Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 9

CHAPTER NINE: SUFFERING PEOPLE

Prof. McGonagall gave us all a notice.

As she gave them to each of us, she explained, “Please make sure that your parents can at least find a time to attend this Wednesday evening’s PTA meeting.”

But Prof. McGonagall treats me real nice. She told me, “I know your mother is busy selling her waffles, Ronald. She can be exempted.”

So I folded the notice and put it into my bag.

On Thursday, when Mother checked my bag and found the notice, she said angrily, “Why didn’t you tell me that there’s a PTA meeting yesterday?”

I replied, “The professor said you don’t have to go. Besides there were a lot of parents arguing. It was so friggin’ noisy, you’d be glad you didn’t go.”

Just the thought about yesterday made me quite afraid.

There were a lot of parents in school yesterday. They flipped through our books and exam papers and were standing around Prof. McGonagall chitchatting. I was going back and forth getting water for them to drink. Harry Scarface’s godfathers were there too—one who looked very handsome with long hair tied into a ponytail and another with dark brown hair and was wearing something that looked like it was bought from a flea market.

Then there came a father who smelt rather strong of the perfume Father wore. He was Draco’s father. He wore a very well ironed suit and a pair of shiny shoes, with a black cane to match, and didn’t want to sit on our chair. Prof. McGonagall told me to wipe the chair clean and asked him to sit down.

Draco was at the corridor playing ball and didn’t dare to come in. Mr. Malfoy said, “My boy Draco is a little arrogant and likes to have things his own way.”

Prof. McGonagall nodded.

Mr. Malfoy said immediately, “But he’s a smart boy, just a little careless.”

Prof. McGonagall nodded again.

“Oh yes, Draco told me,” Mr. Malfoy took out a really neat handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his nose before continuing, “that you have a retard in your class. How can this be?”

He shook his head and said, “This is very unfair, professor. Think about the other children here. It’s a very bad influence. You should be complaining to the Headmaster about this.”

Prof. McGonagall replied, “That’s not true. Yes, I don’t deny we have a mentally challenged student here, but he’s a good boy and means no harm…”

Before she could finish, Mr. Malfoy cut in, “Well, unfortunately, it’s a matter of quality here. If you have a retard in your class, how can you teach any better…”

Again, someone else cut off Mr. Malfoy’s words. It was Hermione Granger’s mother saying, “Excuse me, sir, don’t you think you’re a little bias here…”

Later, the more they talked, the more I couldn’t understand. Also, they’ve finished drinking their water, so I had to go get some more.

When I came back, I saw Prof. McGonagall’s nose quite red, as if she had just cried a great deal. Mr. Malfoy’s face was red with anger and his smooth forehead seemed to grow a lot of wrinkles as he stomped out of the classroom. Harry Scarface’s godfathers didn’t look too happy either. Mrs. Granger’s nose was also red as she shook her head with a hanky near her mouth, muttering, “How cruel…How heartless he is…”

Harry Scarface pulled me out of the classroom and told me, “You better not go in, Ron. They’re all arguing because of you.”

I was shocked. I don’t even know a single one of them. I only met them today.

“Oh, don’t mind about them. This had nothing to do with you,” Harry Scarface smiled a very small smile, but I didn’t think he was actually happy.

OK, they were arguing because of me, but it had nothing to do with me; I don’t get it.

“I don’t get it either,” Harry Scarface lifted his shoulders and sighed.

Soon, all the parents went home. Prof. McGonagall told us to come in and arrange the tables and chairs back in order. She looked at me and said, “Ronald Weasley, if only you know you’re suffering so much right now.”

I know what ‘suffer’ means. It has something to do with crying. But I’m not crying. Prof. McGonagall and Mrs. Granger are the ones crying.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: IT’S ALL PRETEND

The Math teacher Prof. Snape, my class teacher Prof. McGonagall and I were in the office. The office had air-conditioning, and it felt great.

Prof. Snape smoothed his shoulder-length hair, opened my Math exercise book and said to Prof. McGonagall, “I cannot stand this kind of student.”

Prof. McGonagall said quietly, “I know you’re a Mathematics Master. I can’t really do anything. He’s born slow; you can’t blame him for that.”

Prof. Snape looked at me and asked me in his cold tone, “Have you heard and understood anything that I have been teaching, Weasley?”

I shook my head and said, “I heard, but I don’t understand.”

Of all the classes, I understood Math class the least, ‘coz I couldn’t find a single word I could write in my book. There were loads of numbers, but they were all jumping here and there and never followed in line like 1, 2 and 3.

Math class definitely is the most boring.

Prof. Snape pushed his hair back and said, “I refuse to believe that I cannot teach him. The great educator Watson once said, ‘I can teach any child’. I believe I can.”

So he told me to come to his office every recess to give me a little tuition. Harry Scarface patted my shoulder and said, “Work hard, Ron.”

I took my textbook, my exercise book and my pencil case and walked all the way to the office. Prof. Snape just finished eating his lunch. He cleaned his mouth and told me to recite the timetable.

I’ve forgotten all of them.

Prof. Snape gave me a small board and told me to memorize it everyday. He thought for a while and said, “Actually, you can use a calculator. Can you use one, Weasley?”

I shook my head.

“I shall teach you next time.”

Then he opened the textbook, wrote some numbers on a paper and said to me, “For now, I’ll teach you about division.”

He drew a huge circle, then drew a few lines on the circle and told me, “Imagine that this circle is a huge biscuit, or an orange, and cut them into eight pieces. Try counting them.”

I counted the pieces and he was right; there are eight pieces. Prof. Snape is really smart.

“If you eat off a piece, it’s called ‘an eighth’. One out of eight. Get it? Repeat after me, an eighth.”

So I said, “An eighth.”

Later, Prof. Snape told me to eat off two-eighth, three-eighth…of course, this is all pretend.

“This is called division, understand?”

I quickly nodded.

Prof. Snape then drew another circle, and, like cutting a cake, he drew two lines.

“Now it’s cut into four pieces. If you eat off one piece, what do you call it?”

I thought very, very hard and stared very, very long at the circle on that paper. Prof. Snape must’ve waited a long time for he finally said, “It’s called ‘a quarter’.”

Then he asked me to eat off two-quarter, three-quarter…again, of course, this is all pretend.

I spent that whole afternoon pretending to eat biscuits.

When the bell rang, Prof. Snape said, “Very well, we shall continue tomorrow.”

So I went back to class.

Once I got home, I followed exactly how Prof. Snape drew his circles. Somehow it made me feel smart. I went over to the fridge and took out an orange and cut them into pieces. Then I ate off a piece, but I forgot what it was called. I ate the second piece, the third piece…and in the end I’ve ate up everything.

When Ginny asked me what I was doing, I said, “I’m practicing Math. Go away. Don’t bother me.”

Why is it that we have to pretend eating biscuits in Math class? I just don’t get it.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 7

CHAPTER SEVEN: A USELESS PAPER

Whenever there’s a class meeting, it would definitely be noisy.

Hermione had her hands on her waist, stood in front of the class and asked, “Then how else do you want it then?”

Prof. McGonagall was at her desk marking our books and paid no attention to us. During class meetings, she never bothered and asked us to solve our own problems. So we often argue. In the end, Prof. McGonagall would say, “One more argument and it’s curtains for this meeting.” And Hermione would follow up and say, “Alright, just do what I say.”

And that was the end of it.

Harry Scarface would say, “This is such a joke. What an insufferable know-it-all.”

I don’t know what joke Hermione said—there’s nothing funny about it—but I listen to every word she says, and whenever we needed to vote for something, I would always raise my hand.

Just like today, she was asking, “Those who vote for Ronald Weasley to be the Student of the Month raise your hand.”

I quickly raised my hand.

Draco exclaimed, “Thick-faced weasel! You dare vote for yourself?”

Hermione exclaimed even louder, “And why not? Ronald Weasley had been carrying water for us, sweeping the floor, taking out the garbage and picking up after us for the entire month now. If he doesn’t deserve this award, who does?”

She was actually talking about me.

Hermione continued, “The student council had laid down the line that every class must have a candidate to receive the award next Monday’s assembly. We have to decide on one today.”

When no one else said anything, Hermione said, “Alright, just do what I say,” and it was done.

“But that weasel is a retard. Can he even go up the stage to receive the award?” Draco asked the whole class, “If he were to pee on stage, do we need the Headmaster to help change his nappies?”

The whole class was laughing.

I was a little angry. He may meant it to be funny but in truth, I don’t wear nappies anymore.

Harry Scarface banged the table loudly, “Objection! Objection! Verbal assault on fellow classmate! Guilty!”

Hermione went up to Draco and pointed at him, saying, “Alright, if you think you’re so smart, you go ahead and take Ronald Weasley’s place on stage for the award.”

Draco immediately shook his head and shouted, “No way! Why should I go help the weasel get his lousy award?”

They began to argue loudly. Prof. McGonagall looked up and scolded, “What’s all the fuss about here?”

Hermione immediately reported, “We picked Ronald Weasley to be the Student of the Month and asked for Draco to represent for the award.”

Prof. McGonagall thought for a while and said, “Why don’t you let Ronald have a try?”

They then told me to go up front, pretend to receive a piece of drawing paper from Hermione and bow. I wanted to laugh out loud, but I can’t. I held out my hand real straight, took the paper and put it under my left arm like Hermione taught me before bowing down to her like a chicken.

“Just like that, Ronald. It’s a no-brainer,” Hermione said.

That Monday assembly, Hermione took me in front of the stage, lining up with everyone else. She told me, “Later when the council president calls your name, go up there and do what I’ve taught you to do, OK?”

During the hoisting of the flag I was sweating like mad. But I’ve waited like forever, yet still the president didn’t call my name. I keep hearing him say, “First Year-Slytherdor, First Year-Slytherdor. No one? Has he or she called in sick or something? Let the class monitor represent him or her then.”

Then I saw Hermione running up the stage to take the award. I smiled at her.

Maybe they’ve changed the vote, but it’s OK.

Back in class, Hermione gave me the piece of paper she took from the Headmaster and said, “You should’ve gone up when they called for First Year-Slytherdor. Oh, never mind. Here’s your award.”

That piece of paper had a lot of words on it. I didn’t like it. Drawing paper is much better. At least I can draw stuff on both sides of it.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 6

CHAPTER SIX: FOR HARRY SCARFACE

Why and how did Harry Scarface have his scar, I don’t really know how to say. He told me before that it was some terrible car accident that caused it, and it was also the cause of his parents’ death. I remember him telling me that he now lives with his two godfathers, whatever that means, and also him saying, “We both are bad-lucked people; you got bad luck by birth and I got bad luck by fate.”

I’m glad that we’re both bad-lucked. I think of Harry Scarface as a brother. He treats me very well and would always buy me soft drinks. If anyone calls me a ‘retard’, he would glare at him or her angrily.

But he was very, very afraid of P.E. class. If I had one lung smaller than the other, I’d be afraid. That was also another place he got hurt from his car accident. When you run with one lung smaller than the other, it slows you down, and the pain inside would make your face look weird.

The weird thing is whenever the P.E. teacher Prof. Hooch said, “You don’t have to run. Go rest under the tree,” Harry Scarface would be very angry and he was say in a very, very low voice, “I can run.”

So during every P.E. class, I accompanied Harry Scarface. Usually I can run very fast, and it’s rather hard for me to run slow. So I grit my teeth, slow down my breathing and jumped with every step. That should slow me down a little.

Harry Scarface laughed at me and said, “You run like someone trying to walk on pins and needles!”
I replied, “You run like there’s a scar on your face!”

“No duh! I am a scarface!”

During dodge ball, I would stand beside Harry Scarface. Whenever there’s a ball thrown to us, I would block it for him. But so far, for the whole period, no one threw any ball at us, so we end up chitchatting instead.

One day, Prof. Hooch said there was going to be a test. She blew the whistle and told us, “Everyone has to run around the field once and I shall time you.”

So everyone went running according to his or her names. She told Harry Scarface and I to run last so that there won’t be any waste of time. I think Prof. Hooch is very nice.

When it was our turn, Draco kept complaining, “Come on, professor, let us go back to class. Are we gonna just wait until they finish running by the next millennium?”

Prof. Hooch glared fiercely at him and said, “There is always something for you to complain about, isn’t it?”

Harry Scarface stood at the starting line and said to me softly, “Ron, this is a class with marks. Don’t accompany me, just run,” he then thought for a while and continued, “You don’t have much marks on your other subjects, so you can’t afford to fail P.E. class.”

I nodded.

As Prof. Hooch blew the whistle, Harry Scarface and I started running. He was running as hard as he could and his face was wrinkled up real tight. It looked rather funny. But I didn’t laugh; because I know he was trying his very best.

But I did hear the other classmates laughing at him. I looked at him and saw his mouth closed up real tight and sweat falling from his forehead into his eyelashes. If they didn’t know what I saw, they might think he was crying.

“Run, Ronald Retard!” Harry Scarface yelled at me. “Don’t wait for me, run!”

So I did.

I ran past the first year classes, past the assembly stage, then past Prof. Hooch. Almost a moment later, I ran past Harry Scarface. His face still looked wrinkled up.

I heard Prof. Hooch calling me from behind, “Hey! One round is enough! Come back! That’s enough!”

I still ran past the first year classes, past the assembly stage, then towards Prof. Hooch.

“You retard! Didn’t I just say round the field once? What was the second round for?” Prof. Hooch scolded me real bad.

I was gasping for breath as I answered her, “That second round was for Harry Scarface, ma’am.”

Harry Scarface was still running towards the flagpoles.

Prof. Hooch suddenly laughed and shook her head, “You’re such…”

She didn’t call me a ‘retard’.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 5

CHAPTER FIVE: I MADE A FLOWER

“Come on, professor! We’re not babies anymore! This is high school!” Draco was complaining loudly again at our Arts teacher.

Today our Arts teacher, Prof. Trelawney gave us a red wrinkly paper and told us that we’re going to make a carnation as a present for our mothers on Mothers’ Day.

Prof. Trelawney glared at Draco and asked, “Being a high-schooler doesn’t mean you don’t have to honour your mother. Your mother wasted her life raising you!”

Draco didn’t say anything more. He lowered his head and cut hard on the paper with his pair of scissors.

I like Arts class. I took my pair of scissors and cut my piece of paper carefully. The idea is to cut sharp edges around them and tie them all up o make it into a shape of a flower.

But my paper did not become a flower but four pieces of torn paper. Prof. Trelawney walked to my class, took a look and said, “You’ve cut it the wrong way.”

Prof. Trelawney’s nice. She took my paper and helped me cut the way it should, then told me to tie it myself.

I tried to hold the paper stacked above each other like a sandwich and tie them up just like everyone else. They make it look so easy, but my paper felt rather weird. They just won’t stay where they should be.

“Ronald, come here. You hold and I’ll tie them for you,” Hermione came over to me with a piece of metal string in her hand.

My face was feeling quite warm when I held the paper and let her help me tie the metal string round and round my hand. She’s so pretty and so kind; I really wanted to invite her to my house for waffles and ask Mother to pour her three big spoonfuls of maple syrup.

But I didn’t dare say a word. After tying it, she pulled and stretched and arranged a couple more and soon my paper became a nice big flower.

“You must give this flower to your mother, understand?” So saying, she taught me that once I handed the flower to Mother I must say “Happy Mothers’ Day”.

She told me to repeat it a few times, and after making sure that I’ve memorized it, she walked away.
Harry Scarface had finished his flower too. His was way bigger than mine, almost as big as a soup bowl. He didn’t have parents anymore—both of them went to Heaven—but he made it all the same. He said something about wanting to put them at his mother’s resting place. I know what ‘resting place’ means. It’s where people die and sleep under the ground for a very, very long time. That’s where Grandpa and Grandma sleep. Harry Scarface said, “My mother isn’t alive anymore, but I know she suffered a lot for me.”

I know what ‘suffer’ means too. It’s got something to do with crying.

He then said to me, “Your mother must have suffered a lot for you.”

I know she’d ‘suffered’ a lot. She cried a lot when I was younger, but I don’t remember for what though. She was always crying and crying and crying and finally stopped when I went to first grade. I still don’t remember what she was crying for.

After school, I held the flower in my hand and kept on memorizing, “Happy Mothers’ Day.” Draco passed by me and threw his flower into the trashcan.

He turned to look at me and said, “Hurry home and give that stinking flower to your mother, you retard, so that she can feed you some baby milk!”

Maybe he didn’t know that I don’t drink baby milk anymore. Now I eat waffles. Could it be that he had no mother? Why did he throw away the flower?

But I didn’t stop to ask him. If I say anything else I might forget the “Happy Mothers’ Day” that I’ve memorized.

Once I’m home, I saw Mother making waffles and three customers in the shop. I held out my paper flower to her and said, “Happy Mothers’ Day.”

Mother seemed shocked when she took the flower and put it in her apron pocket.

One of the customers said, “What a nice boy you have!”

“Oh, pish-posh! Just as long as he doesn’t aggravate me to death,” Mother replied, but she was smiling when she said that.

The next day I saw Mother’s apron gone all red. It was then I knew the paper’s colour came off and it dyed Mother’s apron into a mess of red. I told that to Mother, but she said, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

She took out the paper flower and stared at it for a while before putting it back into her pocket. And for the next few days, it stayed in her pocket.

Next time I’ll make her another flower.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 4

CHAPTER FOUR: CIRCLE ALL THE A-s

To tell the truth, I’m not afraid of being scolded. But if someone scolds me about something I don’t know or understand, I’ll be very afraid.

Like that day, Prof. McGonagall looked rather furious, and I grew scared. The whole class must be scared because their heads were low and everyone was quiet.

Prof. McGonagall’s voice was very high and loud, not like the usual. She was shouting as she flipped the test papers on her table, yelling, “75, 58, 33, 40…Humph! What kind of result is this!”

She flipped the last paper and her voice was as high as those Chinese opera singers when she cried, “Zero! A huge empty zero! Ronald Weasley, why are you in my class!”

How am I supposed to know? The school put me here.

Again, she exclaimed, “For this revision exam, our First Year-Slytherdor got the last place among all the classes, thanks a lot to Ronald Weasley.”

As she threw the paper off her table, she looked as if she wanted to burst into big fat tears, “I get laughed and mocked at by the other professors…I’m so jinxed…”

I might be scared but I have to get the paper back. It was the test on Math and on it, other than my name, was a total blank.

I wanted to write something. I really do. I just didn’t know what to write. I thought long and hard, but by the time I got an idea of what to write, the bell had rung and my paper was taken away.

During recess, Prof. McGonagall didn’t look angry anymore. She drank a whole glass of water, then signaled me to get some more.

She pointed at my test paper and said, “Tomorrow, there will be another monthly test, Ronald. I’ll teach you how not to get anymore zeros.”

It was quite easy, really. Just look for the parts that had the ABCD-s, then draw a circle on all the capital A-s and I’m done.

She chuckled to herself and said, “This is definitely a no-brainer. In every test paper, there would always be a multiple-choice question section, and in every multiple-choice question, some of them have got to have an A for an answer. That way, you might be able to guess a few; if you’re lucky, you might get even higher marks!”

I definitely can draw circles, so I promised her I’ll draw as well as I can.

For the next day’s test, my mood was great because I won’t be as bored as before. I finally had something to do. At every part with the ABCD-s, I drew a very round circle on the A-s. When I accidentally drew a crooked one, I erased it and drew again.

When it’s time to get back the papers, Prof. McGonagall wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, she was all smiles when she told the class, “I’m such a gifted teacher. Do you know how much Ronald Weasley got for his Math test, class?”

Then she announced loudly, “12! 3 correctly guessed questions for all multiple-choice sections! Ronald Weasley, you’re a genius!”

I laughed awkwardly.

The most awkward time was during Biology class. Prof. Sprout scolded the class, saying, “Multiple-choice question number 3, everyone got the wrong answer. Only Ronald Weasley got it right. Are you all retards?”

Draco Malfoy didn’t look very happy when he muttered, “That weasel only made a lucky guess.”

Prof. Sprout got even madder, “If you think you’ll do any better, then make your own lucky guess. If you get it right or wrong, your marks shows how lucky you are.”

I’m glad I could come to school and have teachers teaching me how to study and how to take exams. But I can’t be too proud.

I know what ‘proud’ means. It means someone saying that they understand everything. I can’t be proud, because I know I don’t understand anything.

Harry Scarface said, “You know what, Ron? Some people don’t even understand that concept!”

See? I don’t even understand what Harry Scarface is trying to say.

Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 3

CHAPTER THREE: I HAVE TO STUDY HARD

Prof. McGonagall came to Mother’s waffle shop one day and kinda gave her a fright.

“I came for a family interview. Ronald must’ve forgotten to tell you.”

Mother turned and gave me a look, then sighed and said, “I know that kid’s a little dumb, but I told him to be good. If he’s naughty, feel free to beat him.”

Prof. McGonagall shook her head, “No, no, he’s very good. Although his mentality is not high—about 70, if I’m not mistaken—and belongs to the ‘Learning Deficiency’ category, but if he’s taught well, he can improve.”

Mother wiped her sweat a little and replied, “I hope you can teach him well. How about some waffles? You look like you need something for the stomach.”

Prof. McGonagall left without eating. Mother’s waffles are very good actually, especially when she pours two big spoonfuls of maple syrup.

As she watched Prof. McGonagall leave, Mother said to me, “See how much your professor cares for you, Ron? She even came to our home. She said you’re…well, whatever category was that she said, I forgot. You have to study hard if you want to improve.”

Like, no duh. Of course I want to study hard. Whenever class starts, I sit up real straight and listen real hard, but I don’t understand a friggin’ thing. I don’t even understand what is written on the blackboard. So sometimes I would fall asleep.

No more sleeping in class. I gotta start studying hard.

So I did. During Prof. Binns’ History class, I took out my textbook and pointed at the words with my finger, counting them one by one from left to right. Once I’ve reached a hundred, I counted again from one. I counted very hard and I never slept.

When Prof. Binns started writing words on the blackboard, the students began copying them into their books. So I quickly took out my pencil and looked hard. Finally I found three words that I know. I lowered my head and wrote big, one and man.

When I wanted to look for more words, Prof. Binns had already rubbed them off and wrote other stuff.

I drew beards on the people in my book with my pencil and drew guns for them. I know Mother is going to give me a wallop if she knew I drew these, so I quickly erased them. I tried looking for more words and found the same big, one and man words there. I quickly copied them on the next page.
For this class I didn’t fall asleep. I’m glad.

Harry Scarface said, “You can’t learn anything in a normal class. You should be in special class.”
“Mother said that there’s no special classes in seventh grade or any other high schools.”

“Then it’s the government’s fault, they owe you too much.” Hearing Harry Scarface say that kinda shocked me. But don’t worry, I won’t look for that ‘Mr. Government’ guy for revenge.

I said, “Prof. McGonagall came to my home that day and told Mother that if I study real hard, I can improve.”

I don’t know what ‘improve’ means, but I bet it’s a good thing.

Harry Scarface chuckled, “You are so naïve!”

I took out my book and showed him the words that I’ve copied in every page. Harry Scarface patted me on the shoulder and said, “Actually, judging by your heart, you’re way smarter than most people.”

I chuckled along with him. I like him patting my shoulder.