MY FOOT, YOUR NECK

I had a young black man call me the “N” word yesterday—repeatedly. “N” this and “N” that. Not that it meant much of anything to me. His overuse of the “N” word, his various nonsensical ways of using it for positive and/or negative strokes, only magnified his deficiencies in self-expression. In other words, I believe he’s EI (Emotionally Impaired).

I had been trying to help him focus on his fraction pretest to assess his difficulties. I pulled up a chair, proximity control usually works. I wanted him to know that I had a vested interest in him, that I wanted him to stop horse-playing around and start working. Once he had done a few problems with guided practice, I moved on to an older white gentleman, a low functioning cutter, a man who sometimes wept for no apparent reason.

Within five minutes—gee, could it have been that long?—the young black man went into his tirade. “N” this and “N” that. I was a racist teacher. I spent most of my time with the white students. On and on and on. I held my right hand in the air, with my index finger extended—my way of semi-acknowledging his cry for help, and also a nice way to say give me a minute here.

Next, he got up, scribbled on another student’s class assignment, then snatched the student’s jacket off the back of his chair, and started stomping on it. I had seen enough. “Mr. Allan,” I said, “give me your identification.” The inmates carry ID cards on them. At this point, he understood my intentions. I was going to have the school officer escort him out of the building.

“N” this and “N” that, he yelled all the way down the corridor and out of sight. With him gone, the class ran fairly smooth. At least it was quiet, until the student with the crumpled jacket on the floor spoke out. “You were wrong for what you did, Tom-Tom.”

“What you’re telling me then,” I tried to decipher, “is that it was appropriate for him to mess up your class work and stomp on your jacket.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. “I guess you wouldn’t mind if I did the very same thing.”

“If you did it, then it'd be wrong.”

I shook my head at his response. Once in awhile I have to use the foot-on-your-neck-approach to keep control of my classroom. But I didn’t think it necessary this time. As the noise level grew louder, I announced that I had truly missed Mr. Allan's presence and thought that maybe I should get him back a.s.a.p. Everyone stopped what they were doing, including the student that stuck up for him earlier, and they begged me to leave things be, at least for the day.