Brandi stood at the front of the small classroom, glaring at me. She shifted her weight to one leg and stared again at the little strip of paper that she had taken from the brass container. I blushed. I knew exactly what had happened. For some reason the small, white classroom seemed even colder than normal. I glanced around the room. I sat toward the back of the class. I was in the second seat from the last on the second row from the door. From this position I was able to see the entire group of people. They usually seemed so nice.
Almost this exact thing happened about a week ago. I remember my Oral Communications teacher, Mrs. Williams, told everyone that we were going to do impromtu speeches. "Okay, here's whatcha do. You write about three topics. It can be more or less. I just want enough so that we can all have a topic to work from. Then you put them in this little basket, uh, then you come up here, and ya pick one." She spoke pleasantly. I enjoyed listening to her happy tone. I thought about the three topics we were supposed to write. It took me a while before I actually wrote anything down. The only thing that was floating in my mind at the time-- the only thing that is ever floating around in my mind-- was, of course, Hanson. I wrote down some interesting topics. I would have loved to get up there and explain to these people my point of view. Hopefully I would convince these Hanson-haters that there's nothing wrong with these guys. Maybe I could at least teach them the meaning of the song "MMMBop." I had cheerily written down my topics: "How does the song 'MMMBop' relate to everyday life?", "How does the song 'Weird' relate to everyday life?", and "How did Hanson get started?".
Almost everyone had blindely chosen my topics. Only one person actually gave a speech on any of them that day. This made me nervous. The only reason I had put those topics in the container was so I could pick one. I'd get a wonderful score on this speech. I know so much about them. I know exactly why they wrote those songs and even what MMMBop means.
Today, though, I stare at Brandi. She sighed and sat down to write out her speech. She had exactly two minutes to think of something to say. I couldn't help it. I had been thinking about how funny it would be if she picked one of my topics. More ironic than funny actually, but I couldn't help but to laugh. Brandi glanced back at me again. I paid no attention to her this time. The girl sitting beside me asked me what was wrong. "It was just so funny!" I gasped out in between giggles. "Oh," she said, "I thought you were crying." It's funny the way things can change so quickly. She was unwittingly foreshadowing the class for me. Brandi left the room momentarily. I moaned that she would probably say something bad about them. Mrs. Williams told me that she probably wouldn't and that I should clap really loudly after the speech was given. Brandi finally finished writting and stood once again at the front of the class. She was extremely tall with very long brown hair. Her body was very thin and lanky-- almost too thin actually. Everytime I saw her, it seemed, she was always in shorts, as if she didn't own a pair of jeans at all. Of course, who could blame her in the summer? Her eyebrows drooped down as she gave a short sigh. Her face suddenly brightened. She clasped her hands in a "Cutsie-wootsie" fashion and she smiled very big. She began her speech. "What does MMMBop actually mean? Well, in my opinion, it doesn't mean anything at all. How can anyone get meaning from a word that's not even in the dictionary. I don't really think that these boys have the authority to create a made-up word and expect people to put meaning to it. All they are is just a group of little boys that look like girls. Of course, all the little teenage girls oooh and aaah over them. I don't think they will last another year."
The speech continued and I was becomming more enraged by the second. She had chosen two topics. If she doesn't like Hanson, why doesn't she do a speech on the other one?! The sarcastic hand gestures and the way she rolled her eyes was the salt in the wound. "We're not allowed to do our speeches on controversial topics such as cigarette smoking or religion just so we won't offend our audience. What gives this girl the right to trample all over my heart as she verbally spits on my heroes?" I thought sourly.
Thankfully, the trash-talk was finally over. I didn't clap as Mrs. Williams suggested. I sat slumped in my seat. I wore a slight frown and a scowl directed at the tall speaker who walked down the little isle and sat at her desk. I am a person who always wears her heart on her sleeve. Anytime I get angry, I have to fight the urge to cry. My glare hardened before I finally spoke up. "May I please give my opinion now? Nobody realizes what MMMBop means because they never take the time to listen to the song! An mmmbop is a very very short frame of time--like an instant. The song is really deeper than it sounds at first. It's not just a bunch of words thrown together by a bunch of pre-teens. It's about holding on to true friends because when you're old, your true companions are gonna be the only ones that want you. As a matter of fact, the first verse says: 'You have so many relationships in this life. Only one or two will last. You go through all the pain and strife, then you turn your back and they're gone so fast... So hold on to the ones who really care. In the end they'll be the only ones there. When you get old and start loosing your hair, can you tell me who will still care?' Peaple just don't think that young people are capable of writting deeply. When Brandi said they didn't have enough life experience to know what the world is really like, I strongly beg to differ. They have gone through all this kind of stuff. They put up with people criticizing them for everytyhing from their ages, to their voices, and back to their hair. they also have lived in Trinidad, Venezuala, and Ecuador when they were very young because of their dad's work. It's not like they had a life of peaches and crea."
My protest went on with breif interuptions from the teacher and my classmates. My mouth was getting dry and my throat started to hurt. The lump in my throat was so big, it felt like I had swallowed my heart. "This conversation is really making me mad. I'm gonna get a drink of water.? I said, and with that, I left the room. It seemed like my thirst would never be quenched. Right there, in the middle of the hall, I began to cry. I tried to suppress my frustration to no avail. "Why does she have to be so mean? does Brandi not realize that I'm a 'little teenage girl' too? I can't handle this stress very well. I think it was a big mistake to come to college early in the first place. We Hanson fans must stick together to triumph over people like her. It's unenlightenment is what it is." I continually whimpered. I tried to compose myself while walking back to the class room. I just couldn't see myself re-entering that room to face those people. I sat in a chair just outside of the door. Moments later, one woman poked her head out of the door. "Are you coming back in?" she asked. "I refuse to go back into that room of savages." I sternly but calmly stated as I turned my nose up and looked the other direction. anything was better than bursting into tears in front of everyone.
I quickly became board and went outside to sit on the wooden bench under the awning. The entire rest of the class time I sat there and cried. I cursed myself for wallowing in my own self pity, but I couldn't get the speech out of my head. "A bunch of know-nothings..." I muttered to myself.
It was warm outside, even though it was early in the morning. It was about 9:30. I noticed two girls from my class walking around the side of the building. I stood up and started for the door. I needed to get my things before hurrying off to my next class, which was fine arts visual. At the door I met Brandi who was just comming out. She had a look of remorse on her face as she bent down slightly and apologetically said "Yvonne, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." I avoided eye contact. I walked right passed her saying only "uh uh."
I realized she was following me, trying to apologize. I quickened my pace so I could duck into the one-stalled bathroom. "Please listen to me Yvonne!" she pleaded as I entered the stall, locked the door, and began to cry quietly to myself. "I don't really hate Hanson. I just don't know anything about them. It was between them or White Water, and I don't know anything about White Water." She continued but I never acknowledged her. I realized I was acting immature but I was furious. I wanted to confront her about her speech but I didn't want her to see my tear stained face. The whites of my eyes were very pink now. This made my irises more green than usual. From crying so hard and so long I had red blotches just under my eyes. I had wiped almost all of my make-up by them. I heard the speaking of the door. I guessed that she was gone. Cautiously, I exited the restroom. "I'm in the clea." I said as I was within ten feet of the classroom. Just then, Mrs. Williams walked out the door. This surprised me and I wanted to turn around and just leave my books. Before I could start in the other direction, Mrs. Williams instructed me to come over to her. She gave me a big, sympathetic hug. she had been one of them who was expressing her opinion openly, without regard to the repercussions of her thoughtless words. At first the hug made me feel uncomfortablel. I was uneasy in the embrace. She began telling me how bad everyone felt after I left and refused to come back. She told me of how she would kick herself if I decided to drop out of the class or not come back next semester. She complemented my cartoons that were laying, spread out over my entire desk. I began to cry again. "Great," I thought, "just asd I stop crying, I start again." It was comforting to know that my outburst accomplished something. finally, Mrs. Williams pulled away and adjusted her brown-rimmed glasses. Her cow-lick was trying to stick up. I sniffled and put the back of my hand to my nose to make sure it wasn't runny. "You know Yvonne, after you left we were all like, 'Uh oh, I think we hurt her feelings.' Frankly, between you and me, Brandi felt like... excuse my French, shit." this made me smile a little. My teacher was so careful about avoiding profanity. "I saw your drawings. They're really good, and I realize that they are of Hanson. You've got a great talent that I would hate to loose. If you like Hanson, you have got to stick with your opinion, no matter what. As a matter of fact, I wish you would have burst out crying right here in the room. I wish you would have kicked and screamed and yelled at all of us. But you didn't, and that makes you special. You see, I throw my opinions at anyone, anywhere, but you... you keep yours to yourself. that's why my opinions aren't worth as much. Your opinions are worth alot, just for that reason."
Even though I had just dealt with such a bad confrontation against my beliefes and opinions, something good did come out of it. These words that Mrs. Williams spoke-- so whole-heartedly-- will stay with me forever-- not just because she complemented my work, but because she valued my opinion.
Even though I was one person against an entire class room, I stood my ground. the odds were against me but I over came. I got my point accross to them. They don't have to like the groups I like. All I ask of anyone is to look closer and base comments on facts. Even though Isaac, Taylor, and Zac Hanson weren't there that day, I think they would have been proud of the way I stood up for them. I didn't use any bad comments against my classmates. I didn't try to send anyone on a guilt trip. I just shared with them the facts about the group of people I admire most in the world. If all I said to them didn't make any change in their point of view, then that's the way it is. If I made even one person see hanson in a different, better perspective, than I have accomplished something, and this makes me feel good.
This took place in June of 1998. All of this really happened in just one day.
