There's Always a Brutus

There’s going to be a smelly kid. And he’s going to sit right by your desk.

But, you’re not going to notice it. Not right away. For the first couple of days, you’re going to sit there; eyebrows furrowed wondering “Where is that smell coming from?” And then “Is that me? Do I smell?” The nose will dip down toward the armpit, and the furrow between the brows will turn into a crevasse not unlike the Mariana Trench. I thought I put deodorant on… I haven’t even been in front of the class yet, and I’m not THAT nervous… God, what is that smell?

The first days are brutal. The kids make more ruckus than an army of baboons, and there are always more of them than you expect. You glance up, and before your eyes they seem to multiply. Like bacteria. So before they split again, you memorize their names, their best friends (for the moment), and the members of the opposite sex that they like to stare longingly at. And, right in the middle of all the hubbub, there it is again. That smell, wafting through the air, headed straight for your nose.

And suddenly, the light bulb goes on. It’s not you, its Brutus (lets call him Brutus, shall we?). It’s been Brutus all along! Joy! You feel like dancing in the ocean, or skipping through fields of flowers. It’s not me! It’s not me! The stench isn’t me!

Then, you realize why he’s by your desk. None of the other students want to sit by him. He disgusts them. They won’t even sit in his chair if he’s absent. So, the poor student sits by you, his only friend. And herein lies part II of the problem: Brutus is the type of student who wants to be by the teacher. Close to the teacher. As close to the teacher as the rules of school would allow. He brings you gifts. He wants to do things for you. You, his only friend.

As his only friend, don’t you have an obligation to tell him that, well, he smells? But how do you do that? How do you tell a kid that he reeks like he’s been swimming in the sewers without offending him? Brutus is a hard working student, and a nice young lad after all. You don’t want to upset him. You just don’t want him, or his fetid stench, clinging to you. You just want him to learn. To bathe.

Of course, you haven’t begun teaching yet. You may need Brutus as the weeks go on. Because it’s possible, that just as Brutus isn’t aware of his ghastly aroma, you aren’t aware of yours. As a person, you’re fantastic, but as a teacher—you stink.