letter and written confession in my hand. I feel like I killed Robert myself…
Perhaps, you can then forgive me for I did what I did that day. I’ve been trying to forget about the whole thing for six weeks now but I still wake up in a sweat, my heart pounding for fear of being found out. I’ve decided to confess before it’s too late.
You can spend your life being an honest, law-abiding citizen. One rash, reckless act in misguided goodwill can dash all that to pieces - peace of mind shattered.
Robert Montgomery was a gifted artist. I gave him a few tips at the beginning of the year. He took these on board and was now far and away the best artist in his class. In fact I’d go further – he was the best I had ever taught. Anything he painted would come to life. He had the most precise control of his paint brush. Watching him paint had become the best moments during my class. I wondered if he had the potential to be as great as Monet or Renoir. I was watching Robert paint a watering can and plants, fascinated by the canvas rapidly capture the scene before him.
“That’s a real masterpiece” I enthused. Robert smiled shyly and shrugged his shoulders. “So Robert, have you started thinking about which art college you want to go to?” I asked.
“Actually I don’t want to go to an art college. I want to join the army like my older brother, Harry.” I nearly fell off my chair in shock. “But, but you’re so incredibly talented!” I spluttered.
“I’ve always wanted to join the army and Harry says I’d make a great soldier.” he said.
My head was reeling. I had been dreaming for so long about Robert becoming a famous artist that I hadn’t considered that he might not even want the career I had imagined for him. Oh why hadn’t I spoken to him sooner? I might have had time to make him see sense. The school year was almost up and exams were looming. He seemed to have made his decision.
I lay awake in bed that night wondering if there was anything I could do to change his mind. I remembered Harry. He didn’t have an artistic bone in his body. He was perfectly suited for the army, well-built and practical. Robert was slender, a dreamer and a born artist. Why on earth would he want to join the army? I could only assume he wanted to follow in his brother’s footsteps. I couldn’t bear to see such talent go to waste. But what could I do?
I had it! I sat bolt upright, I was so excited. I would come to deeply regret my plan but at the time getting Robert away from the clutches of the army was my only concern. I went to sleep dreaming my idea into life. I waited till the following week when I would have my plan worked out.
Robert would thank me later, I assured myself, starting up the car that fateful morning an hour earlier than usual. It was a warm June morning but I was unable to enjoy it as I was so nervous. I had never done anything like this before. I had to get to school before anyone else did.
I parked in the teacher’s car park. I was the only one there. I made my way to the principal’s office and unlocked the door with the key I had copied. I opened the filing cabinet where pupils’ files were kept. I quickly scanned through the files. The principal was extremely organised. You could say that much for him. 'Robert Montgomery' I said to myself as I found the file. My fingers trembled a little as I opened it. His army application was in there, completed. A form for reference had been completed by the principal as I knew it would be, ready to post the following day Now I didn’t have much experience as a forger but I managed to write a different reference explaining Robert’s unsuitability for the army and scribbled the principal’s signature underneath. I stuffed it into an envelope marked reference. No-one would ever know. I still felt I was acting in Robert’s best interests. That boy was meant to be an artist and I just wanted to help him realise that. I then hastily made my way to my classroom and took out some artwork from yesterday’s class.
“You’re early!” remarked Owen, our caretaker.
“Just catching up with marking some work” I said, knocking over my cup. I’m just putting the kettle on, would you like a cup of tea?” he asked politely.
“Yes please” I replied holding out my cup. It shook ever so slightly but I don’t think he noticed.
“Here you go, sir” he said. He caught me looking at Robert’s painting. He’s a talented boy, that Robert. But ever since his parents died he’s tried to be just like his older brother. He’s completely devoted to him.
“So you know him?” I said surprised. “He lives two doors down. Poor boys, they’re just getting over the tragedy. They want to carry on the family tradition. Their father and grandfather were in the army. It means a great deal to him. His mother was an artist. Her work was exhibited in the village hall a few times. Then we heard the terrible news that she and her husband were killed in a train crash. The boys’ grandmother looked after them until she died last year. I remember the last exhibition I went to. It was a painting of her husband and both sons in army uniform.
“Who looks after Robert now?” I asked. I was beginning to feel guilty about my forged reference. “An elderly aunt’s come over. I think he just has to take care of himself” he responded.
I gazed out of the window and watched the principal pulling into his parking space. It was too late to retrieve the reference.
Over the next week I picked the phone up on numerous occasions to call the Army and explain that the reference was a mistake but I chickened out each time. The fear of losing the job which I loved and my “crime” being discovered was too great. I convinced myself I was helping Robert choose what was best for him.
A few weeks later Robert came into the class, visibly upset. His hand shook as he painted. I had a sinking feeling this was to do with the army application. I cleared my throat. “Robert, are you okay?" He didn’t reply. “Is your brother alright?” I continued.
“My application for the army has been refused. I don’t know why they don’t want me.” he said quietly but his voice full of emotion.
This was the moment I’d planned for weeks.
“Well, it’s not the end of the world. You could always apply to art schools.” I tried to smile encouragingly but guilty feelings intervened.
“You don’t understand at all. My mother’s last painting was of my dad, Harry and me in army uniform. I wanted to do this for her.”
“But don’t you see that you take after her. You’ve got her talent.” He just looked down. I could see he wasn’t convinced. “Try and stay alive for her.”
His heart wasn’t in his work during that lesson and I felt terrible as this was part of his exam assessment. I found a previous piece of work he’d done and altered the date on it. Never in my whole teaching career would I have contemplated doing such a thing. In my insane desire to “help” a pupil I had turned into a criminal.
However worse was yet to come. I bumped into Owen the next morning, literally. ”Are you okay?” I enquired. He clearly wasn’t.
“Robert was found dead outside his house this morning. He was wearing his brother’s spare army uniform. Apparently he jumped from the first floor. His poor aunt was in such a state. His brother Harry – he doesn’t know yet” he ended with a sob.
The principal called all the teachers into the staff room to break the terrible news. It was all over the local news for days. I felt so guilty but didn’t know how to confess. A memorial service was held but was a blur.
It’s been six weeks since that terrible tragedy. I took a month off school as I couldn’t face teaching. I returned last week and now stand outside the principal’s office, head bowed, with a resignation letter and written confession in my hand. I feel like I killed Robert myself…