A Critical Incident
Sometimes all it takes is one comment to rock our world. One
innocent comment and our world shifts around us. Like you could guess, it was
an ordinary day like any other day at Thornton High. As usual at lunch time, teachers sauntered
into the English department office either with a tray from the cafeteria
or with their packed lunch. I must have beat everyone in because I remember shaking
off thoughts of my last class, Practical English, a class that I loved to teach
but one that other teachers shied away from. Louis had told the story of his
father getting into trouble with the law one more time, and Joe complained
about having to close late at work the night before. That class, mostly boys,
were sometimes tricky to settle down, but once we got into a grove, they often
surprised me. Right now we were in the middle of a mock business venture where
they had to determine the qualities of a person they’d hire, then develop
interview questions, and design the application form. It was a task they
enjoyed and that had prompted some hot and heavy conversation.
Just as I was thinking about Louis’ comment about whether or
not a criminal record should matter in hiring decisions, our department chair
walked into the office. Often her stories of her AP class were entertaining and
stories that greatly differed from those I might tell about Practical
English.
“You know,” she began, “I looked around the room today and
noticed that I have a lot of girls in AP,
and they sure are blond!” She sat down and began eating her salad.
And I pictured my Practical English class: those boys sure
weren’t blond. Louis’ last name was Lucero, and Joe’s last name was Italian,
can’t remember all these years later, but I do know that I had a Gonzales and a
Gomez in class. And one of the few African American students in our school sat in the third row.
Blonde, huh?
And my guys weren’t.
Her girls were learning about Hawthorne and Hemingway.
My guys were learning about business writing and filling out forms. Her girls were writing extended essays while my guys were writing letters of
complaint. Her girls were talking about going to college and my guys were
worrying about jobs.
And hers were blond and mine weren't.
Yep, one comment that day at lunch shifted my world and
rocked me awake.
