Stereotypes: A Short Story

We all have those moments where we feel that the world is against us, and we wonder why all of this is only happening to us. I remember a particular moment in my life when I was feeling stressed by something out of my control and felt like I was all alone in my struggle.
It was November of my freshman year of high school and I was sitting in my world history class. My teacher was Mr. Fuchs, who had told us in September about how to correctly pronounce his name. He would proudly tell us that it was the German word for fox, but unfortunately it looked very close to the word most commonly seen scribbled on bathroom stalls and bus seats. Halfway through another boring lecture about India’s culture, the class was interrupted when Mr. Fuchs’s classroom phone rang. The

students sighed with relief because there was finally a distraction.
“Yes, this is Mr. Fuchs,” he answered cheerfully. After a few seconds he hung up the phone and looked at me.
“Brandon, you need to go to the nurse’s office. Looks like you were sick and you didn’t even know it,” he joked. The class laughed but my eyes were wide with confusion. I remember thinking, “I don’t feel sick. Why do I have to go to the nurse?”
I loathe being singled out in front of a group because it makes me anxious. I had no idea how long this visit to the nurse would take, and there were about twenty minutes left of class. As much as I wanted to get out of the class, I could not leave until I figured out whether or not I should pack up my stuff and take it with me. I asked Mr. Fuchs nervously if that is what I should do. He told me that there was still a lot of time left of class, so I could just leave without my stuff. I stumbled out of the room, but suddenly realized I had no idea where the nurse’s office was. I could have asked Mr. Fuchs where it was, but I figured that I had already made enough of an interruption and since I was already out the door, it would be too awkward to come back in and ask him. I turned to the right and started walking when I heard Mr. Fuchs’ voice again.
“It’s the other way,” he directed, and the class laughed again.

I gave him a fake smile as I turned around and walked down the left hallway, while on the inside I was wallowing in self-deprecation.
How could I be such an idiot?
It had only been two minutes since the phone call, but it felt like an hour. I began to panic after I walked down every hallway that I could find on both floors and still had no luck in finding the nurse’s office. I was convinced that this office did not exist and that all my efforts in finding it would be for nothing. I was embarrassed about asking for help because I did not want to feel like a little kid. Even though I was still thirteen, one of the youngest in my grade, I was 5’11” and in high school, so everyone expected me to act like an adult.
Adults solve their own problems.
At this point I was in front of the main office. I stalled outside the door wondering if I should go in. I peered in at the blonde woman at the front desk, who was looking down at some papers. After much loitering, I stepped in and approached her. I asked her if she could tell me where the nurse’s office was. She looked up at me with her tired eyes and directed me to the end of the hallway on the

right.
I thanked her and quickly went back outside. At least now I knew that the nurse’s office was real. I just had to keep walking down this hallway. I glanced into the room at my left and to my horror saw that it was Mr. Fuchs’ room. I had traveled all this way just to end up back where I started. I rushed past his doorway and walked a few more steps until I saw it. To my right was a giant room with glass on all sides with a woman sitting at a desk inside. It was only thirty feet from Mr. Fuchs’ room, and I had no idea how I missed it the first time. All of a sudden, I remembered that I still had no idea why I needed to be here, which made me nervous. As I approached the office, my mind raced with questions about what the nurse might tell me. Exhausted from the unexpected tour of the school and frustrated from my failure to notice this huge room at first, I stepped through the door and the woman looked at me. She had short brown hair and glasses, and she was much friendlier than the secretary in the main office.
“Are you Brandon Litwin?” she asked.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Oh, good. Please have a seat here. I’m just going to check your head for lice.”
Lice? I’ve never had lice in my life. Is there a problem in the school? Why am I the only one getting checked?
She saw the concerned look on my face and explained, “I got a call from the elementary school nurse. Your sister Kaitlin has lice, and we need to make sure you don’t have it.” Now I finally had someone to blame for all the stress this incident had caused me. As the nurse combed through my very short freshly cut hair, I wondered angrily about how Kaitlin was stupid enough to get lice. I then thought about how angry my mom would get when she found out. I knew that as soon as I got home the house would be in a state of upheaval as she washed all the sheets and bought special products to get rid of lice. I felt terrible for Kaitlin because she was only ten years old and to this day is still deathly afraid of bugs. I could only imagine the nightmare she was experiencing.
After thirty seconds, the nurse finished and sent me back to class. As I reentered Mr. Fuchs’ room, he asked me if I was alright. At this point I looked at the clock and realized I had been gone for fifteen minutes for a process that should have only taken one minute. In all my frustration and confusion, the only response I could muster was a nod up and down. I sank back into my seat for the remaining few minutes of class and sifted through the woeful thoughts in my head as Mr. Fuchs went back to teaching.
I missed a lot of class. I’ll probably fail the next test. I don’t want to go home. My mom and my sister will both be hysterical.
Mr. Fuchs asked me after class what happened and I told him all about my struggle to find the nurse and the news of my sister’s lice. He gave me his copy of the notes and let me keep them. He reassured me that everything would be fine, and I left the class in a better mood than when I entered. That’s how Mr. Fuchs became my favorite teacher.
I learned that I can’t control when something happens to me, but I can control how I react to it. I tend to overcomplicate my problems by thinking too much about the possible repercussions before they even happen. I don’t have to be so hard on myself for making a small mistake. I exacerbate (a word I learned from Mr. Fuchs) the issue in my head and forget that I don’t have to be alone. My friendly and caring history teacher had gone of his way to help me with my problem, and I realized how dumb I was for not asking him where the nurse’s office was in the first place.
Kaitlin has Mr. Fuchs this year, and I hope that he helps her the same way he helped me four years ago.