Unruly children that they were, they always hid under their desks. When they began to push against the rest of the class -- and one of them even disregarded school tradition of wearing white and donned a black suit one day -- I knew their "wisdom" had no place on our premises anymore.
It was time to extract them both from my classroom.
But I couldn't do it alone. I needed a pro to do the deed quickly and cleanly. That's how I first heard of Soleymani, a man with a track record of doing jobs like these so cleanly and quickly that those who know him honor him by calling him doctor. Dr. Soleymani, then -- I decided he was the one for the business. When I presented my case to him, he agreed to take it on.
So we set a plan in motion: I'd show up at his office at 9 a.m. on a Friday, and within the hour, he'd be rid of them both. That way, I'd have the weekend to bury their tracks. And so it happened. The next day, I reached his office, and after about an hour's wait, I was alone with Dr. S and his assistant. Dr. S clipped a picture of the class up on his whiteboard, and he pointed out the culprits -- two crooked children conducting mischief in the last two seats on the right side of the class.
We discussed the game plan. But when time came for me to issue the final OK, suddenly I balked. Sure, Dr. S felt he knew the kids inside and out after seeing that top-secret picture, but still, didn't he even want to take a little peek inside the actual classroom at all first? I mean, how can you judge both kids as misfits offhand like that? OK about the kiddo dressed in black -- that one's too far gone -- but what about the other one? Shouldn't we put more faith in our youth? Shouldn't we try to lead them back on the straight path first before giving up on them completely?
Dr. S disagreed. There was no hope for either one of them, he insisted. And if we were to just remove both now, we'd cut our losses and never look back. After some negotiations, I gave in. I asked him for a list of expenses needed for the job, and at least his requests were reasonable: $200 for the black one, $150 for the misguided one. We had a deal.
And then the procedure began. "How long will it take?" I asked nervously and waited. "45 minutes tops," he said. With that, I closed my eyes. I was ready to say goodbye.
Ten minutes later, I opened my eyes again. "We're done," said Dr. S and patted me on the shoulder. "That's it?" I asked in surprise. "That's it." I had felt the initial violence, but soon after that, it became more of a hum, a drowsy awareness of what was happening. And now it was over. The kids were gone forever. And it was time for me to go back and continue life with the rest of the classroom -- uninterrupted.
We felt their absence the first day, and in their honor, we couldn't eat for the whole day. But slowly, our wounds are healing. Life goes on, without those kids.
I don't think about them much anymore, although at lunch or snack time sometimes, a slight tingling sensation reminds me of their absence. Perhaps it's just the fact that I'm not used to a class of only 28 still. But thanks to Dr. S, all 28 and me can live and grow in peace.
As for Soleymani himself, I never saw him again -- and probably never will. But were you to come to me today and tell me you've the same problem I did, I'd certainly recommend him. Just be sure to ask a lot of questions, because with jobs like these, you want to know exactly what you're getting into and how to deal right after. read more