the abuse of authority

Once, Jane unintentionally drops her slate in front of Mr. Brocklehurst, a harsh and unpleasant man, making him furious and blaming her in public by asking her to stand on a stool. Moreover, Mr. Brocklehurst requests everyone to exclude her and forbids anyone to talk to her the rest of the day. While the clouds of despair obscure Jane’s sky, the silent consolation from Helen, smiling at her every time she passed by, becomes the beam of sunshine that illuminates the darkness. It reminds me of my childhood experience. 

I used to be a child that always performed well on my schoolwork, but not the typical type of “good student” that received much love from teachers due to my mischief. When I was 11 years old, I was humiliated in front of the class by my PE teacher who insisted that I didn’t finish the 800-meter running test. Out of rage, he shouted at me loudly and used abusive words regardless of other classmates and my defense that I did finish my run with another classmate running with me. As a compromise, I ran another 200 meters with all my classmates staring at me and my tears dropping from my eyes. After the class, no one came to me, even the one that ran with me, except for one classmate that accompanied me patiently. She was like my Helen, providing me the courage to retrieve my broken heart at my darkest time. 

This event came to an end and followed another event that also hurt me when I was 12. I was elected as the model student by our classmates while the ideal candidate for my homeroom teacher is another one. As the model student of our class, I had to compete with model students in other classes for the representative model students of our school. In the end, I won second place out of three nominees, which I considered not a bad result. Yet, my homeroom teacher disclosed terrible messages that seriously hurt my self-esteem once I was caught passing letters with others during the class. She had me stand up and read aloud the contents of the letter in front of the class. Accusing all of my behaviors she considered rebellious in mean words, she also despised me by telling the class that no teachers liked me even though I was good at studying, no one voted for me in the election, and some teachers even discussed me behind my back. Once again, I felt ashamed and cried in front of the class. From then on, every time I encountered teachers reminded me of these words, resulting in my dread of teachers, even the ones that I thought we had good relationships with. Furthermore, my confidence faded away, causing me to blame myself for minor mistakes all the time and care about how others judge me to an excessive extent. 

For those teachers, it is not a big deal to vent their emotions on students at their wills. For Jane and me, these experiences could be a wound that would never heal. Possessing a relatively higher status, those teachers exerted their authority and oppressed students with a superior attitude. Students, on the other hand, become the victims that have no strength to resist the dominant power. In addition, the temporary pleasure for teachers could be a trauma that haunted students for a lifetime and pushed them to the valley of low self-esteem. Fortunately, Jane and I have supporters like Helen that are willing to save us at our worst. Nevertheless, I still disagree with the unhealthy subordinate relationship between teachers and students and hope that students can be on equal status with teachers rather than being inferior objectives that have no choice but to endure the unreasonable treatment from teachers. 

(Of course, there are still many teachers that are exceptional and worth respecting! The main point for this article is about the unequal rights between students and teachers. )