Monthly Archive for October, 2007

Fourth grade in the hallway walking with a girl that was looking for a sandwich I sat in the hall display island. Every day I put a turkey and mayo sandwich in the island for anyone to pick up and eat. Students began requesting the sandwiches, asking if they could get on a waiting list for the next sandwich. I walked out of the French doors of the art room into the hallway where other students filtered in to pass for classes. I walked with a friend and met up with a group of kids who sat down by the island to wait for a teacher. One of the students told me she didn’t like the sandwich. I came back with, “That doesn’t surprise me. You don’t like much of anything.” The other girls around me laughed and told me good going for telling her that because she really didn’t like anything. I explained the only reason I said it was because I realized it didn’t mean anything because she always says it. I was pointing out that the sandwich fell into the same “blah” category as everything else and that I wouldn’t take it personally. I was unable to tell if the little girl was offended. Another little girl popped up and asked to get on the list. I turned to the negative child and told her that tomorrow I’d add tomato and feta cheese and that she could have it. I got a smile.

Feelings while writing
Worry. I hope people reading this understand that the mother could hold a job, a good job and still have her kids live in the car by choice. (Reference homelessness and The Pursuit of Happiness.) Worried that I’ll again separate myself from others (black and white) because we didn’t grow up poor. Worried that there may still be a bit of snob in me because it’s important for others to know our family wasn’t poor. It’s important because I worry about the stereotype of poor families hurt their kids, upper and upper middle class don’t. Because I’m black many assume I grew up poor. Right now I’m broke as hell. It seems important for my pride to note that I didn’t grow up this way. This is odd because I don’t consider myself a materialistic person but I do hold onto old messages about self worth and money. I still hold onto old messages about how I need to make a statement to white people concerning who I’m NOT. She gave many messages to let others know who we are NOT but few about who we are. Our hair was to be a certain way, we spoke a certain way, dressed a certain way, walked perfectly to contradict all stereotypes. We were to be teachers and show white people that they have it all wrong and to show black people how to improve if they hadn’t already.

The fourth grade may have been the worst year of my life. That year was horrible because of a teacher that didn’t like my mother’s religion. It was the first public school I’d ever gone to. I went in as a home grown snob. It took awhile before I stopped listening to my mother’s advice on how to handle the kids. The kids said, “You talk proper.” The mother said to reply, “No, I speak properly.” Yikes, caused lots of fights. My clothing and shoes didn’t help me blend in either. The mother pointing out differences and telling me I’m better didn’t help. Had she paid attention to the teacher that hounded me daily I may have been able to fit in a tiny bit better with an attitude adjustment. She said the problem was that I went to school with new clothing, good shoes and food but the other kids were from poor families who wear K-Mart brand shoes. She told me I had been a victim of bussing and that’s why I had to go to that school. She said the kids carried knives and I’d come home with a bloody lip everyday cause I have a smart mouth. I believe I handed out more bloody lips than I received. I may have fought more in the 4^th grade than I did my whole dang on life.

Dream Therapy Kindness and Charity
Saturday, October 20, 2007-1:33PM EST