Okay, this has nothing whatsoever to do with surfing but this is my spot to rant. Today I helped Junior Devil (A.K.A. librarian at an elementary school that shall remain anonymous). We arrived around 8:15a.m. to begin the tedious job of putting away the many books that were left on the carts at the end of the school year. The school, you see, to put it bluntly as J.D. so aptly did, is a "ghetto school." It lies in a poor neighborhood of downtown Jacksonville. As we rode through the streets, Junior talked about how, when she first was hired here, she was afraid of being shot as she drove these streets on her way to work. I looked at all the houses, most of which had bars on the front doors. It all reminded me of Nicaragua. Last summer, this same time of year, I rode past houses like these. The difference was, in Nicaragua, these houses would have been owned by the wealthier Nicaraguans. The ordinary citizens that I observed while there were lacking in the basics. Most homes I saw had no electricity or indoor plumbing. So, that was one thing.
But, the thing that got to me today was this. Not long after we arrived and began putting all those books away on the shelves, a group of children were ushered into the library by a woman in her early twenties. This was "Summer School," and these kids were all black, as was the woman in charge of them. A TV was blaring cartoons, and they sat at small tables, quietly, and began watching. I began to wonder what activities the woman had planned for them. I was eager to watch the children and listen to them as they played.
But, there was no playing. There was no talking. There was only the stern voice of the woman, telling them there would be no talking. If there was talking, there would be no field trip tomorrow. This was something I would hear over and over again, for the next three hours that I worked putting away books. Those children sat for the entire time, in hard chairs, not talking, not doing anything. The TV was turned off after about 30 minutes.
Now, this is significant, and telling, for so many reasons. As a Sociology major, you can imagine my despair. Those children were forced to sit silently without any explanation given. They were not allowed to play with any of the games that were out in plain view. They were not allowed to read a book, in a library with hundreds of books all around them. They were forced to sit, and to listen to an adult role model who barked at them whenever one of them even whispered something. This role model explained, in improper English, that none of them would be going on the field trip tomorrow, all except for one little boy who was so passive and silent that he became her example of perfection. He was allowed to go play on the computer. The lights were turned off. This continued for three hours.
Someone pounded on the door, at one point, and I let them in. It was a mom, apparently, who was bringing a child in late. I opened the door and smiled at her. She never said a word to me, not even to say thank you.
Now, how can we ever hope to change the world around us when poor children are exposed to things like this day on day out? How can the poor ever hope to learn how to live successfully in a world where they are denied access to the basics of decent human interaction and exchange?
The woman in charge said this: "I don't want you to talk to me, to ask me anything. I want you to sit there quietly until lunch. Do you understand me?"
One child said something under their breath. "What did I tell you?" The woman barked, a threatening cruelty brimming in her voice. One little girl raised her hand, repeating in a soft voice what she had just been told. Something inside me died at that moment.
So, this is what the poor learn. They learn that this is how you treat people. They learn that this is how you act when you are all grown up.
Three hours of their lives were wasted, essentially because this woman learned this lesson so well. Summer school. I looked at them all sitting there, and I wondered how long those three hours must have seemed. When we left for lunch, they were still sitting there, resigned to their fate. And, it was amazing just how well behaved they were. Scared, I guess. Hopeless, perhaps.
It made it even clearer to me today. This is how it happens, and why some people never understand, how they make judgements based solely upon race. The circumstances of our birth determine so much more than we ever realize. But, we can decide to change.
