In celebration of Black History Month
When my mom asked if I wanted to go to a new school, I answered yes without hesitation. I was sick of the boy who chased me around school and called me frog. I didn’t care that the school district was trying to integrate it’s schools. I was ready for a change. With a sister and 2 brothers switching schools with me, I didn’t worry about being new or lonely.
We had our choice of 3 schools. To me, Maple Leaf sounded lovely. That was my pick and luckily the winner.
The first day of school, the bus was full of approximately 30 African American kids. At the school office we were divided into groups according to grade. The students in my group were dropped off 2 at a time after a quick introduction to their teacher.
My enthusiastic teacher played guitar was especially fond of folk music. I loved singing Puff the Magic Dragon and Up With People but would only admit it to my siblings. That year I won a writing contest and proudly watched my classmates create artwork to compliment my story. I had the shock of my young life when my teacher while choosing teams, began reciting “e-ne-me-ne-mi-ne-moe. ” Her reaction sums it up best– “oops.” I can only imagine how animated I looked while informing my sister and brothers the phrase wasn’t “catch a monkey” like we thought.
That was 5th grade. I continued to attend school in the same neighborhood until I graduated from high school. There were many more ups than downs. In retrospect, the worst part of the experience was getting up early and on some days, that seemingly endless bus ride.
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