Not My Problem

by Ciara Smyth

Women died for your right to vote, girls; the least you can do is use it. Boys, you’ve had a head start – if you want to sit this one out, be my guest.”

Just because someone tells you they can do something you like the sound of, doesn’t mean it’s remotely possible, and if they can’t actually achieve it, then they’re worse than useless to you.”

She was one of those teachers where you could have the craic with her, but when she reached her limit... well, no one tested what happened when she reached her limit, but the threats often involved an inhumane amount of exercise.

“I’m going to address the problems the students really care about. I mean, if she wanted to address the problems students really have, she’d be printing fake IDs or getting us all tickets for Electric Picnic.”

I watched for a moment, curious like I was getting to see rare footage of a creature undisturbed in its natural habitat.

It’s like a dormant creature living in my stomach and every now and then it wakes up and crawls up my throat to choke me.

didn’t seem fair that it was easy for Meabh and Orla and Katia; I got all the hassle and they got to be brave and everyone else got to act like our school had always been this rainbow utopia.

“Look,” I said matter-of-factly. “I fail at things all the time. I promise you nothing actually happens. It won’t kill you.”

“I’ll think, the worst has already happened and you survived it. You’ve wasted years of your life being a perfectionist.”

“I simply can’t do everything unless I give up sleep. And I’ve tried that before. It did not end well.”

“If I schedule relaxation, all I’ll do is think about all the things I need to do. Which is not relaxing.”

“I know everything,” she said absently.

No pre-class coffee for Meabh. She probably thought coffee was a gateway drug to cocaine.

But I was more than aware that someone could seem like one thing and be another.

That’s why I don’t need to do PE. I get all my cardio from anxiety about what my mother is doing at any given moment.

“How is it that you live a life of scheduled pee breaks and yet you still somehow manage to find the time and energy to correct my grammar?”

Aren’t you the one who said the other day that Ireland is a country that has entered a period of racial and cultural diversification and that now is the time to address the issues of systemic racism and xenophobia embedded in our society?

“You wanna talk about labour? Let’s discuss the exploitation of farmers in the global south so that white girls can get mass-produced quinoa in Tesco.”

“There are a few nuns wandering the halls of this place, Ronan. I am not one of them. I’m sorry that comes as a surprise to you.”

I hated that this was escalating. They both assumed the worst in each other and were both totally

grim. I thought about some of the papers I handed in and had a tiny sliver of sympathy for my teachers. Imagine having to read that crap all day.

Why would I work my arse off when that’s the best I can do anyway? Some people are never going to be able to do better! As much as you want to have your inspiring teacher moment, I’m only going to disappoint you!”

“You won’t disappoint me if you try,” she said. She was so earnest I felt sad for her. She needed a life of her own to worry about.

Maths felt like someone was trying to teach me a foreign language by speaking another foreign language.

I was supposed to be the author’s therapist and analyse it all.

But then I stitched up the hole that ripped open when these things happened. That scar always healed in an ugly way but it was tough.

In this old musty church hall I felt poor and I felt neglected. I felt like a charity case. Don’t get me wrong, it could be worse, but it could be a whole lot fucking better too.

“I do know better. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t so I don’t hurt their fragile feelings? Maybe other people should just be smarter.”

“You’re upset about people not following the rules you set for them, right? You think it means they don’t care about whatever cause you have on at the time.”

Middle-class people are not wise.

Why do people always think you’re young when you’re short? There are short adults, for God’s sake.

“Chivalry is simply another form of misogyny that places women on a pedestal, thus denying them full humanity and agency.”

Like when I was really little I didn’t know we were poor. And then I figured it out and I avoided saying certain things that I knew marked me as “the poor kid”.

I’m going to murder people I’m going to do it in style. I’m not going to half-arse it. It’s not Maths homework. It’s a passion project.”

But as much as you can know these things, it is never not weird to see your teacher outside of school.

brain flooded with all the things I didn’t understand. Eight subjects, and I was drowning in all of them. How was I ever going to get back on track when I couldn’t even remember the last time I was on track?

She’s at a breaking point. She might stab us both and eat our bones and bathe in our blood. That’s an awkward conversation for another day.

“Your ideas were really good today,” I said. “You’d be a good dictator.”

When I thought of her weird schedule I wondered suddenly if it wasn’t that Mr Kowalski had forbidden Meabh from quitting anything, it was that Meabh had simply never been able to tell her dad that every new thing she picked up to impress him was another burden she had to carry.

She couldn’t quit because that would make her a failure. And perfect girls don’t fail.