quarter jerk

i have often been told that puerto ricans have a bit of a possessive side. the main source of this information is my mom, whom has a puerto rican father, making me 1/4 puerto rican. others have been friends and family members that also attest that puerto ricans, and most spanish cultures for that matter, just seem to be more possessive than other cultures, especially with relationships.

though, even given my puerto rican background, i never really considered myself possessive. on the contrary, my non-chalont nature led me to believe that i wasn't the type to even get jealous. and to my knowledge, i have only showed an overprotective bearing on my little sister, for whom i would very likely die and kill for.

however, in the last several years, i have not only found my puerto rican possessiveness to be present, but have also realized that it has been there all along. hell, in the last year it has become more apparent than ever, as i have been teaching in a predominately latino school. i've had one student swing on another because they were leaning against HIS desk, i've had one student try to stab another with a pencil, because they had HIS pen, and i can't begin to count the incidents that have happened because somebody is dating HIS girl, or HER "man". all of it has caused me to think...to reflect. and the truth is, is that, i'm a possessive guy. i have lived in the basement most of my life, and have always wanted it a certain way. it was my territory. the Quest, which i treated as my personal apartment my senior year of high school, was mine by default, and everyone knew it. in some way, sort, or manner, i managed to let everyone in my family know that this is Reggie's vehicle. i wouldn't let ex-girlfriends have a successful breakup, because although the title left, i didn't want them to go anywhere. i didn't want them to go to a point where i couldn't see them or know what was going on. in my mind, my subconscious puerto rican mind, they were mine. and i wasn't about let them not be mine.

last week, for instance, i found myself in a situation at grad school. my class, made up of mostly career changing adults, had piled into the room and were awaiting the professor, whom by this time had established the fact that he was always going to be late. now, within the program i'm in, there are about 120 of us, and as such, the school has split up classes in about 3-4 groups. each group gets mixed up each semester. now that we're about a year into it though, everyone pretty much knows everyone else. i can count my friends on one hand. that's not because i'm not friendly or anything though, it's just that most of the people in my program are career changing adults...and a quarter of them are jerks. in this particular class that i'm in now though, i have one good friend. she was my first friend in the program, and one that i probably have the most fun with sitting in class making sarcasitc remarks. she very smart though, where i'm a little rougher around the edges. think of it as a hermonie and harry thing, for those that are into the harry potter. for as often as she helps me with an assignment, i make her laugh. or, for as often as she makes me laugh in class, i fuck something up and upset her in a "dog-pissing-on-the-carpet" way. to a certain degree though, i think she takes pleasure in the fact that i would really be a fuck up if it weren't for her. but i would probably never admit to it.

in this class, the one i'm in now with her, she has been more of a help than in any other. this class is one focusing on upper-level mathematics, proving theorems and laws, and all sorts of shit i haven't seen in years. so we often sit next to each other, as we have done in every class before, and do our usual thing. i take notes. i don't understand notes. i daydream as she takes notes. then she explains the notes to me. then i understand the notes. then we both take notes until i start daydreaming again. last week though, i walk in the classroom, and this OTHER guy is sitting next to her. i froze at the doorway for a second and just looked at him. surely he knew that was my seat. i'd been sitting there the last two weeks! for the next 15 seconds i tried to run theories in my head as to what was going on. had she asked him to sit there? was he only there for a moment, maybe asking her a question? or, like a sixth grader, was he just simply trying me, eager to see what i was going to do about his infringement??

i took a deep breath, and quietly sat down a few aisles from him.

i caught a few undefined glances from her during that class, but neither of us said anything after class was over. throughout it though, he often looked over on her page of notes, asking her questions and commenting on the lesson. she, not being rude, was responding, entertaining the whole situation. i could do nothing that whole class, although i was quite impressed with my completion on a su doku puzzle i had been having problems with all that day. the next day, i found that i was earlier than the both of them, and went to take my regular seat. she came in next, and went to take her sit next to me. then he came, and took a new seat next to her. and there it became apparent. he was after my friend. he wanted to be her harry potter. and yes, i was a jerk for thinking this, but i didn't care. this was my class buddy. my only class buddy, and i wasn't about to let him take her away. and so as a defensive move...i did nothing. i simply sat, and let him do what he thought was best. bugging her during the lessons for explanations, which i never did. looking on her page, copying from her notes, which i know irritated her. after about an hour in, i actually found it entertaining that he was digging his own grave.

then, it happened. it was like a lost episode, after you find out that huge piece of the puzzle that answers so many questions while simultaneously introducing new questions...yeah, like that. towards the end of the class, the guy seemingly didn't understand something that the rest of the class seemingly understood (a position i find myself in everyday in that class). yet, where i know just to shut the fuck up in that situation, he thought it to be more impressive if he demanded answers from the professor in a back and forth argument about what exactly it is that he didn't understand. you see, HE understood what he didn't understand, but for some reason, he couldn't quite convery that to the professor efficiently. so after about 3 minutes, he gave up and let the professor move on. and it wouldn't have been so bad if it had stopped there, but it didn't. apparently, he used to sit on the front row with some other, more attentive, classmates. and about a week before, he was asking one of the girls on the front row for help, and she rejected him, which is why he moved to the back and started moving in on MY class buddy. and so, right after his heated discussion with the professor, the girl in the front that rejected him a week before decided to help him out by explaning to the professor what exactly he was confused about. and that's where it got nasty. i suppose he had been carrying around a grudge for that girl not helping him; so at the sound of her voice then, deciding to help him then, and not before, he started yelling in an outrage. "NO! I DO NOT WANT YOUR HELP! I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP NOW!!" the professor couldn't control it. and the girl just kept talking, trying to tell him and the professor she can help explain the problem. then he stood and pointed at her, "IF YOU WANT TO HELP, YOU SHOULD TEACH THE CLASS!!! I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP ANYMORE!! YOU ARE NOTHING!!..." and he kept this up until she broke out of the room crying.

the class was in utter silence, until that special quarter of the class (the jerks), started laughing at the whole spectacle. me and my class buddy, just stared at each other, afraid to say anything due t the fact that we were sitting right next to him. in my mind, he not only dug his own grave, he went and laid in it, pulled the dirt back inside, mounted the headstone, and pushed up some flowers.

i felt a little bad at first. i felt bad because i felt good. a fraction of me was satisfied; hell, even gleeful. there would be no way i would lose my friend to him, the yelling dopefiend from the grave. but still, he was only looking for help. companionship in a classroom of jerks and career-changing adults. this didn't matter though. that fraction of me was overwhelming. it was happiness, and i had to focus to make it go away. it's not like me to find satisfaction in the misfortune of others, for he had truly embarassed himself. by the end of class though, i managed to find some true pity floating around in my stomach, and felt relieved that i wasn't a total monster. no one said anything about it as class ended, though everyone was looking at him, some with shaking heads, others with small smirks. my friend though, looked at him with what seemed to be understanding, but still disappointment. kinda like a "dog-pissing-on-the-carpet" look.

i hadn't made it out the classroom before a small voice in my head said, "cójalo, él es un asno!"