The Elephant

I.
It was six men of Indostan
    To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
    (Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
    Might satisfy his mind.

Hisao had hardly been gone for a couple of minutes when I heard someone run by behind us, followed by Hisao hurrying up to the desk again, oddly out of breath for someone having just run from the back of the room.

"Did you see a girl run past here?" he panted. If anything, I'd only seen her pass by the corner of my eye, so I asked him what she looked like, not sure how I could help. "She had long, dark hair and...um...scars on her face?" he said. You could hear in his voice he was hesitant as to whether this was a socially appropriate description, but whether it was or not, it was clear who he was talking about.

"You wouldn't be talking about Hanako, would you?" Lilly asked, fishing in her schoolbag for her cane.

"Yes, that's her," he replied, and I could see in his face that he sensed Lilly's worry as well. "She was in the back reading, and I tried to talk to her, but I guess I scared her off or something?"

"Oh dear. Yuuko, if you'd excuse me, I'd better go find her."

"Sure," I told her, "I'll just hold the books until you get back." Hisao looked about as worried as Lilly by then, and asked what was going on, but she apologized and told him she'd explain later as she hurried out to the hallway, leaving us alone.

Hisao's shoulders slumped and he sighed, "I don't think I'll ever get the hang of this place..." He turned to face me and blurted out, "Did I do something wrong?"

I shrugged. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I was just looking for some books and she freaked out and ran off. The worst I might have done was to look in her general direction a few times."

Obviously since Hisao was new he couldn't know about Hanako. She didn't seem to have any friends beyond Lilly, and while I don't think it was because any of the students were particularly unfriendly, Hanako seemed to have a lot of anxiety about personal interaction. "Well, she is a very timid girl," I told Hisao. "She can be jumpy sometimes, and I don't think she's accustomed to talking to others much."

If anything, Hisao looked more confused. "Isn't that sort of, um, strange?"

"I don't know," I said, "It's just how she is, I think."

Now Hisao appeared frustrated. "How do I deal with these people? If I force myself to act casual, it feels phony, but it's like I'm supposed to be ignoring the elephant in the room!"

I knew I should say something, but what? "I think it's an elephant only if you feel that way." For some reason, this made Hisao smile after a short pause. "Did I say something stupid?" I asked.

"No, it sounded really wise, actually. I guess it's more about me than anybody else."

It made me feel a little nervous again, but in more of a good way. I've had people tell me I'm nice, and sometimes even smart, but "wise"? That's not one I hear too often.

Sometimes I wonder, though. Elephant or not, there are certainly things we don't talk about that nonetheless are still there. Many of the students at Yamaku have disabilities that are immediately apparent, while others are at this school for nothing obvious to the outside observer. (I never found out what Hisao's reason for attending Yamaku might have been.) But even those of us without some limitation that might be termed a "disability" have things that potentially hold us back from reaching our full potential in life, don't we?

Maybe the real elephant in the room is that for many of us, struggling to understand disabled teenagers in a fictional high school is the only way we can come to recognize the way in which life can often seem to make emotional cripples of each and every one of us.