Missing the Big Picture by Donovan, Luke (great book club books txt) 📕

should only teach college-level English classes. Then she told her friends that the administration was making Ms. Carson “teach all the dumb kids.”

One of the biggest struggles that I’ve had to overcome during my life is to the tendency to prejudge or stereotype people. To avoid this, you must first ask, “Where do young children learn about stereotypes and labels?” The answer is in the schools. Every school has a reputation or a label, such as “special education” or “honors,” that goes along with each class. Students are separated by class averages, and while this might be the best way to group them, these classifications play a role in students’ perceptions of one another. When teachers like Ms. Carson only want to teach advanced-placement students, they create a decisive gap among classmates. If Ms. Carson didn’t want to teach average sophomore English students, why did she want to be a teacher? In the fall of 2001, amid all sorts of rumors, Ms. Carson didn’t return to the South Colonie School District. She later went to a nearby school district, where she taught mostly honors students.

In June, the voices in my mind began to clear up again. Occasionally, I would hear Eric’s and Carmine’s voices inside and outside of school. Our senior picnic was held on June 11, 2001. I was glad that six of the seven “mind-readers,” as I referred to them, were present, and I did not hear any of their voices. It wasn’t until later, when I was at home, that I heard Carmine’s voice. I remember saying to Carmine’s voice, “The picnic was fun.” Carmine’s voice responded, “I saw you there. You were just sitting there.”

I never talked to any of the boys in person about the voices I heard. The only person I talked to before I began to hear the voices was Sam, and I stopped talking to him after I began to hear his voice. I was even a little offended that he didn’t ask me to sign his yearbook. I still thought that the voices I heard were real, and I would get in fights over it with my psychiatrist and mother.

On June 20, 2001, two days before high school graduation, eight weeks since the infamous “hell week” when I began to hear voices at home as well as at school, Carmine’s voice suddenly disappeared at five o’clock. I remember it because I thought it was unusual that for eight weeks prior, five o’clock was when I heard Carmine’s voice outside of school. That would be the last time that I would hear any voice in my mind—at least for a while.

Despite all of the difficulties that I had at Colonie Central High School, I am proud of my alma mater and strongly believe that I made the right choice in attending public school. Academically, I did benefit because I entered college as a sophomore. In fact, on the first day of college I already had earned twenty-eight college credits from taking so many advanced-placement courses and courses offered through SUNY Albany and Hudson Valley Community College. If I had stayed at Saint John’s, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to earn so many college credits. I was able to graduate college a semester early, while still earning a double major. If I had stayed at Saint John’s, I wouldn’t have graduated early and would have had the added expense of another semester of school.

Socially, sure, there was difficulty. For a few years after high school, if I saw one Eric’s friends or somebody I didn’t like, I still felt awkward and angry. When I was twenty-six, a co-worker asked a former classmate if she knew me and apparently she laughed and said she thought I was strange. This girl was, of course, a friend of Eric’s. When I was twenty-seven, I started working with a former classmate who told my co-workers that she went to high school with me. When another coworker said, “Oh, you went to high school with Luke—that’s cool,” my former classmate rolled her eyes.

Everybody in high school assumed I hated Eric and his friends for all the drama that they caused. Looking past the adolescent immaturity, most of the people I graduated with were very bright and kind people, at least on the inside. It’s a shame that the immaturity and social climate of high school forbids more teenagers from becoming friends with one another.

As for the boys who I thought could read my mind, I never ran into any of them after high school—with the exception of Tyler and Eric. In 2004, I saw Tyler at my gym. The first time I saw him I ran, afraid his voice would come back. But it didn’t, and I was able to see him many times at the gym without feeling the strange sensation that we were communicating to each other telepathically.

I graduated on June 22, 2001. I saw Eric, Carmine, and all of my other enemies there. But that night, nothing bothered me. I was as high as a kite floating on cloud nine. When my name was called, instead of shaking hands with all of the school officials, I gave them all bear hugs. As my mother said, “He is so happy to get out of high school.” After the reception was over, the National Honor Society advisor asked where my white hood was; white hoods were worn by all of the NHS students. I wasn’t issued a hood by accident. My initial reaction was to get upset. Then, I thought to myself, Why get upset? High school is over!

CHAPTER 5

COLLEGE—THE BREAK

Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were.

—Chérie Carter-Scott

On August 24, 2001, I said good-bye to Colonie, New York, and left to attend college at SUNY Geneseo. I didn’t know what to expect. When I look back at the times that I had