The professor is so angry that she orders me to do two laps of the field.
Inside, I explode with joy.
I go for a run putting on a mask of defiance well, hoping it will make her alter a little more and hoping it will force me to run two more laps.
“Two rounds now!” he says.
I am in high school, first gymnasium. Count it as spring, and as far as I’m concerned you can blame hormones, the fact that I was born with the economic crisis, clueless professors, punk culture. Blame it all you want but one thing is clear: I hate to play. I don’t think about the future, I have no interest in much of the talk my classmates give me, my anger is a virgin, so am I. My selfishness is sincere, my individuality sacred. I internalized neither the pleasure of following established rules nor the reverent fear of authority.
Next to me, the other four boys in the class convinced the teacher to give them half an hour to play soccer. One of the five is also happy to be in goal. We’ll be two against two, the best for all of them, if there wasn’t the problem that I’m too restless, and I’ve ruined their plans again this time, pissing off Prof. So they’ll have to play two against two, empty-goal. I walk toward the corner, waffling, looking angry, sorry, and puzzled.
Punishments are meaningless unless they cause discomfort.
I don’t know how to run these two laps of the field. Running them fast is curative, but they burn out quickly. Going slow provides too little wind in the face; running brings pleasure when you take your legs to the limit.
What to do, run two at a rather slow pace, make one thundering and one slow that can last a little while?
I’m thinking about it as the second round of the field is already ending, stupid little indoor school arenas in provincial towns. If only he would send me out for punishment and I could run in the open air.
For what reason is the punishment to run laps? Why is running not considered a decent activity, like playing soccer or the stupid somersaults on mattresses that they force us to do? Turning somersaults or scarping a ball is an activity; running is a need.
Why do boys’ teachers and coaches associate running with something bad?
I don’t know that.
I go back from the start and restart, after the two punishment laps; I pass very fast for another lap, between squeals from Prof: so fast I can almost not hear her.