In my first week back to school after my one year hiatus the janitor
Mr. Goudy asked a couple of students to help him with some task that
I cannot remember the details of. At some point though I was supposed
to take a push broom from the Middle School hall to the office where
they were stored. I started walking back and I lifted the broom by
the bristles like an upside down tee and reached the handle up to hit
the roof just to see if I could. I could. I decided to give the
ceiling tile a little pop to just see what would happen. What
happened is the broom handle popped through with little resistance.
Not really thinking about the long-term consequences and just
enjoying the pure sensual rush of destruction. I was in a trance of
hole making when I was suddenly snapped back to reality by a, 'What
the hell are you doing?' In that moment I really didn't know. I
looked around and saw Mr. Goudy and then looked up and saw about 6
tiles riddled with holes and my normal verbal onslaught was strangely
absent. I had no recourse to an excuse or a lie so I just went with,
'I don't know why.' He just gave me a little exasperated look and my
heart sank. I was working through all of the worst case situations
ranging from expulsion to having my dad called. Mr Goudy just took me
with him down the hall to the janitors closet and got out new ceiling
tiles and a ladder and had me carry the new tiles to the scene of the
crime and had me hand them to him as he replaced them one by one.
Then when we were done he had me carry the broken tiles to the
dumpster and then he sent me back to class with no further
punishment. I was unsure if the incident was over so for the rest of
the day and the next I was so scared of further repercussions that I
was too sick to eat or to think clearly. It was over and I have never
deliberately broke something for the feel of it again.
