Most rhyming words are nonsense, but not all. If someone says “tree” then perhaps I’ll say “knee.”
Some words I also just like saying over and over again and hearing how they sound. I like “toddler,” for example, a really good word. I never tire of saying it. “Toddler.”
My teacher calls this chat. She doesn’t like it when I rhyme or repeat words. She doesn’t think it’s fun and she thinks I’m teasing people. But I’m not. I don’t know why I do it. The words repeat over and over inside my head; I get them in my brain and cannot get them out except by saying them out loud. But it’s stupid and that’s why I make like I’m kidding intentionally.
I also love words that don’t exist and don’t mean anything. “Jarrydust” is one of these words. “Splunderer” is another. I say them sometimes when I don’t know what to say. I love to say these words. They’re funny words.
— Jón, what’s a subjunctive?
— Err, a splunderer?
— Stop being silly.
— Jarrydust?
— Jón, who wrote the story of The Ugly Duckling?
— Donald Duck?
Everyone laughs. It’s better to be a comic than a moron.
Sometimes the teacher asks the class questions nobody knows the answer to but me. I like that a lot.
— Children, do you know what the offspring of bears are called?
A few put their hands up. Me too.
— Puppies?
The teacher shakes her head.
— Little bears?
— No.
Finally I’m the only one left. The teacher looks at me and nods.
— Cubbyholes!
Everyone laughs. That was funny. But it’s also true. They’re called cubs. I like to mix words together to create nonsense.
The teacher smiles and nods. She’s called Svandís and is very strict. Sometimes she pinches my neck with her nails when I’m naughty. I try to be careful about needling her.
Some teachers are fun to tease. I enjoy messing with them. But some teachers are annoying.
One time, I was telling a story about a little kid who peed before he reached the bathroom.
— Did he pee over himself? asked the teacher.
I told her that it’s wrong to say that someone has peed over themselves. It’s not possible to pee over yourself. You should just say that someone peed themselves. She got very annoyed and said I was being impertinent. But I wasn’t. I know that one shouldn’t bullshit adults.
When I was a kid I would sometimes hide from teachers. I liked doing that a lot but I’ve grown out of it now. I’m not as naughty as I used to be. I also don’t feel as bad as I felt then. Back then, I had no friends and I was afraid of the other kids.
When I first started school, I thought I was going to die. Mom had to go with me every morning because I didn’t want to go. I was terrified. Gradually, however, I began to feel better. I got to know the kids and discovered that most of them are okay. Though there are some older kids who are annoying and who pick on me during recess. They follow me home and also sometimes call me Coppertop Brennivínsson.
When I know they’re planning to follow me home, I prepare. Sometimes I put big stones in my pockets. When they arrive and begin to tease me, I try to throw stones at their heads. Then they get frightened and run away, yelling:
— He’s crazy, he’s a lunatic!
I’ve still never hit anyone. I just want to scare them.
Sometimes I do have to fight. But I’ve not hit any one, not properly. They’re just scuffles. I don’t want to hurt anyone, except when I am very angry.
I’ve only once beaten up a kid at school on purpose. There was a kid who was always teasing me, jostling me and tripping me and calling me Coppertop Brennivínsson. He would get at me during recess and sometimes follow me home and try to trip me up if we ran into each other in the school corridor. He’s two years older than me. Everyone thinks he’s a jerk.
Shortly before it happened, I’d broken my arm on my bike. I had just gotten a speedometer and I was trying to set a speed record; I rode so fast down a steep hill that I lost control of the bike and hit a pole.
I had to go to the emergency room and get a plaster cast.
The boy came over to me during recess and wanted to see the cast. When he was standing right beside me I hit him really hard in the head with the cast.
He began to scream. It suited him. I liked seeing him screaming. He had annoyed me so many times. And when he was starting to attack me, a teacher came and took him by the scruff of the neck, and marched him to the principal.
A little bit later, the teacher came back and got me and took me to the principal. The principal had me apologize to the boy for having smacked him and then he apologized to me for having teased me and promised never to do that again. He kept his promise. I was really happy to see him cry. You can’t tease someone who has seen you cry.
I often go to the principal. Teachers take me there when they’ve had enough of me and are ready to give up. Sometimes, I have to go to him even though I haven’t done anything bad. But that’s okay because the principal is a good guy. He never scolds me. He talks to me gently. Sometimes he gives me chocolate milk and even a Prince Polo candy bar.
Once, I beat up a teacher. It wasn’t something I planned. It was when I was littler. I was hiding so I climbed up on the big shelf above the classroom door. I imagined that I was an Indian lying in wait, and the teacher was a cowboy who would kill me if she found me.
The teacher walked around the school from end to end, searching for me and calling me. She had long, raven-black hair, which reached all the way down to her butt.
I was teasing her by sometimes answering her.
— I’m here, inside the homeroom!
Then I’d stifle my giggles when she came in. I could see her but she couldn’t see me. She never looked up. One of the times she walked through the door I jumped down towards her.
I don’t know what happened. I did it without thinking. I was just planning to shock her. But she was much more irate than I reckoned. As I fell, I groped the air and grabbed hold of her hair. We both fell to the floor.
I hurt her. She had to have a collar around her neck. That time, the principal got angry with me. He said she had been lucky not to have broken her neck. I realized this with hindsight and so I began to cry. I begged for her forgiveness. I didn’t mean to hurt her.
I often do things I only understand in hindsight. At the time, I don’t know why I do them. One moment, I’m thinking something and then it’s like I’m not thinking anything and all of a sudden I have to do something. Some of those times, someone gets angry with me, and I cry because I realize.
~ ~ ~
The study has revealed that the boy is very intelligent indeed, more than capable, with a highly developed sense of his own independence — nevertheless, he also seeks, like an infant, to have his needs for food and warmth met. His need for a safe and warm refuge or hiding place conflicts with his desire to go on adventures and to be self-sufficient. Along with a need for intimate and tactile relationships can be seen both fear and resentment towards adult figures, and rebellion against their rule. Jón Gunnar experiences himself as imperfect and even castrated. Often, he has doubts about his abilities, which may manifest as oppositional behavior, because it is better not to want than not to get. His emotional adaptability is poorly developed. He has difficulty controlling his emotions: his need for power and for gratification cannot be deferred. He is aware of the needs his surroundings bring out in him, and when those needs clash with his internal desires, it causes conflict and turmoil.