The Lunxicon

At least, that is what I was told in high school. “Vincent,” my English teacher once said, “you are such a recalcitrant young man.” At the time, I felt this was a bit of an exaggeration. I wasn’t disobedient or particularly anti-authority; I just wanted to be left alone to read, headbang, play video games, and think about girls I would never talk to (let alone touch the legs of). In hindsight, though, perhaps drawing out the Slayer and Sepultura logos instead of writing notes about Thomas Hardy and proclaiming that Hardy was a masturbatory boor and that Sylvia Plath should’ve just offed herself as a child so we wouldn’t have to read her “whining” were offenses great enough to put me in that category. In any case, Mr. Milnes seemed rather surprised that I understood his complaint, and when I told him that I wasn’t recalcitrant, just bored, I was met with the bitter stare of a man who hates his job.

Ah, high school.

I don’t know why “recalcitrant” just popped into my head. It could be because I saw someone reading Tess of the d’Urbervilles on the train this morning and thought of good old David Milnes and our little sit-down chats about. Regardless, it is one of those words that you are unlikely to have a use for in your daily conversations—unless you are a teacher or a parent or have a particularly annoying and poorly trained pet. (I’d love to see Cesar Milan of The Dog Whisperer fame describe one of his clients’ pooches as “a recalcitrant little guy.”) Also, and maybe I’m the only one, I think it’s one of those words that more effective when said with a semi-posh English accent. Perhaps this is because it’s a “fancier” (read: kind of long) word, and one that not too many people are probably aware of, or maybe it’s just the fact that Milnesy himself had a semi-posh English accent. I don’t know, but it’s a perfect combination. There’s just something about the short, sputtery syllables that scream Notting Hill (the area, not the crappo movie).

Us recalcitrants–although I’m more of a recovering recalcitrant at this point–are a frustrating bunch. Obstinately disobedient and resistant to authority, we are the kids with mohawks (shoulder-length hair, in my case) in your history class who ask, “How do we know this is what really happened? These textbooks were written to promote the rich, white agenda and to brainwash kids into believing what those in power want us to believe.” Now, don’t get me wrong, a certain resistance to authority is a good thing. A disinclination to believe everything you are told by “the man” is an important trait. However, there is such a thing as taking it too far and being really annoying and stupid. I suppose I’d say that recalcitrance is a trait best saved for those intelligent to argue the case for their (uncivil) disobedience without resorting to expletives and the always telling, “Ugh, you’re just too dumb to understand,” or some variation thereof. In other words, don’t be a recalcitrant unless you know what a recalcitrant actually is! Of course, from the other perspective, using the word to dress down someone who deserves it and is unaware of its meaning would, I imagine, be extremely satisfying. What can give you that petty sense of fullfilment like chastising somebody AND making them feel dumb at the same time?