Hispanic Girl. White boy. And then there was me and that’s the way it had to be. We had to be racially divided because of the statements made the day before. It was black history month and we were learning about people such as Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks and other African Americans who made an impact on our society, it was clear that some students had a problem with this. The class had always been somewhat divided; but this was obviously worse.
“I’m sick of hearing about black people!” one girl had yelled.
“Why do black people get a whole month? Just because they used to be slaves, why does the whole world have to stop for a month to hear about them?”
The class blew up into disarray, arguing back and forth and exchanging racial remarks and slurs to each other. I was upset that we still lived in a society that only saw color. I wondered how people could be so closed minded. I was disappointed that this was still a problem, but I was having more internal issues than just the surface topics that were clearly taking place in the class.
Being in a classroom where color was an issue was a norm for me, especially this time of year but I was anxious to see when the spotlight would be back on me for a different reason. Growing up as a child with Erb’s Palsy, I was used to being called out for being different. I was usually discriminated against because my arm didn’t look like everyone else’s. I felt ashamed that I didn’t care more about the racial comments being made because they kept the students from talking about my arm. “The girl with the short arm” was the only thing anyone ever knew me as.
Because of the racial tension in class, we weren’t being taught regular lessons. We had to fix what was occurring before resuming classes so the school decided to seat us integrated by race. Black kids never sat with white kids. Hispanics sat in their own area, everyone was segregated. I was seated next to a white girl named Brittany, which was fine with me because she was my friend.
“Want some candy?” Brittany asked. As I reached for the candy, a fellow classmate yells.
“Grab it with the other hand!” Everybody laughs but I don’t see the humor. Race was not the issue anymore.
“Don’t worry about them” Brittany whispers. Robert gets up and tries to hold his hand like I hold mine and everyone laughs even louder
“What are they laughing at?” Jamar asks.
“They’re laughing at Latifah’s weird hand” Ashley answers.
Embarrassed. Hurt. Confused. Words couldn’t even begin to explain how I felt. This continued for another few minutes when the teacher, Miss Robinson, finally rushed over and said “Write the names of everyone who’s talking about you on this piece of paper.” In that moment, I felt a sense of relief. I finally felt like someone actually realized and cared that what was happening to me was painful, and should have been dealt with.
I no longer considered those people my classmates, but my enemies. The only person who didn’t laugh was Brittany. All I could think about is why this was comical, and about why my disadvantage was amusing to them.
For the remainder of class the students continued to laugh at and tease me. I felt helpless. The expressions on Miss Robinsons face as she watched them torment me showed that she wanted to take action.
After class Miss Robinson handled the situation with much dedication and it was clear she was passionate about getting those kids the punishment they deserved. I was surprised that someone was actually standing up for me. At that moment, I decided I needed to start standing up for myself and stop being ashamed of something that was a part of me.
Until that day, my disability was always something I looked at as a problem, and it was hard for me to accept that this was something that was always going to be a part of me for the rest of my life. All of the students involved were eventually suspended. Miss Robinson helped me realize that I shouldn’t be ashamed and that I should speak up against the harsh remarks given to me. Her actions on that day changed my life forever.
“I’m sick of hearing about black people!” one girl had yelled.
“Why do black people get a whole month? Just because they used to be slaves, why does the whole world have to stop for a month to hear about them?”
The class blew up into disarray, arguing back and forth and exchanging racial remarks and slurs to each other. I was upset that we still lived in a society that only saw color. I wondered how people could be so closed minded. I was disappointed that this was still a problem, but I was having more internal issues than just the surface topics that were clearly taking place in the class.
Being in a classroom where color was an issue was a norm for me, especially this time of year but I was anxious to see when the spotlight would be back on me for a different reason. Growing up as a child with Erb’s Palsy, I was used to being called out for being different. I was usually discriminated against because my arm didn’t look like everyone else’s. I felt ashamed that I didn’t care more about the racial comments being made because they kept the students from talking about my arm. “The girl with the short arm” was the only thing anyone ever knew me as.
Because of the racial tension in class, we weren’t being taught regular lessons. We had to fix what was occurring before resuming classes so the school decided to seat us integrated by race. Black kids never sat with white kids. Hispanics sat in their own area, everyone was segregated. I was seated next to a white girl named Brittany, which was fine with me because she was my friend.
“Want some candy?” Brittany asked. As I reached for the candy, a fellow classmate yells.
“Grab it with the other hand!” Everybody laughs but I don’t see the humor. Race was not the issue anymore.
“Don’t worry about them” Brittany whispers. Robert gets up and tries to hold his hand like I hold mine and everyone laughs even louder
“What are they laughing at?” Jamar asks.
“They’re laughing at Latifah’s weird hand” Ashley answers.
Embarrassed. Hurt. Confused. Words couldn’t even begin to explain how I felt. This continued for another few minutes when the teacher, Miss Robinson, finally rushed over and said “Write the names of everyone who’s talking about you on this piece of paper.” In that moment, I felt a sense of relief. I finally felt like someone actually realized and cared that what was happening to me was painful, and should have been dealt with.
I no longer considered those people my classmates, but my enemies. The only person who didn’t laugh was Brittany. All I could think about is why this was comical, and about why my disadvantage was amusing to them.
For the remainder of class the students continued to laugh at and tease me. I felt helpless. The expressions on Miss Robinsons face as she watched them torment me showed that she wanted to take action.
After class Miss Robinson handled the situation with much dedication and it was clear she was passionate about getting those kids the punishment they deserved. I was surprised that someone was actually standing up for me. At that moment, I decided I needed to start standing up for myself and stop being ashamed of something that was a part of me.
Until that day, my disability was always something I looked at as a problem, and it was hard for me to accept that this was something that was always going to be a part of me for the rest of my life. All of the students involved were eventually suspended. Miss Robinson helped me realize that I shouldn’t be ashamed and that I should speak up against the harsh remarks given to me. Her actions on that day changed my life forever.
