Gary used to be the kid I loved to hate. In fifth grade he was The New Kid and you'd think I'd feel sympathetic toward him because it wasn't so long ago that I was a new student myself. But he garnered none of my symphathy.
He was all kinds of awkward. Loud voice. Glasses like aviator shades but with powerful and clear lenses. Braces and the sloppy saliva-filled mouth-speak that comes with it. Skinny. Tall. Talkative. Always raised his hand in class and got full marks for participation. I didn't like him.
I'd see him in passing throughout middle school; he might've been in a few of my classes over those years but I only paid attention to the attractive handful of boys in my grade, wistfully doodling their initials into the margins of my notes. Sometime between then and 10th grade he got accustomed to his gawkiness-- it was probably because he joined the track and/or cross country and/or swim team.
In my sophomore year of high school he was assigned to sit right next to me in the far left corner of our geometry class. Over that year we gradually...well, I think "bonded" is too strong a word, but we grew accustomed to each other through our mutual strong dislike of our teacher. The whole class disliked our teacher, and sometimes I could feel waves of contempt as he fumbled with giving tests and assignments back to the wrong person. He never did quite learn all of our names. Gary and I spent much of the class trading insulting comments about our teacher, and every bad grade was turned back on how our teacher failed to properly teach the subject matter and how he rejected our proofs which were, in our minds, perfectly legitimate.
I recently came across this article, which discusses how people are brought together by mutual dislikes. I immediately thought about Gary and how I wouldn't have thought much of him if we weren't forced to sit next to each other and endure that loathsome teacher.
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