The Disciple MD
It happened many years ago, yet it is still fresh in my conscience, and from timeto time it appears on the “stage” of my mind. It happened on an otherwiseinnocuous day during high school. It was the fifth-period English class, and wehad a substitute for the day. You know how “well” those classes end up going.No one listens; no one cares. The poor teacher is subject to all kinds ofabuse! This class was no exception. The woman substitute teacher was trying herbest to maintain order, but as soon as she turned her back to write on theboard, a student would throw something at another student, or, even worse,knock over one of the empty desks. It would make a loud crashing noise as ithit the floor. The teacher would quickly turn around but was never quick enoughto catch the perpetrator. Finally, with her voice raised in frustration andanger, she said, “The next person who knocks over a desk is going to be thrownout of class and will report to the principal’s office! She turned and started writing on the chalkboard. In the rownext to me were a couple of students, an empty desk, then another studentappeared to be sleeping, then a few more students. I watched as a friend ofmine, who was seated behind the sleeping student, stretched his foot out as faras he could, around the sleeper, and pushed the empty desk over. As the deskbegan to fall, he quickly got back into his seat. The desk crashed to thefloor. The sound of the crash awoke the student who was sleeping, so that whenthe teacher turned around, the once slumbering classmate had his head up. Theteacher erupted in anger and started to shout at the innocent kid. The studenttried to defend himself and stated his innocence, but the teacher was sofrazzled by then that she was in no mood for explanations. She told him toleave the class and report to the principal’s office. He stormed out of theroom, pleading his innocence. It seemed that the joke was on the teacher!Still, I sat there…. and so did everyone else. No one came to his defense.Perhaps he had no friends in the class, I don’t know. I just know that afterthe moment passed, and I did nothing, it became less funny. And so it is, some40 years later, that I still remember the incident. The memory doesn’t reflectwell on my character. I wasn’t “standing tall” that day. Whenever I hear the words “stand tall,” I think of Gordon B.Hinckley, who said: “Stand a little taller and work a little harder and value alittle greater the marvelous blessing which you have….You and I are sons anddaughters of God, with something of divinity within us. Let us grow in faithand faithfulness before the world. (Gordon B. Hinckley, “InspirationalThoughts,” Liahona, Apr 2002). To the youth, he once said: “Stand tall, do what is right, count on the Lord, and He willbless you in a wonderful way.” What was the cost of a false accusation? I don’t know the answerfor the innocent classmate of mine, but I can imagine. I’ve been falselyaccused of things in my life. Not only does it sting, but it stays with you forlife. For me, that event holds for me a memory of a moment in my lifewhen I lacked the courage to stand up for the right. Those kinds of memoriesare not precious in my mind. Sometimes we are caught off guard and wish we hadthe quickness of mind to react differently. And perhaps, I was just being anormal kid in sitting in silence. But why does that experience stay with me. Ithink it is because I know that I allowed my character to be “substituted” thatday with something called “fear of man.” If I examine my life, I know I haveallowed pear pressure, even as an adult to influence my life in ways I am notproud of. I would hope that as adults,we have overcome our fear of others and the ‘peer pressure’ we felt as youth.But alas, the natural man is hard to overcome. It is a constant battle tocourageously “stand tall” and do the right thig. But it’s a battle worth waging!
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