How to See in the Dark

It was the beginning of spring, and I was counting down the days until the end of eighth grade. Most of us in my class were what you might call "not particularly nice kids"—we didn't care much for authority, and we were quick to judge and mock those who were different from us. We all grew up in the same rough neighborhood, with little regard for our futures. But as the school year drew to a close, I found myself growing restless and dissatisfied with our aimless existence leading into high school.

One day after spring break, our previous teacher had been fired, and we had many different substitutes for the rest of the year. My friends and I sat. In class before the bell rang and speculated who the sub would be today.

 "Pst, hey Lee," my friend Richie said as he tapped my shoulder from behind, "It’s gonna be hard being teacher’s pet to all these subs, huh?" I rolled my eyes and adjusted my glasses - Richie was always looking for a way to get under my skin. He was a chubby kid with red hair and freckles who always annoyed everyone in class. His older brother was no better, and partially the reason our teacher was fired. Levy, Richie’s brother, was also in this class years ago and gave our teacher a hard time. It's safe to say that our teacher held a grudge, and Richie was a tiny clone of his older brother. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Richie continued as he snorted, “if they’re as hot as Mrs. Evans, I won’t have trouble staying awake in this bore-fest.”

 Our other friend Andy sat to my left with his Walkman in his ears and was drumming on his knees. He brushed his long, ratty hair out of his face, revealing a pale complexion and dark circles under his eyes. He wore a denim jacket with patches of his favorite rock bands and a faded band tee underneath. 

As the bell rang, the class grew silent, and we heard a tapping noise down the hallway. Murmurs and whispers began to rise as the noise grew closer to the classroom. An old man with receding gray hair walked through the door with a cane. He was well dressed, with a tweed coat and well-kempt, nicely combed hair. He had an awkward smile that glowed, and he kept his eyes closed as he found his way to the desk. We stared at him as he removed his coat and placed his briefcase on the desk. The teacher cleared his throat and turned his head up to face the class.

 "Morning, children," he exclaimed with a pristine smile held high.

 "Good morning," the rest of us limped in response.

 "My name is Mr. Dunn, I'll be your English literature substitute for the day. Would anyone like to tell me what books you've all been reading the past year?"

The class sat in silence, interrupted only by a couple of students who coughed or whispered to each other. Mr. Dunn broke the silence with a sarcastic remark, "Well, let's not all talk at once." 

I slowly raised my hand out of pure instinct before the class erupted in laughter behind me.

“He’s blind, you idiot!” Richie yelled out.

My face turned red, and I slumped into my chair. The class simmered down, and I felt a sense of relief as I heard Mr. Dunn’s calm laughter.

“I was waiting for someone to notice,” he said with a quaint chuckle. “Yes, children, I am blind. But with that being known, I assure you all that my imagination can paint pictures even more vivid than the reality that you can see.” 

Andy pulled down his headphones and brushed his long hair out of his face, “Hey, how’s this dude gonna grade papers?”

Some kids let out some laughs under their breaths. 

Mr. Dunn smiled before he continued, “First rule of my class: be careful when you talk. I hear everything.”

Everyone looked around at each other in confusion. 

“Young man!” Mr. Dunn called out while looking in my direction. 

I sat directly in front of the teacher’s desk. I turned around and looked at my classmates, who sat staring blank at me. I then turned back to Mr. Dunn. 

“Me?” I asked while pointing at myself. 

“I don’t see anyone else.” Mr. Dunn retorted with a smile, “What’s your name?”

“Lee, sir. Lee Chen.” 

“Well, Lee, what a pleasure it is to meet you. What book did you all leave off on?”

“Um, The Outsiders...”

“Fantastic book!” Mr. Dunn exclaimed, “What page did you all leave off on?”

We all sat reading the book, monotone and senseless. Our attention wasn’t on the pages but rather on Mr. Dunn’s movements as he flared his arms and paced back and forth in front of the class while he explained each part of the book like he was a preacher. His voice was gentle, yet firm, as he spoke. It was soothing, though perhaps too soothing, as there were some students who fell asleep amidst the reading. But there was something in his voice that commanded attention—a depth and richness that suggested he had experienced more of life's highs and lows than any of us could. His descriptions were vivid and imaginative, like words were brushstrokes and the pages were the canvas. But how can a blind man learn to paint? 

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was either doodling in their notebooks or staring off into space. Andy still sat bobbing his head to the music in his ears, and Richie was trying his hardest to stay awake. Mr. Dunn didn't seem to notice, or more likely, didn’t care. He was lost in his own world of words and ideas, and I felt a sense of pity for the man as no one seemed to listen.

During lunch, we all sat around the big oak tree outside, which was tucked out of sight from the teachers. It was nearly the end of the day, and we passed around a terribly woven joint that Richie would sometimes sneak from his older brother. Richie leaned against the tree and puffed a cloud into the air.

“Where’s Andy?” he asked.

“I thought I saw him exiting the school,” I replied.

Suddenly, we heard footsteps racing towards the tree.

“Guys, guys! I have something,” Andy gasped as he caught his breath.

“What the hell were you doin’? Richie growled.

“I had to grab something from my locker,” Andy panted in response.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle.

“Check this out, I swiped it from my dad’s cabinet.”

“What is it?” I inquired.

Andy looked around the tree to see if any teachers were nearby.

“It’s whiskey, man, the good stuff,” he whispered.

“Your dad lets you drink that?” Richie asked incredulously.

“No, but I know it’s good because he gets it, like all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an empty bottle of it on that shelf,” Andy explained.

“And you didn’t think he was gonna notice it was gone?” I scolded.

“Nah, man. He was still passed out on the couch this morning from last night. All spring break, he was either wasted or asleep. So, I figured it'd do the old drunk some good,” Andy justified.

“Why did you keep it in your locker, you moron? Richie scoffed.

“What? Man, and have them find it in my bag? No way.”

“But not in your locker? Jesus, Andy, you really are an airhead!” Richie exclaimed.

“Whatever, man. Yo, Lee, you want first dibs?” Andy grinned and offered the bottle.

I took the bottle from his hands and observed the front of it.

“Glen…Glenfid-isch?” I mumbled as I tried to read the label. 

“It’s probably nastier than the river water down by the Sabine!" Richie declared. 

I popped the cork and winced as I caught a whiff of the alcohol.

“Take a sip, Lee.” Andy encouraged me.

“It reeks like my sister’s nail polish!” I exclaimed.

I took a quick swig and immediately began coughing. After I swallowed, I rose to my feet. I had my hands on my knees bent over the ground as I coughed and tried to clear my throat. Richie and Andy stood laughing as I started to feel a burning sensation in my chest.

“That kicked your ass, man!” Andy shouted as he laughed with Richie.

I closed my eyes and waited for the tears to subside, then I opened them again and cleared my throat once more. I looked up and saw Mr. Dunn sitting on a bench in the distance. He was looking directly at us, and for a short moment, I felt that he saw what we were doing. In front of him was a dead tree, and he hadn’t moved his gaze from it for as long as I watched him.

“No way, old man Dunn’s been sitting there the whole time,” Andy said as he stood up. 

We heard Richie start hacking behind us as he held the bottle and yelled obscenities. 

“Well, if it had to be one teacher who stared at us, it’d be the old blind man,” I said with a snicker. 

Richie handed back the bottle to Andy and wiped his lip.

“Hey, why’s that creepy old bastard just staring at that dead tree?” Richie remarked.

We both turned to look at Richie, rolling our eyes. 

“Stare, look, I don’t know the right word here. He’s facing it!”

“Go talk to him, Lee. He likes you.” Andy said as he pushed me forward.

“No way, man. You go talk to him.”

“Hell, no. My aunt tells me that blind people can stare into your soul. They've got mystical clouds and stuff behind those eyes.”

“Your aunt is full of it.” I replied.

“Then go talk to him; just don’t let him tell you your future or how you’re gonna die.”

“Fine, if it will make you happy,” I said while starting to walk.

My eyes were still watering, and I kept sniffling really badly. The closer I walked towards Mr. Dunn, the more I grew anxious. I didn’t believe any of Andy’s superstitions, but I had never met a blind person before. What do they see? Is it nothing? Like, black? I had no clue, and before I could even think of a greeting, Mr. Dunn had begun to chuckle.

“Well, hello,” he said.

I stopped and turned around to look behind me, as if I was expecting another kid nearby.

“Uh, Hi, Mr. Dunn.” I greeted nervously.

Mr. Dunn turned towards me. “Yes, Lee.”

I froze, “How’d you know it was me?”

Mr. Dunn leaned his head slightly to the side. “Your voice, of course.”

“You can just tell it’s me by my voice?” 

Mr. Dunn nodded. “It’s a unique voice; can you tell who I am by seeing my face?”

“Well, yeah, but...” I trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Mr. Dunn smiled. “I imagine my face is unique as well.”

“How do you know what your face looks like?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Come here, Lee.” Mr. Dunn motioned me closer with his hand.

I stood and looked around, but then decided to step forward.

“What do you hear, Lee?” he asked as I sat down on the bench.

I refrained from answering, as I couldn’t focus on anything other than the sound of the other kids in the distance.

“I hear children playing, sir.” 

“Because you already see them. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus, but I couldn’t unhear the ruckus from the other students.

“Mr. Dunn I don’t think—

"Shh… Listen really close; do you hear the birds? They start singing around this time.”

I sat still for a moment, trying to hear what it was that Mr. Dunn could possibly be hearing. 

“Now listen to the leaves dancing in the wind. Listen to the humming of nature as she speaks her wisdom. Do you see the world now?” 

I still saw nothing and only had my ears clouded with noise. Mr. Dunn began to hum and whistle. Slowly, I started to distinguish that there were two whistles I could hear: Mr. Dunn and some birds. They were in sync, harmonizing with each other like streams flowing across land. I began to pick out little pieces and motifs, and I almost felt compelled to join the symphony. Suddenly, I began to hear the wind howl softly over the orchestration. It did indeed whisper secrets, which I felt were meant for me. My eyes remained sealed shut, though the whole park seemed somehow different—more vibrant and alive than I had ever noticed before. 

“I see it now, sir,” I said in awe. 

I opened my eyes and saw the dead tree that stood in front of me. Through the frail branches, I saw my friends still sitting against the oak tree. They were obscured and contorted by the lines the tree drew. It was easy to feel this way, contorted, while growing up where we did. 

"What do you see now, Lee?" Mr. Dunn asked. 

I sighed and said, "I see a dead tree blocking the view of my friends."

Mr. Dunn smiled and said, "But what if I told you that the tree is not blocking your view but rather framing it?"

I looked at my friends through the twisted twigs again and saw what Mr. Dunn meant. The dead tree was still there, but it no longer felt like an obstacle. Instead, it added depth and texture to the scene.

Mr. Dunn continued, "And just like how the birds find a way to make their homes among the branches of the tree, you and your friends can find a way to thrive despite any challenges that come."

I shook my head out of frustration and asked, “How can you be so optimistic?”

Mr. Dunn let out a big grin and said, “Because I’ve lived in darkness my whole life. We’re all blind in some capacity. We just need to learn how to see.” 

“How do I do that?” I asked.

“Listen to what nature says, and you will understand in time.”

The bell started to ring, and lunch was concluding. I rose up from the bench and started walking back to the school. 

“Hey, Lee, ”Mr. Dunn called out, “Do you remember from today’s story what nature’s first green is?” 

I chuckled and smiled, “It’s gold, Mr. Dunn.”

Mr. Dunn held his grin and replied, “Stay gold, Lee.”

For the past fifteen years I’ve yet to meet Mr. Dunn again. 

Believe it or not, his words held true. Richie found himself in real estate after high school and Andy became a successful drummer in our town.

As for me, I now teach at the same middle school as an English literature teacher. Each afternoon, during lunch I go outside and water the tree that now sits in front of the bench on which I had the most important conversation of my life. The tree now shines in its brightest hue of green, and I sit on this bench smiling at that tree as Mr. Dunn once did.