Chill by Colin Frizzell Page B

“real world,” which we’re supposed to be frightened of, doesn’t have wedgies, swirlies, people threatening to beat you up, constant put-downs and unbearable pressure from all sides to conform.
    â€œIf you can survive until university with just a little bit of yourself still intact, the ‘real world’ will be a much better place than the one you’re in now,” Ms. Surette said.
    Ms. Surette was big on the “staying true to yourself” thing, which is why she liked Chill so much because Chill was Chill. She also liked him because he was a heck of an artist.
    â€œChill,” she said, looking at his rendition of the bowl of fruit that she’d had us painting all class, “I want you to work on something else this semester.”
    â€œSure,” Chill said.
    â€œYou haven’t heard what it is yet.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” he said.
    This made Ms. Surette smile. She had told us that when opportunities and challenges arise, saying yes opens doors; saying no closes them.
    â€œDoes that go for drugs too, Ms. Surette?” Pete Moss had asked. We had called him Pete since the time, for a dollar, he drank the water we rinsed our brushes in. It turned his teeth and tongue green for a week. His drugs comment got a small laugh from everyone.
    â€œYes,” Ms. Surette replied, silencing Pete and the class. “The challenge and opportunity there is for you to show yourwillpower, your ability to think for yourself and not give in to the pressures around you. And to keep all your brain cells intact. And you should say yes to all those things.”
    â€œYeah, Pete Moss, you don’t have any brain cells to spare,” I had said. The class laughed. Pete Moss showed me his iq score by holding up a middle finger in my direction.
    Ever since that day, Chill agreed to do whatever Ms. Surette asked of him, often before she could finish asking.
    â€œBecause,” Chill said, “if she’s asking it, it’s going to be a challenge or an opportunity.”
    And in this case, it was both.
    â€œThe school is going to be doing a mural this semester,” Ms. Surette told him. “I’d like you to design an entry, something that will inspire your fellow students. Are you interested?”
    â€œYes,” Chill said.
    â€œYou’ll be going against the seniors, but I think you’ve got a great chance if you work hard at it, and I know you will.”
    Chill humbly lowered his head while nodding thanks.
    â€œYou should do a self-portrait,” I told him. He didn’t hear me. He’d already taken out his sketchpad and started to work.
    What he didn’t know, what neither of us knew, was that his true inspiration had yet to arrive, but when it did, it would change the face of the school in ways no one could have foreseen.

Chapter Two
    Second period was English. Because I wanted to be a writer I should have loved English, but I didn’t. I couldn’t understand why schools say that they want kids to read more and then make us study books that are guaranteed to turn any kid off literature for good.
    They make us study the plays of a guy who’s been dead for a few hundred years,written in a language that might as well be Klingon. If we rent the movie, it’s considered cheating, which is ridiculous because plays were written to be performed and watched, not read.
    The other books we’re made to study don’t have anyone near our age in them and don’t take place in a time anywhere near our own. How can I relate to the 1930s when I’m still trying to figure out how to relate to the time I’m living in?
    Replace Shakespeare with film study, poetry with lyrics, Steinbeck with Rowling— then maybe you might keep our interest. But we all know that’s not going to be happening anytime soon.
    Sometimes you’ll get a teacher, one of those teachers like Ms. Surette, who finds a way to take the works