<Bài viết đã được chỉnh sửa lúc 2005-02-18 02:32:35Tayduii>
The best and the worst
The class had become quiet. The subject was not tricky. We had to comment on the proverb just written on the blackboard ‘Empty barrels sound loud’. The teacher was walking back and forth on the wooden platform. His frosty face could not hide a large forehead just below his well-combed hair. It was 10 a.m. From the schoolyard, a light wind came in and caressed the well-ironed shirt.
I was in the third row. Danny sat next to me. He was one of those who were good at writing. His style was funny, agreeable and easy to understand.
At school, the most difficult part of an essay was to come up with an original and significant example. But I was only a teenager living in a little country. Our family library was small; I had read all of the books in only one year. At that time, there was no Internet connection, no easy communication with other people from foreign countries.
But I had a flash of inspiration in my mind. I remembered the story of a French lion hunter who was in a train arriving at the capital of the south of France. The passenger sitting in front of him, prided himself on being the famous hunter and didn’t know the stocky little man who was really the right person.
When they arrived at the railway station, and set foot on the platform, they saw an enthusiastic crowd coming to welcome the famous hunter.
I could not remember the whole name of this particular person. I asked Danny: “Do you know the story of the lion hunter ? What was his name ? Tartarin de what ?” His face brightened but his voice was vague : “Of course, it’s a very good example. I’m going to include this story in my essay.”
I was very angry “Is he crazy ? Didn’t he realise that it was my idea ?” “Hush…, be quiet while you’re writing, please!” The teacher spoke severely.
I returned to my work. I couldn’t use the same example, with him who seated next to me. One of us would be accused of copying the other. My head was floating a bit. The long hand of my watch pointed to 11. I had not filled even half a page. I was completely stressed and thousands of words were going through my mind. Finally, I completed the essay with a very bad example.
A week later, the teacher returned our copies. Two essays were read in the presence of the whole class, the best and the worst. Can you guess who had written them ? Danny and me respectively. I still remember the atmosphere when I went up to get my copy. I had never been more humiliated in my life. A deadly silence from my classmates.
Years and years went by. I wanted to find the teacher to tell him the truth. But I now live a very long way from my school. Each student went his way and we have spread all over the world. And I saw sequences of faces that passed before me.
One day, my first short story was published. And Danny stopped being an feature in my daily existence. I became more confident and tolerant. From time to time, when his face came back and obsessed me, I said to myself:
That is a charm of being human. A part of him came from me. I could be the best and the worst and it was not the last time I met this sort of situation.
Bui Nghia
![[8|]](/images/smiley/s13.gif)
The class had become quiet. The subject was not tricky. We had to comment on the proverb just written on the blackboard ‘Empty barrels sound loud’. The teacher was walking back and forth on the wooden platform. His frosty face could not hide a large forehead just below his well-combed hair. It was 10 a.m. From the schoolyard, a light wind came in and caressed the well-ironed shirt.
I was in the third row. Danny sat next to me. He was one of those who were good at writing. His style was funny, agreeable and easy to understand.
At school, the most difficult part of an essay was to come up with an original and significant example. But I was only a teenager living in a little country. Our family library was small; I had read all of the books in only one year. At that time, there was no Internet connection, no easy communication with other people from foreign countries.
But I had a flash of inspiration in my mind. I remembered the story of a French lion hunter who was in a train arriving at the capital of the south of France. The passenger sitting in front of him, prided himself on being the famous hunter and didn’t know the stocky little man who was really the right person.
When they arrived at the railway station, and set foot on the platform, they saw an enthusiastic crowd coming to welcome the famous hunter.
I could not remember the whole name of this particular person. I asked Danny: “Do you know the story of the lion hunter ? What was his name ? Tartarin de what ?” His face brightened but his voice was vague : “Of course, it’s a very good example. I’m going to include this story in my essay.”
I was very angry “Is he crazy ? Didn’t he realise that it was my idea ?” “Hush…, be quiet while you’re writing, please!” The teacher spoke severely.
I returned to my work. I couldn’t use the same example, with him who seated next to me. One of us would be accused of copying the other. My head was floating a bit. The long hand of my watch pointed to 11. I had not filled even half a page. I was completely stressed and thousands of words were going through my mind. Finally, I completed the essay with a very bad example.
A week later, the teacher returned our copies. Two essays were read in the presence of the whole class, the best and the worst. Can you guess who had written them ? Danny and me respectively. I still remember the atmosphere when I went up to get my copy. I had never been more humiliated in my life. A deadly silence from my classmates.
Years and years went by. I wanted to find the teacher to tell him the truth. But I now live a very long way from my school. Each student went his way and we have spread all over the world. And I saw sequences of faces that passed before me.
One day, my first short story was published. And Danny stopped being an feature in my daily existence. I became more confident and tolerant. From time to time, when his face came back and obsessed me, I said to myself:
That is a charm of being human. A part of him came from me. I could be the best and the worst and it was not the last time I met this sort of situation.
Bui Nghia
Tâydzuii